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The Farm Ch. 01

By: MsLinnet



The Email. 

Hi Linnet. Isn't this internet a great thing? I have recently found your web page from a hyperlink on another page and found it very enjoyable, and very exiting even at my age (78). Your story about the love of dogs reminded me of my affection to animals a long time ago. 

It all happen a long time ago: before you were born. I was 18 and the year was 1942. I wanted to do something for the war effort and the chance came for me to join the WLA (Woman s Land Army). It was portrayed as glamorous but, but the truth was that the work was very hard and we were isolated from our families. 

I was with two other women; Grace and April. Oh, by the way. my name is Helen. Anyway, I would love for you to write me a story based on the things that happened to me during World War II with the man that was to become my husband Thomas (87 deceased 2001). 

This is part of an email I received regarding the life and times of someone called Helen, she gave me a few hints about what she and her friends got up to but this story is fiction and based on life as I think it might have been like in 1942. It is written from Helen's point of view and I hope you like it. 

Start of the story. 

It was May 1942 and Exeter was devastated by bombings. Our house had been hit and there was not much of my life left after that night, just the odd photograph and the odd bit of jewelery that my mother had put in a tin box and buried in the back garden. 

I was sent to a farm in the middle of nowhere; the nearest shop was 4 miles away and we all went there once a week to get any personal bits that we needed that the farmer wouldn t get. The other two girls, Grace and April, had been there for a month before me and had stoled into the cottage we were to share. There were two bedrooms and a kitchen and a main room with the toilet outside the back door. 

If we wanted a bath, we had to go to the farm house where we were allowed to use the tub in the big kitchen. 

It all started just after I had bathed in the tub. I found my self standing at the gate to the large field that Thomas had announced we had to get plowed the following day. Out in the field I could see the five farm horses running around; they looked so happy. It was a beautiful early summer night and for the walk back to our cottage I had just slipped my dress on, wrapping my knickers and bra in my towel so I could rinse them out in the sink before I went to bed. I didn t notice Thomas as he walked up the lane and when he spoke I almost jumped out of my skin. He commented on what a lovely view it was and I presumed he meant the horses in the field but I wasn t sure. 

He said,"Can you drive a tractor?" 

I replied,"I can drive a car,is it the same?" 

"Near enough. Would you like some supper? I have a bit of ham and a bottle of beer if you would like to join me,"he said with a laugh. 

I accepted and followed him back to the farm house. He pushed the door open for me and I walked into the kitchen and he followed me in. He was older than me but he was young to have a farm of this size, but as we talked he told me how he had come to own the farm and about losing his parents. As we ate I asked him, How come you aren't married? 

He replied "I fantasize about animal sex while jerking off." The answer was a total shock to me, but I did ask what he meant. I didn t know where to look and I must have gone red as he told me not to worry, that he wouldn t force any of his fantasies on to anyone. But it did start us off on a conversation that kept us busy well into the night. 

It was 2 am and I had not noticed how the time had flown by and nothing had prepared me for what was going to happen with the rest of the night. 

Thomas moved up behind me and placed his arms around me and I could feel his cock through the material of my dress. It felt as if he was in my arse crack and pushed towards me. He was going to fuck me, I thought. I had never been so close to a man before. It had me spinning. I don't know if it was the talk of sex with animals but I felt wetter than I had ever been in my slit between my legs. I would have let him do anything to me. 

But he kissed me on my cheek and said "You had better sleep here as we are up in 4 hours to look at that field." I had forgotten all about that but I knew he meant it so I followed him upstairs and he pointed to a room. "You can sleep in there. I'll wake you at 6." 

As soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep but it was also time to get up. Thomas came into the room and pulled the covers off the bed not realizing that I was naked. He seemed to be embarrassed, but not more than I was and my hands went in every direction to try to cover everything at once. 

He walked of out the room and I quickly pulled my knickers and bra on and slipped into my dress and then went downstairs to where Thomas and the two girls I was supposed to be living with all sat at the table for breakfast. As I walked into the kitchen, the girls started to snigger and whisper and I knew it was about me. 

I had thought about what Thomas and I had talked about all morning, and the idea of sex with an animal got my mind wondering what it would be like. Listen to me! I was thinking about sex with an animal and I had not even had sex with a man. As I drove the tractor up and down the field, I decided that I was going to fuck Thomas as soon as possible. 

After lunch Grace took over the plowing while April went off to start milking the cows. Thomas told me he wanted help to take the horses over to Grace Farm. He told me he had asked the other girls, but neither of them could ride so I agreed to do it. 

The ride over to Grace Farm was 3 miles and it would take most of the afternoon to get there and back, but as it was a nice day, it was going to be a change from the morning s activities. 

By the time we had made our way to the other farm it was getting on for tea time and then David came out of one of the sheds "The bet, it was a #10 wasn t it?" I wondered what they were on about, so I asked. What bet? Thomas seemed to shush David, telling him to shut up as if I was not there as they talked amongst them selves. I slid off the horse and my legs felt like jelly but I took the bridles off the horses and let them go into the paddock behind the house. 

As I looked at the house it looked a lot smaller than the farm I worked on; yet I saw five girls working on it. I was suddenly snapped out of my trance when Thomas came up behind me and ran his hand over my arse. As I turned around in shock, he looked me right in my eyes and said, Run your hands over the front of my trousers. I just did it and I could feel his cock and it felt like nothing I had ever felt before; it was hard as rock and thick too. I was amazed. 

So Thomas, you have you been trying them out while you are alone, you lucky bastard, David said. By this time I had got the jist of what they were on about, but I played along, but I was not sure what I was doing. 

We started to walk away along the lane back towards our farm and I said, You going to explain what that was all about? He said he was sorry. 

He started to explain by saying, David fucks all the girls that work on his farm or they don't stay there and he thinks I am doing the same. 

Well do you want to? 

Want to what? he asked. 

Fuck me. He looked at me then he looked around and grabbed my arm and pushed me towards a group of trees 

On your knees over there, pointing to a small clearing. I got down on my knees and as we slowly got closer and closer, i pulled my dress up and he pulled my knickers off my arse and down to my knees. 

I want to hump you dog style. 

No! I have not been with any one before! I don't know what you are doing! Please! 

You know- like a dog or a horse. I am going to put my cock in you from behind. 

Before I could say anything he had got his cock in me. Well, it seemed like a horse was fucking me. He forced his manhood into my unused sex and I let out a scream like I had never screamed before. I felt the full length of his cock in my slit and he was banging my arse with all his might. 

I did not know why I was doing this; letting him do this to me, making me get down like a dog and fuck me like a dog would take a bitch. He continued to plunge into my sex with each thrust. They were getting harder and harder and it felt as if his cock was going to come out of the top of my head. It started to feel good and my slit was getting wetter and wetter. Then I felt him explode inside me. I had never felt anything like this in my life! I was hoping this was going to go on forever, but not knowing much about the male sex organ I was disappointed when he slipped it out of me and I saw it shrink back to its original size. 

Love Linnet

The Farm Ch. 01



The first time I visited The Farm I was around fourteen and on a retreat with our youth group. The big, old farmhouse and surrounding property are owned by a local church and rented out for retreats of all kinds. There is no actual "farm" per se, meaning the house isn't surrounded by fields, but it is very secluded and surrounded mostly by forest. After that first visit, we would generally take at least one retreat per year with the entire youth group, but occasionally some of us would be taken up on maintenance trips. We'd mow the large lawn, cut firewood and maintain the nature trail as well as making sure the interior of the house was clean and ready for the next retreat group. This was all organized by the director of the youth center and was essentially volunteer community service.

As we got older and many of us had been on the retreats and maintenance trips for a number of years, there were times that Dan, the director, wouldn't accompany us on the maintenance trips. He'd lay out what needed to be done and allow us to spend the night or the weekend up there, sometimes stopping in to check up on us and sometimes not, depending on who was involved. Myself and my three closest friends had helped Dan out quite a bit over the years and he grew to trust us to handle the chores as well as the other volunteers. One spring weekend, he sent a group of us up to handle the usual tasks as well as to air the place out now that the weather was warming up.

We took two vehicles, one being the youth center van, but didn't take anyone who was technically a "youth" since we'd be staying up there over the entire weekend; Dan didn't like to do a trip involving youths unless he was going to be there the entire time. In addition to myself and my three closest friends, Jeff, Frit and Ted, we also brought along Brian and Mark, who were twins, and Denise, Sarah, Maryann, Karen and Chrissy. I don't know whether Dan ever worried about any funny business between the "boys" and the "girls" but I suspect that since he trusted us and he'd known most of us since we were pretty young, he probably didn't sweat it. This was the first time, though, that he'd sent such a big coed group of us on our own.

We got up there on Friday afternoon and, realizing that the grass was pretty long, I thought it would be a good idea to mow the trail right away so the riding mower could be used on the lawn the next day. Nobody really liked mowing the trail because it was a long, slow trip that had to be done twice in order to mow the entire width, so I volunteered to do it. I didn't mind the solitude but I also knew that I could use it as leverage to get out of any other difficult or tedious tasks for the rest of the weekend. I gassed up the mower, checked the fluids and started it up. I wasn't too concerned about what everyone else was up to as I headed into the forest hugging one side of the trail.

I was surprised when, a short way down the trail, I saw Denise walking ahead of me; I hadn't realized that anyone had left the immediate area of the house. She heard me coming and stopped along the side of the trail to wait for me. I pulled up and put the mower in neutral, not wanting to shut if off in case it wouldn't start again, and chided Denise for being out on the trail alone. She smiled sheepishly and admitted that it probably wasn't her best idea, but that she'd wanted to hike the trail and no one had wanted to go for a long walk with her. I told her that I'd be coming back on the return trip if she wanted to continue, but I may have frightened her just a bit because she hesitated. The mower didn't have much of a seat, but I went ahead and asked her if she wanted to motorized tour of the trail. She smiled, then climbed up on my lap.

I let her steer, which didn't require much effort, and just kind of held onto her so she didn't bounce right off of me. The seat had some pretty good springs and despite the trail being fairly smooth, we got to bouncing pretty good as we drove along. The problem, I soon discovered, was with her ass bouncing up and down essentially right on top of my cock, it didn't take long before I was sporting wood. I knew there was no way Denise couldn't feel it and was beginning to wonder how I was going to last the entire remaining length of the trail without blowing a load in my shorts when Denise turned and asked if we could stop for a minute. I put on the brake and got us into neutral again as Denise lifted up off my lap then reached down to massage my throbbing tool.

She turned to face me while pulling her shorts and panties to the side with one hand and taking my hand in her other. Seeing her dark blonde bush made my cock throb even more, but when she guided my hand to it and I felt that she was dripping wet, I let out an audible moan. She suggested that, since we were both obviously having the same reaction to this "tour," we go ahead and fully enjoy it. I was all about that. We both stripped off our shorts and underwear, putting them under my ass so we didn't lose them along the way, then she sat on my lap, still facing forward, with my cock embedded in her hot, wet pussy. I put the mower back in gear and we surged onward.

I'd known Denise for a long time, but we'd never had sex before. In years past we'd played truth-or-dare and made out as a result of that, but had never been in a situation where we might have hooked up, particularly as we had gotten older. She was a bottle-blonde with a nice round ass and pretty large tits. As we cruised along on the mower, she wasn't riding me, just enjoying the same bouncing sensation, but quite a bit more. I slipped my hands up under her shirt and cupped her jiggling tits through her sports bra before pulling it up and over them. Her nipples were hard against my palms as I caressed the soft, smooth flesh of her bouncing tits.

She did an admirable job of keeping the mower on a straight path as we cruised along, though I could hear her moaning over the sound of the engine. I was enjoying the feel of her pussy wrapped around my tool, but since she wasn't really fucking me, I was able to enjoy it without feeling like I was in imminent danger of cumming too quickly. Denise, on the other hand, came for the first time shortly after we were in motion again. It seemed like whenever we hit a bumpy section, she came again pretty easily. Eventually, I dropped one hand down from her tits, despite how much I was enjoying them, to stroke her clit as we rode. It wasn't long after that when she seemed to be cumming almost continuously. When I realized that we were getting pretty close to the end of the trail, I eased the brake down in the hopes of fucking her hard until I came, then getting dressed again for the remainder of the trip.

Once we were stopped, Denise did ride me hard briefly, but she was practically out of her mind from cumming so much and couldn't take anymore. At her suggestion, we both hopped off the mower and got away from the spinning blades before she dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around my rigid shaft. I ran my fingers through her curly blonde hair as she engulfed my cock in her hot mouth. She didn't bother with any slow, teasing build-up, knowing that I was already as hot as she had been. She sucked my cock voraciously, her head bobbing up and down and her hands gripping my ass. I moaned as I felt my long-delayed orgasm rapidly building. She was a really talented cocksucker, though her task wasn't too difficult, being as worked up as I was already.

She removed her hands from my ass and, while one gently fondled my balls, the other pumped the base of my cock as she was sucking it. I was moaning louder as my cock began to swell and my orgasm swiftly approached. Finally, with a cry that I was glad was drowned out by the mower, I started spewing into Denise's mouth. My orgasm seemed endless and Denise never let up in her enthusiastic attention until I was clearly spent and beginning to soften. She stood and told me that she expected that we'd be getting together regularly after this as she raised her shirt to fix her bra. Before she had a chance, I reached out to caress her tits, not wanting her to hide them away just yet. As I ran my hands over her fleshy globes, I told her that I agreed that we were just getting started. I let her pull her bra back in place, then handed her panties and shorts to her and began to slip into my own briefs.

While we dressed, Denise never stopped talking about how hot a ride it had been. When she confessed that she needed to share the experience with someone, I was glad that she asked me who I'd consider to make the return trip with. I'd secretly had the hots for Maryann for a long time, but we'd never so much as kissed, much less fucked on a riding mower. She had long, dirty-blonde hair and was thin with small, perky breasts and nice ass. I told Denise that if she could talk Maryann into it, to have her meet me right up the trail; I'd be going to gas up the mower again.

I wasn't counting on Maryann being there; I figured my experience with Denise had been a fluke and, hell, I'd just gotten laid and blown, so I wasn't complaining. I topped off the tank and cruised back over to the trail. As I got out of sight of the house, I was stunned to see Maryann waiting a little further ahead. She beamed as I got closer and, when I stopped, she told me that Denise had explained that this was not a ride to miss. Just to be sure she knew what she was getting into, I asked her if Denise had explained exactly what was going on. Maryann nodded her head eagerly and asked if she should take off her shorts. I smiled and shook my head, telling her that we'd want to get a little bit further from the house first. I had her climb up onto my lap and take control of the steering wheel while I got us moving again.

The combination of Maryann bouncing on my lap, the fact that it was her and the knowledge that she was aware of where this ride would lead had me rising again in no time at all. In the meantime, though, I pressed the fingertips of one of my hands against the front of her shorts in the region of her clit so that she would feel additional stimulation as we bounced. When I was certain that I was good and hard, I brought the mower to a stop and Maryann hopped down. As I watched, she dropped her black shorts to her ankles and peeled her tank top over her head. My eyes goggled as I took in her thin figure clad only in a bra and, what turned out to be, thong panties. She smiled shyly at my obvious appreciation, then popped open her bra, revealing her perky tits. I stared openly at her hard nipples until she started sliding her panties down. I watched as her panties went lower and yet no bush came into view. Her panties dropped down her legs to her ankles to join her shorts as her smooth, shaved lips were exposed to the forest air.

While she picked up her clothes, I stripped mine off, my rigid cock springing out and pointing in her direction. She stared as openly at my cock as I had at her body, which made it throb even more with desire for her. We got our clothes arranged, I sat on top of them and she positioned herself much as Denise had, reaching between her legs to guide my cock to her pussy. As she lowered herself down onto my shaft, we both groaned; her pussy felt tighter than Denise's yet was equally slick. With my shaft embedded, I put the mower back in gear and we started to roll, my hands going right to her tits. I had stared at her tits so many times that I couldn't believe that I finally had them in my hands, and in such a surreal setting. Like Denise, I was impressed with Maryann's steering, especially as I heard her moaning and felt the first shudder passing through her body.

Since we were both completely naked, my hands gradually moved down from her tits to her waist and around her ass, exploring all of her smooth, exposed flesh. Eventually, after another orgasm or two, I slipped a finger between her smooth lips to press against her clit. As we bounced on, my finger stimulated her to the same level of agitation that Denise had experienced. I brought the mower to a stop again and pushed her slightly forward over the steering wheel, fucking her hard with my hips smacking against her ass. As I felt my second orgasm finally beginning to really well up, I reluctantly pulled free of her sweet pussy and she hopped off the mower. I followed her until she stopped and kneeled, taking my stiff cock in her hand and jerking it while sliding her lips down my shaft.

Her talents rivaled Denise's as she bobbed her head up and down on my tool, drawing my orgasm ever closer. She continued to jerk my throbbing rod as she darted her tongue out to lick my balls briefly. As her lips closed over my shaft once again, I was right on the verge and was shortly blowing my load down her throat. She sucked me dry before letting my shrinking cock fall from her mouth. Standing, she gave me a big hug and we pressed our naked bodies together. According to Maryann, Denise had been right about the intensity of the experience; she, too, wanted to make sure this wasn't the last time we were naked together. She asked if there was something between me and Denise and I answered only the same that was between us, nothing more. She smiled and squeezed me again.

We got dressed and I was confident that I'd be seeing her naked again very soon. She rode the rest of the way back to the house with me but, as I put the mower away, she dashed off to compare notes with Denise. When I was done, I grabbed a tall, cold glass of iced tea and was pleased to find the hammock vacant, hanging in the shade. I lay there sipping my drink and reflecting on what I had just experienced. I don't know how much time passed before I was joined by Sarah. The hammock was big enough for both of us, so she climbed on at the other end and looked at me for a minute before telling me that she felt left out. She'd clearly been in on the conversation between Maryann and Denise, but the thing about Sara is that she is an avowed virgin. She makes no secret of the fact that she is saving herself for her wedding night, so I told her straight out that her chastity is what left her out, not my lack of interest. She responded by saying that just because she was saving herself didn't mean she didn't get horny. I told her that if she was open to other things that didn't involve fucking to satisfy her carnal desires, I'd be perfectly willing to help her out. She thought for a minute before responding that oral sex didn't have the intimacy of intercourse and that was part of what she wanted.

Just as she was saying that she guessed she was out of luck, I told her that there was a way to get about as close to fucking as possible, without actually doing it. I definitely piqued her curiosity. There was still a fair amount of daylight left and I knew that once the sun started to set, we'd all gravitate toward the kitchen to start making dinner. I also knew that with the sun still up, the house was probably empty. I got up off the hammock and had her follow me inside and upstairs. There were six bedrooms in the house, five upstairs and one downstairs. Of the upstairs five, one was a single, two were doubles and the last two had multiple beds. I led Sarah to the single then closed and locked the door behind us. I turned to Sarah and my cock was already rising as I looked at her. She was very thin with small breasts (we called them mosquito bites), a freckled face and long, straight light brown hair. She wasn't exactly somebody who was typical fantasy fodder, but I was definitely interested in seeing her naked.

I confirmed that she was certain that this was something she wanted to do, then started to undress. She started to do the same, but more slowly as she watched me, obviously staring at the bulge in my briefs when I dropped my shorts. I watched her reaction as I pushed my briefs down and my once-again stiff cock popped out. She still hadn't managed to get her t-shirt over her head as my briefs hit my ankles, so I could see her hard nipples pressing against the thin material. I reached out to help her and we managed to get her t-shirt off, revealing that she was braless underneath. She didn't really need the support for her small, perky breasts, which were topped with small, but amazingly hard nipples. I reached for the button of her shorts and she allowed me to open them and let them drop to her ankles. I took hold of her panties next and slid them down her long, thin legs, exposing a trim bush the same color as the hair on her head.

Seeing her naked was making my cock throb, and I definitely would like to have fucked her, but, knowing that wasn't going to happen, I was content with something over nothing. She looked at me inquisitively, since I was the one with the plan, so I had her lie on the bed and stuck two pillows under her ass. Kneeling between her spread legs, I placed my cock between her legs, rubbing the length of my shaft against her slit. I then had her squeeze her legs together so that my shaft was trapped between her smooth thighs and held against her slit. In this position, I started to fuck her thighs, much as I would fuck a big-breasted woman's tits, while my cock slid up and down against her clit. She sucked in her breath with a slight cry and gave me the immediate impression that this was something she was happy with.

The smooth skin of her thighs combined with the lubrication leaking from her slit and coating the underside of my cock made for a different, but highly pleasurable feeling. As we got into a rhythm, Sarah turned her lower body to the side so that her legs were both on one side of me and I was now fucking the horizontal space between her thighs with her pussy lubing up the side of my shaft now. This also revealed her ass to me, so I ran one of my hands over her smooth cheeks. I couldn't kiss her in this position, so I couldn't give her total intimacy, but she didn't seem to be complaining. I couldn't resist removing my hand from her ass and reaching forward to brush it over her hard nipples, which I would love to have been sucking on.

The longer I "fucked" her, the more lubrication she seemed to be producing. After a bit, I flipped her legs over to the other side of me, completely coating my cock and making fucking her thighs very slick. Not long after I repositioned her legs, a soft cry escaped her and she began to shake as she came. I was really enjoying this new experiment; I was naked with Sarah and essentially "fucking" her while she was able to remain a virgin. I saw a lot of potential for this. Meanwhile, my cock was beginning to swell and my orgasm was building as I continued to pump my cock between her slippery thighs. I was fucking harder, feeling ready to cum, when Sarah had her second orgasm and flooded my cock with even more lubricant. A few more minutes of sliding between her thighs and I began to spew onto her belly.

Once I was spent, Sarah spread her legs and released my cock, saying that she would have been more than happy to finish me off with her mouth. As I crawled up to lay next to her, I replied that I had enjoyed it that way, but that I expected to take her up on using her mouth another time. We made out for a few minutes as I played with her nipples some more, but when we started to hear activity in the house, we got up and started to dress again. We made out again before peeking out the door to make sure the coast was clear then headed down to the kitchen to help with dinner. 



The Farm Ch. 01



CHAPTER 1:

WELCOME TO THE FARM

My name is Robert Spilman. I used to be a successful businessman. Owned my own company, employed three hundred staff in eight offices around the world. I was a jet-setter, loving the rich life -- and making a little more money every year. Men wanted to be me, and girls wanted to be with me: they came and went, each one more pleasurable or attractive than the last -- a never-ending run of gorgeous women who between them catered to my every desire.

I had returned from a three week break on my pleasure yacht, Lightly Salted, when they nabbed me. A nondescript white van, which pulled up on the promenade beyond the harbour as I exited. I caught a glimpse of burly men dressed in black, didn't even get a chance to read their number plate or shout out before a bag was slung over my head and I felt myself being pushed into the cool, empty interior of the van's rear space. A sharp jab in my arm, and my last thought as I fell unconscious was that I'd be standing up that blonde again -- only this time, I had a reasonable excuse.

A pity she would never hear it.

I had planned on retiring in my mid fifties; if my company share prices continued to rise I could have been a man of leisure in my mid forties.

But that all stopped. All of the desirable women, the luxury yachts, the extended holidays, trips around the world, all the business deals and enterprising entrepreneurialism -- that all ended the day I was kidnapped.

My life ended, the day I was taken to the Farm.

********************

What's next are flashes of consciousness in a long, landless sea of haze; bursts of coherence in what might have been weeks of sedated therapies and surgeries -- all the big things and the little things that go into completing a transition.

I remember seeing surgeons inspecting my face, felt their probing fingers -- gentle, questing, surgically aware digits -- pushing against my lips, my eyes, folding my ears, tracing lines against my body with thick felt-tip pens.

Needles prick the skin at the back of my head, transparent tubing slithers into my arms and writhes with every uncoordinated movement. There is blood and fluid and warmth coursing through my veins.

There are waves and waves of warmth passing over my torso and legs. In short tranches my face feels like it is superheated and then instantly cooled. Throughout this process, the hair on my head grows and grows.

My neck and throat become sore, my chest feels like it is bursting -- and then nothing. Nothing but a shallow subsistence, a sort of buoyant, bobbing peacefulness.

I wake up, and I see white ceiling tiles.

I feel heavy, like I've been lifted out of the water after having been in it for so long. There is the remnant feeling of a pressure on my chest.

I lift my hand to rub it, and get the weirdest sense of dislocation when I catch a bump that was never there before. When I look down, I see one of the biggest pairs of tits I've ever seen -- only, they're on me.

My heart races as I panic, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

Somebody has dressed me. Somebody has dressed me in a tight grey crop top that isn't quite big enough to cover all of my breasts, so that they're only covered to the nipple and jut out a little at the bottom.

My stomach is flat and toned, the waist tighter than I remember -- but my defined abs are gone. In my naval, a silver stud sparkles with a small diamond. Where I'd expect to see pants or jeans, I see denim hotpants with frayed cuffs. The straps of a hot pink g-string peek out of the hotpants' waistband, and now I realise I can feel the g-string has slid over my butt crack. Feels strange.

But, oh fuck—

Now I start to panic. Because, if somebody has given me tits, maybe they have taken away my dick too...?

I sit up and reach forwards, seeing long, bleached-blonde hair tumble into my view, and feeling two large hoop earrings wobble in my ears.

I can see my smooth, hairless legs -- and I unbutton the hotpants, zip down the short fly, and reach inside—

I see my thin hands, hot pink nail polish and longer nails than I'm used to -- but I also see my dick, nestled inside the g-string's thin material.

I breathe such a long sigh of relief.

My dick looks smaller than I remember, and when I touch it, it's so much more sensitive than it ever used to be.

Within seconds I'm hard, and I can't help but rub it. I have to lay back, the pleasure is so intense. I lift up my free hand, tempted to stroke one of my breasts -- but should I? Where am I? Who has done this to me? These questions are lost as a wave of warmth rushes through me, fanning out from my groin and filling up the extremes of my body. My nipples tingle; my toes and fingertips feel prickly.

I grab a handful of breast under the crop top, then start tweaking a nipple. My hair is bunching up on either side of me as I writhe on the bed, rubbing my smooth legs against each other, feeling my taut belly and great firm tits as I squeeze my cock.

Precum is dribbling out of me uncontrollably, running down my hand. I swap hands, and bring the wet one up to my lips, where I lick it off -- sucking on my fingers—

And with my fingers in my mouth my body arches and I cry out, as a thick spurt of cum gushes from my cock and shoots onto my belly and up onto my big tits. But even that is not full release, and I continue to tug my dick, teasing out another ejaculation that splatters onto my breasts.

With both hands I cup my breasts and rub them against each other, feeling them slide easily against each other as my cum trickles down between them.

It's a few moments before my breathing slows and my heart stops racing. Looking about the room I spot a box of tissues and stand up to get a couple. As I'm wiping the cum off my body I catch sight of myself in a full-length mirror -- and get that strange sense of dislocation again.

Because the person looking back at me is the hottest girl I've ever seen.

Nice long legs, tanned, a cute little ass covered beautifully by those denim hotpants, flat belly, thin arms -- fucking great tits, big and firm, long blonde hair with some darker roots coming through... but my face. My face...

I was totally different. Somebody had really gone to town on me. I could recognise my eyes, but that was about all. My brow was softer, my nose thinner, cheekbones higher, lips fuller, jaw-line and chin more feminine.

Fuck it, I even started getting hard, looking at myself in the mirror as I wiped my own cum off my belly and from between my breasts. What size were these anyhow? D cup?

There was a small bin that I put the tissues into, but I needed to change my top and as there was no place to put it I dropped it onto the floor.

The room was simple: bed, sink, what looked like a toilet/shower combo unit, and a five-drawer dresser.

The top drawer was full of sex toys -- dildos, strap-ons, whips, lubricant, condoms, beads, a vast range of stuff I recognised and some things I didn't.

The other drawers had clothes in them.

I found a white crop top and put it on. It was also tight, and my tits jutted below it.

I stood, looking at myself in the mirror, hardly daring to believe it and just beginning to wonder again where the hell I was and who had done this to me, when the door to my room slid aside and a woman entered.

First impressions are important, and this woman understood that.

She was not a nurse.

She was dressed in black latex clothing (corset, thong, fishnet stockings, thigh-high boots), and carried a coiled whip in one hand. Her hair was dark and long, tied back; her makeup is smoky around the eyes, her lips a glistening dark cherry that part to show perfect, white teeth.

'Good morning, Georgie,' she smiles, the door closing behind her with an electric swish.

'My name is Robert,' I say -- and shock myself at how high my voice sounds; at how feminine it is.

She nods and raises her eyebrows. 'No,' she says slowly. 'Your name is Georgie Suxcock.'

'Like fuck it is!'

'Anger will get you nowhere,' she says calmly. 'Now sit down.'

I do as she suggests, sitting on the edge of the bed. My breasts are heavy, so I have to put my hands on the bed behind me to feel comfortable, which makes them jut out further. I try not to think about them, though they're looming in the peripheral of my vision.

She introduces herself as one of the managers of the Fun Farm: a place where idle businessmen and multi-millionaires come to relax and realise their sexual fantasies.

'Of course,' she goes on, 'the Farm needs new blood every now and then. This is how we attract new clientele or revitalise our existing customer base.' She looked at me sharply. 'You are our most recent acquisition. You like your new body, I see,' she grinned. I blushed, feeling shocked and ashamed. She shrugged. 'All of the dorm rooms are monitored' -- pointing to a CCTV stub on the ceiling -- 'and that will look good in your portfolio.' She winked at me.

'You have been subjected to the most advanced feminisation surgeries the market can provide. Your face is still yours, but with significant modifications: higher cheekbones, a more feminine chin and jaw line -- a shapelier nose, softer brow... oh, the facial work is very impressive.

'You'll notice your tighter waist (flexible carbon strands buried beneath the skin -- an emerging technology, but fully tested at the Farm, I assure you), a fuller, firmer derrier, and of course, those breasts.

'Only your limbs remain unchanged. Well, apart from laser hair removal. But I think you will agree that the changes we have made are for the better, no?'

'What do you want from me? Why have you done this to me?'

She shrugged again. 'I think I can tell you... One of your competitors hired us to take care of you. And so, we have.'

One of my competitors did this to me? But why? Who?

She leaned closer to me, her eyes large and authoritative. 'Do not misunderstand me, Georgie: you are our property now. There is no escape from the Farm.' She leaned back, still giving me the stern eye. 'You will service our clients, suck on their warm cocks until they spunk inside of you. You will take their throbbing dicks deep in your ass.'

'I'll never do it! Never!'

She grinned, thinly.

'Oh, you'll do it. They all do it, in the end. We conduct surveillance on all our potential acquisitions. We didn't just snatch you from the street,' she chuckled. 'We watched you, learned you -- came to understand your psyche.

'You were a skirt-chasing ladies man, always with one girl or another hanging off your shoulder, always looking for a beautiful woman to please you.

'Well, for every ten men there are like that are three who don't just seek out sluts and loose women: they want to be those sluts. They want to be attractive to other men, want to be fucked by them and feel the jiggle of their breasts as they bounce on rock hard cocks.' She smiled. 'Welcome to the Fun Farm. You have a couple of hours before lunch. At noon, your room door will unlock and you will follow the corridor to the refectory. There, you will dine with the other acquisitions. I hope you have a pleasant time here Georgie, but... well, that is up to you.'

She gave me a last assessing look, seemed to reach a conclusion and nodded before turning sharply on her heels and exiting the room. The door opened for her and closed after her with a faint click!, sealing me in.

Still on the bed, I raised my hands up to my face; my eyes were prickling, but I resisted the strong urge to cry. I had been in bad situations before -- nothing like this though, that must be said -- but I was certain there would be some way to get out of here, some way to escape.

I rummaged through the drawers, but found nothing other than slutty clothes -- skimpy tops, hotpants and boyshorts, stockings, skinny jeans and tight leather pants.

I went up to the mirror and stared into it, trying to see myself behind the surgery -- trying to find the old masculine me, who had been muscular and popular with the ladies. Was what that woman said true? Could it be true?

I didn't know. I felt drained, and leaned against the cool mirror glass. It clicked, and I felt a surge of panic and relief and hope all mixed together as I thought I might have found a secret passageway leading out of this prison -- but when I swung the door open I found simply more clothes, and a dozen or so pairs of shoes and boots.

I flicked through them, wondering if there was anything here at all that would actually cover my belly, when I found the schoolgirl outfit.

I've always had a thing for schoolgirl outfits, but very few of the women I've been with have been open to the idea of dressing up (the ones I felt ok mentioning it to, anyway).

It was so tempting to see how it would look on this hot body, and yet... They would be watching me. Maybe they would think wearing the clothes meant that I had given in, that I had fallen for their trap.

Fuck it, I thought. This is my body.

I took off the hotpants and crop top, lay them on the bed. The outfit had a very short pleated black skirt, which I pulled on. Black knee-high stockings, and black knee-high boots with about four inch heels. The blouse was short, cropped but still covering my breasts; I could only do up the bottom two buttons, and my big breasts loomed at the opening. There was a stripy school tie, which I wore very loosely. There were bunches for my hair, which I did up into pigtails.

When I started closing the wardrobe door I already felt hot and sexy -- when I saw my reflection in the mirror I nearly jizzed in my g-string.

I was about to start jacking off when suddenly a hidden intercom chimed and a voice said,

'Georgie Suxcock, you have a visitor. Please prepare.'

I saw myself blush, wondering who the fuck it could be. I panicked, not sure what I was supposed to do. Would it be somebody I knew? How could it be? Would it be my competitor? Oh shit—!

I threw my hotpants and crop top inside the wardrobe, closed the door and sat on the bed -- waiting, watching myself breathing heavily in the mirror.

I jumped when the door chimed -- a different tone to the intercom, I noticed -- and the door swished aside.

There was a big guy there, all muscle and masculinity. He wore camo pants and a white tee that was tight enough to show his carven pecs and sculpted abs. A dark crew cut completed the military look.

When he saw me he smiled broadly. He was chewing gum.

'Fuck,' he drawled. 'I gotta get me a piece of that.'

He stepped into the room, and the door closed shut behind him.



The Farm Ch. 01



Chapter 01

First Meeting

Down a small side street where the glow of the street lamps did not reach, behind a tulip-yellow door, Mrs. Featherwink's doorman, brothel keeper, and sometime procurer, Halden, waited for the bell and admitted gentlemen late from the theaters, music halls, private clubs, drawing room entertainments, and dinners with wives to Mrs. Featherwink's establishment. Mrs. Featherwink specialized in the special orders and needs of the rich and influential and provided first-rate entertainment for the less adventurous and more conventional.

"Stop just here," George Ryman, Lord Downcliff the fourth Earl of Leeshore, Gordy to his friends, tapped the roof of the handsome with his silver-handled stick. At thirty he prided himself in keeping fit. No paunch like his married school chums, legs well muscled and buttocks firm from riding to the hounds, a strong upper torso. Gordy pressed his silk top hat firmly on his full head of hair and stepped into the cold drizzle. The fog, rolling in from the Thames, swirled on the cobble stones and licked at his ankles. A soft breeze caught his cape.

"Beware the footpads. I'll gladly deliver ye to your door." The driver leaned down to accept the coins Gordy pressed into his hand.

Flashing an easy smile, good teeth were the Ryman hallmark; Gordy turned and strode down the lane to the tulip-yellow door near the end of the blind lane. He slowed his gait and forced himself to take a calming deep breath. To his right a pair of doxies, heavily powdered, brightly roughed and dressed beckoned to the Lord from the mouth of an ally. The one with the orange hair twitched her hips suggestively and her yellow-haired companion leaned forward allowing her large tits to fall from her bodice. Gordy graciously declined their invitation and hid his disgust at the sight of the large areolas and distended nipples. One of his punchy club friends might risk stepping into the ally for a quick sucking, but Gordy's goal was more urgent. He bowed slightly, touching his breast pocket where in lay the note from Mrs. Featherwink. I have filled your request. F, written in an awkward hand, the F heavily embellished with swirls and curlicues. 

One last calming breath before pulling the bell chain and he was ready. His face remained impassive as Halden ushered him into the small entrance way. Hat, gloves, cane and cape passed to the doorman. Quickly adjusted the black grosgrain ribbon securing his queue and inclined his head to the big man. Broken nose, wandering brown left eye, heavy muscles and scared knuckles. Most importantly discreet as his mistress. 

Mrs. Featherwink bustled forward cotton-lace gloved hands extended. "My Lord, we are so pleased to see you. Come in, do come in. " Her fat fingers circled his upper arm giving the firm bicep an appraising squeeze as she guided him into her private parlor. From a larger room deeper in the row house the mixed sound of women and men's laughter emerged. "I know you won't be disappointed." Mrs. Featherwink settled her broad bottom on a spindly chair behind a small writing desk and inclined her head toward an armchair, inviting Gordy to sit. "A small sherry?" She reached for a cut-glass decanter. Behind her the flocked wallpaper showed signs of fading. A large water mark on the ceiling spread its stain toward a curling corner of the red paper.

Gordy accepted the stemmed glass and took a sip, leaned back, and crossed his legs. "I've put my faith in you for the last time, Mrs. Featherwink." He leveled his gaze at her over the lip of the glass. "I will not tolerate another . . . "

"My dear sir, I've met your every request. An impressive list." She licked her long lower lip.

"You've claimed success before."

"I've absorbed all the costs of the merchandise that did not meet your discerning eye." Mrs. Featherwink sighed, "I'm a poor woman; I only have a few years left to secure my retirement. The lower lip trembled.

Gordy felt his anger rising. He'd heard this song before. "I'm sure you've made back your investment time and again." He cast his eyes at the water stain above which the long hallway with a few Extraspecialty rooms lay. Extraspecialty is what Mrs. Featherwink called them. Young girls, boys, men with tits, women with dicks and cunts, a dwarf, tattoos, piercings and splitting, amputees, a third breast, and for one summer a pink pig with a yellow bow tied around its curly tail worked behind locked doors to secure Featherwink's retirement and Halden's too, Gordy suspected. There too were rooms for Mrs. Featherwink's failures to find Gordy what he wanted. He knew each served the house completely; maybe not as completely as the pink pig who fed the residents behind the yellow door a good part of one winter. He had it from a club friend who had it from his favorite at Featherwink's the good Mrs. F cried every time she ate the bacon. His friend claimed his doxie could squirt water from her quim with such accuracy she hit a target twenty paces away. Or, more likely she squirted wine into his open mouth. Still not special enough to be a Featherwink extraspecialty. 

"If you've finished your sherry, I'll show you what we found." She rose with effort from the chair, bumping a vase of dusty ostrich feathers near her elbow. "Halden, call March to stand at the door. Miss Liz will take the ledger." She steadied the vase, extended her hand to Gordy, and walked to a worn and dirty spot on the red-papered wall. Halden entered the room and lifted a lamp from the skirted mantle. A low door in the wall swung inward. "Halden will light our way."

The steps to the basement were narrow and well worn. The shadows danced behind them on the damp wall. Gordy thought he caught the odor of pig as he followed the big man. Keys clanked at Mrs. Featherwink's waist. The steps took a sharp turn to the left the balustrade moved under his hand. His heart beat in double time. This time. This time. He'd made this trip three times before. Three trips that ended in frustration for him and crocodile tears for Mrs. F. Below water dripped slowly. 

"Mind the puddle just there. Don't slip on the floor. Halden, don't rush."

Beyond a row of barrels, none bought with a duty stamp Gordy reckoned, waited two doors. The first stood open and Gordy viewed a thin straw pallet and bucket. The second door with its barred window was firmly closed. A large iron lock rested against the wood. Gordy felt the hair rise on his arms. His ears buzzed. He fought to hide his excitement. Mrs. F patted his arm and inserted the large key in the lock and turned it and pushed the door open.

Straw on the floor, a thin mattress of straw and a thinner blanket. The light from Halden's lamp moved across the floor touching a pair of bare feet, torn pants worn and torn at the knees. The legs pulled back from the light. There was the soft clink of thick iron. Halden lifted the lamp higher. And there he was. Shirt dirty dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, wrists manacled, a heavy chain held by a large staple to the damp wall kept his arms above his head. His head was turned to the side, eyes closed against the light, a purple bruise showed on his left cheek. Dark hair fell to the quick pulse in his neck. His lips were parted. His bare chest heaved and shuddered. 

"Get up ye fool. Halden make him take to his feet. Give the lord a view. What can he see with him curled up like a bug?"

Gordy saw what he liked and liked what he saw. Halden kicked at a dirty leg. This produced a gasp and legs retracted further.

"Pull him up. The damp is getting into my shoes. My lord, just give us a moment."

Halden hung the lamp on hook jutting from the ceiling and wrapped his big hand into the dark hair. He pulled the young man, gasping to his feet. With his other hand he grabbed his jaw and forced the face around for Gordy to examine. A fine nose, full lips, high cheek bones, eyes squeezed shut, dark lashes long enough to cast a soft shadow. Halden released the dark hair and pulled the shirt open. A firm chest with flat nipples. The stomach flat, hard, muscled. The light danced.

"Open your damn eyes. Hit him if he doesn't open those damn eyes." Halden punched the midsection. 

A gasp emitted from the dry lips. Bruises showed along the ribcage. Not his first encounter with those big knuckles. The young man tried to escape by pushing farther against the wall and turning on his chain to present his ribcage to Halden and protect his stomach.

"Hold, Mrs. Featherwink," Gordy stepped closer. "Will you and Halden give me a minute? Let me see what he will do. Please leave the light and move outside."

"As you wish, my lord. Care not to stand to near." Mrs. Featherwink bowed slightly and backed toward the heavy door. She motioned to Halden to follow. "We'll stay close lest you need some help."

"I'm sure I'll be more than fine." Gordy kept his eyes on the dirty figure in chains. He wanted to reach out and stroke the hairless chest, but not yet. Slowly, move slowly. "Get me some fresh water." The two retreated from the cell.

Gordy waited while the water was fetched. He spoke slowly and softly as he moved closer to the young man. Carefully he held the cup to his lips. "Please, you must drink." The lashes fluttered and the lids rose. The bluest eyes. Gordy paused cup suspended. The eyes focused on the cup not Gordy. He lifted it to the cracked lips and gently, most gently let some water trickle into the mouth. Yes. Yes, drinking out of my hand. Gordy dipped a corner of his handkerchief in the water and slowly moved it to the bruised cheek. The head turned and the eyes clamped shut. Gently, slowly Gordy dabbed at the bruise. Gently and slowly. The head turned. The eyes opened. Gordy returned the cup to the full lips. This time the man drank deeply. Water spilled down his chin and onto his chest as he drank. Don't lick it. Not yet. Gordy moved his handkerchief down and dabbed and the water. The eyes snapped shut. "Please, don't be afraid. I'm here to help you." The eyes opened.

Hope. Suspicion. Hope again. The lips parted. "Help?" The eyes swam with tears. One escaped and left a streak on the dirty face. The body relaxed and inclined slightly toward Gordy. "Please." The manacled wrists dropped a bit. The head fell forward and the tears flowed. The chest heaved. He sobbed. "Please, for the love of God, help me."

"Drink more." He dried the tears. "I have to go now. I'll be back. Don't cry. Don't weep. Please, trust me. I'll form a plan. It won't be long." He pressed his fine handkerchief into a dirty hand. "Do all it takes to stay alive. Don't fight them. Remember to stay alive."

Gordy turned to hide his smile. The hook was set. The chain rattled as the figure sagged to the floor. As the lock snicked true, Gordy heard the wracking sobs. He lifted a long index finger to his lips as he smiled fully at Mrs. Featherwink. The three moved to the foot of the steps and began their assent.

Once back in the red room with Halden, March, and Miss Liz back at their posts, George Ryman, Lord Downcliff, the fourth Earl of Leeshore leaned forward in his chair. He steepled his fingers and smiled. "Mrs. Featherwink, let me see more of him.



The Farm Ch. 01



I stood at the counter of a small cafe in the middle of nowhere in Appalachia waiting for my order to finally be taken. There was only one other person there, and yet it might as well have been a whole line. I sighed and folded my arms around me, and looked over the pastries for the third time. I heard the bells on the door ring as someone else came in, but kept my eyes on the redheaded woman behind the counter. She was slowly buttering a bagel as though she was painting a masterpiece. I wanted to jump behind the counter and grab it from her hand and do it myself, and imagined doing so.

"Come on," I muttered under my breath.

A very smooth voice from behind me broke me out of my fantasy and said, "They do take their time around here, don't they?"

I turned my head and looked up at the owner of that voice. He was about six feet, fit, had deep blue eyes, short, dark wavy hair, and olive skin. "Apparently," I replied.

"You're not from around here, are ya?"

"No, you?"

He shook his head, "No. I'm here on some business."

I nodded and watched as the waitress finally finished up and charged the man in front of me. She smiled as she bid him a good day, and then she looked at me and her smile quickly faded. I must have had "bitch" emanating from me.

"What can I get you?" she asked flatly.

"Just a large coffee, cream, and a poppyseed bagel, nothing on it."

She nodded her head and turned away to get my food.

"So, where are you from? By the way, I'm John." He held out his hand and I shook it, trying futilely to match his firm grip.

"I'm Vivienne."

"Nice to meet you, Vivienne."

"You too, John."

"What's that?" he asked as he looked down.

"What's what?" I asked, looking at the floor.

"No, not on the floor -- on your hand. That ring. Where'd you get it?"

I looked at the silver V ring with the tiny O shackle on my right ring finger and bit my lip. "Oh, this....I got it from a website."

"So you're sub-"

"-I don't think this is an appropriate conversation to have at the counter."

"We'll have to have it at a table, then. Can I join you?"

I was not expecting anyone in this town to know what the ring meant. I chose to wear it on my right hand when I wasn't owned, and my left when I was. It had been three years since I'd been officially owned. So how could I refuse? He was the best looking man I'd seen around since I'd arrived the day before. "Sure, why not?" I replied.

The waitress returned with my order and said, "That'll be $1.75."

"$1.75?"

"That's what I said," she sighed.

"Wow that's cheap."

I went into my bag for my wallet but John put his hand on my forearm and said, "I got it. ...Miss, add hers to mine. I'd like a large black coffee and a cheese danish."

"Please, we just met. I can pay for myself."

"No, allow me," he said as he put his hand on his chest and mock-bowed.

I smiled and said, "Fine. Thank you."

"Go find us a table. I'll be right there."

I took my things and sat down at a table next to the window, and watched as John paid for his food then turned and walked toward me. I looked away, out the window at the empty town square. John sat down and sipped his coffee.

"So, you're a slave?"

"I'm a submissive. I do still like to have a job, and exercise some autonomy."

"Have you ever done 24/7?"

"Not for a few years."

His eyebrows raised, "So no one owns you?"

"No. Sometimes for a night or a weekend, but I haven't found anyone who is right for me."

He leaned back in his chair and gazed at me. "Had it not been for the ring, I wouldn't have guessed."

I smiled, "That's why I wear the ring."

"But you seem so..."

"What?"

"Not submissive."

"I can be difficult. But I am naturally submissive in my personal relationships."

"Not a switch?"

"I tried it. I don't like it."

"What don't you like about it?'

"It feels awkward. I can't take myself seriously in that role. Are you a switch?"

"No. I'm dominant."

"Ever tried submitting?"

"Once or twice. But when I'm in that role, I can't take the other person seriously."

I lauged and he said, "I must have some good luck. I walk in here, meet a beautiful girl, and she just happens to be what I've been looking for."

"Well I know we're into the same lifestyle, but I wouldn't go that far. You don't even know me."

He leaned forward. "Can I get to know you?"

"Well I'm not here for very long. I'm leaving tomorrow, probably."

"But we're here now. What are you doing today?"

"I planned on going for a hike."

"What are you doing tonight, then?"

"Nothing."

"So tell me," he started, staring intently at me, "what brings you here? Where are you from?"

"New York, and I'm travelling across the country."

"Alone or with friends?"

"Alone." Shit. I didn't mean to say that."

"Why are you alone?"

That was an odd question for a stranger. He must have seen the look on my face and added, "No boyfriend?"

"No. ...Why?"

"A girl like you, travelling alone...could be dangerous."

"I'm a cop."

He looked surprised, and slowly chewed his danish as I took a bite of my bagel. "Where are you a cop?"

"New York."

"City?"

I laughed, "Yes, New York City."

"Wow."

"What?"

"How old are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. This is how people get to know each other -- by asking questions."

"I'm 27. And you?"

"40."

"You are not 40."

"I am. I swear. I'll show you my license, officer," he teased.

I knew he didn't believe me. And I knew I couldn't lie to him. He was calmly looking through me, waiting for my admittance of guilt, as he chewed on his danish and sipped his coffee.

"I lied. I'm not a cop."

"Oh?" he said in mock-surprise.

I couldn't help but smile at that, and he smiled back but still managed to maintain a somewhat serious look.

"I'm really a pharmacist. I tell people -- men -- I just meet that I'm a cop because..."

He waited patiently for me to go on. He even leaned in closer. I kept smiling like a fool because I was so damn nervous.

"...Because I guess it makes me feel safer? Like they'll think twice. Men, I mean. Will think twice."

"Think twice of what?"

"Taking advantage of me."

He shook his head and leaned back, then put his hand on the table. I wanted to reach out and stroke the smooth skin on the back of it. "Do you feel safe with me?" he asked.

"I just met you."

"That's not an answer."

"Yeah it is."

"How so?"

"It's logic. I just met you, therefore why should I feel safe with you? What have you shown me to make me feel safe with you?"

"I'm not asking you logically about how you should feel. I'm asking you what you do feel."

"Hmm..."

He waited. I lowered my eyes but they kept darting back to his hand.

"I see you eyeing my hand, Vivienne."

"I know it's there as bait, John."

He smiled and left it on the table.

"I guess...I guess I feel safer than I think I should with you- because I just met you and you haven't really done anything to earn my trust, just like I haven't done anything to earn yours."

"But you have."

"How?"

"You told me you were lying and immediately told me the truth. What did I do to earn that?"

I put my hands against my temples in a V. "I don't know."

"This isn't calculus."

"Okay. You're trying to point out how you know I know how you make me feel safe, correct? I don't know how you do. But your point is that you know it, and I know it, so why don't I just let myself go and feel safe? That's my final answer. Can I have your hand now?"

A wide smile spread across his face and he opened his hand. I slipped mine in it. Immediately it was as though someone flipped on the ignition and sped me down a highway.

"So, do you feel safe?"

"Maybe I don't want to feel safe," I said, leaning in towards him. "Maybe I want to feel free."

He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb slowly as we looked at each other. "What if I could make you teeter on the edge of both?"

"Then I'd say you're very talented. But a sense of physical safety is easy to achieve. Emotional safety is not."

"With some girls."

"Well you have to earn trust."

"True. But some girls like being emotionally unsafe. They like feeling ravished mentally."

"Yeah, and those are the girls I dole out meds to at the pharmacy."

He laughed at that.

"So, pharmacist, huh? Do you like it?"

"I'd rather be in a lab, but we take what we can get."

"No we don't. We take what we want. Why aren't you in a lab?"

"It's quite competitive and I have tuition to pay."

"So?"

"So...I needed to do something for money?"

"How long are you on vacation for?"

"Two weeks. Well, now 12 days."

"Well when you get back, start looking for the job you want. There are lots of places outside of NY."

"There are."

"In fact, if you have an internet connection where you're staying, you should look. I can help you."

"What do you know about pharmaceuticals?"

"Well...I don't know much. But I can tell you about locations. My job requires me to be peripatetic. I've been all over the country."

"So you're very successful, huh?"

"I'd say so," he grinned.

"Where is your permanent residence?"

"Florida."

"Ugh, Florida."

"Yeah, I'm looking to move."

"Where?"

"Who knows? Maybe New York."

I smiled and blushed.

"You're very cute when you blush." He lowered his voice, "I'd like to make you do that more...see your face turn red and flustered as I tease and torment you as you submit to me..."

My insides stirred and my face burned even hotter and he laughed. "I see my methods are already having an effect on you."

I grinned and replied, "Indeed."

We sat there in silence for a moment looking at each other. He sipped his coffee then asked, "So are you really going on your hike alone?"

"Why?"

"You're- look at you. Fit, lovely curves, long, wavy deep red hair, beautiful face- you shouldn't go alone."

"Thank you. But however attractive I may be to you isn't a reason for me to not go alone."

"Women have been going missing around here lately, and in the surrounding counties."

"How do you know that?"

"It's in the news. I'd offer to come with you but I uh...have to go see a man about a horse."

"I can defend myself, I'll be fine. So you haven't actually told me: what are you doing here?"

"I do contracting and surveying. One of my clients is looking to purchase land around here, for a factory."

"What client?"

"Confidential."

"Really? Why can't you disclose it?"

"Don't want to create any hype."

I looked up and saw the waitress staring at us. I frowned and she turned away and pretended to do some work.

"What is it?" asked John, turning to look where my eyes were looking.

"Nothing. She was just staring at us."

"Maybe she thinks we make a handsome couple."

I rolled my eyes and finished my bagel. He laughed.

"I should go. I wanna be back early."

"So soon?"

"Yes," I smiled.

"Let me take you out to dinner tonight."

That question slowed me down. "Why would-"

"-because I'm already holding your hand, you're lovely, and I'd like to get to know you better."

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

He shrugged. "That doesn't matter. Where are you staying?"

"At the motel up the road."

"I can pick you up there. Do you have a cell phone?"

He took out his phone and started spelling out my name.

"It's with a I-E-N-N-E."

"That's very pretty, Vivienne."

"Thank you, John."

We exchanged numbers and I left. As I got into my car I saw him watching me very intently. I felt like prey. I wondered to myself as I waved to him what had just come over me, and if I'd made a mistake.

It was about 11 o'clock when I reached a small creek in the woods, and I decided to sit down and rest in the warm sun. I found a rock and put my backpack down, and took off my shoes. I stuck my feet in the cold water and laid back, the sun beaming down on my face.

I hadn't seen a single person as I was hiking, which seemed odd to me since it was such a lovely day for it. If I lived there, I'd take advantage of it wherever I went.

I heard some rustling and turned my head towards the sound, but couldn't see anything. It was probably a small animal. I closed my eyes again.

Suddenly, the light of the sun that beamed through my eyelids was obscured by shadow. I opened my eyes to see three blond-haired, bearded men standing there, two of them husky, one of them thin.

One of the husky ones asked, "What're you doing in these woods, girl?"

My mouth was agape. I sat up but they pushed me back down. "What the fuck?!" I exclaimed.

"Answer our question."

"I'm hiking!"

"Don't look like hiking to me. Looks like sleeping."

"So what?"

"So...maybe we wanna sleep witcha," said the other husky man, laughing.

"Don't touch me...I'm a cop!"

"Oh? And where are you a cop?"

"New York."

"Well you're not in New York anymore. And guess what? We are gonna touch ya. Liam, grab her legs, I'll get 'er arms. Fred, pick up her bag."

I started screaming, "Get off me! Put me down! Get the fuck off me!"

Fred complained, "Why can't I be the one to carry 'er?"

Liam yelled, "Shut up Fred! You'll get a chance with 'er just like the rest of us."

Fred and Drew were the husky ones, and Liam was the thin one -- and to be honest, he was good looking, unlike the others. I turned my head towards Fred as he slung my backpack over his shoulder. It was like they knew I'd be there. I thought about John. What if he'd told them? What if-

My racing mind grinded to a halt as they stood me up and pushed me against a tree. Drew pressed his hand to my throat and flipped out a knife. I started shaking my head frantically. I screamed as he pressed the knife to my black tank top and in one motion cut it down the middle. He slid the cold steel underneath the center of my bra against my breastbone and sliced my bra open. I couldn't move for fear of running myself through on his knife. Drew undid my jeans and pulled them down, along with my panties. He shoved his bearded face in between my legs and inhaled.

"My, my, that is some nice, fresh pussy." He darted his tongue at my clitoris several times and then he stood up and started fondling my breasts, pulling and twisting my nipples, making them hard. I whimpered and closed my eyes as he started sucking on them.

They ripped my shredded clothes off me and then Liam pressed down on my shoulders and shoved me to my knees. He took out some rope and began tying me to the tree tightly.

When he was finished, Liam took a step back and looked at me and said, "Pa's gonna be real happy we found her. Just look at those nice big breasts -- what is she, a D?" He picked up my bra and checked the tag. "Yep. I was right. 36 D."

Drew undid his pants and took out his hard cock. He knelt down and got real close to my face, his hot breath burning my nostrils. "We're gonna take turns fuckin' yer mouth. And then, we're taking you to our farm."

Drew spread my legs apart and slid his fingers up my pussy.

"What's this? Yer wet! Liam, Fred, come feel this slut's cunt. She's moist already!"

I shook my head and shouted in protest as they took turns feeling my pussy. I was mortified, I couldn't believe it. I liked rough sex, I liked being tied up...I liked all sorts of kinky shit, but not like this, not in these circumstances. What was wrong with me?

Drew slapped my face several times lightly and said, "Yer gonna be a real good whore."

I turned my head away and he stood up and put his dick to my lips. "Open up."

I shook my head and turned it away.

"I said open your fucking mouth you slut!"

Liam pulled my hair hard, making me yelp. Just as I did so, Drew stuck his fat cock in my mouth.

He fucked my mouth hard, grunting and groaning as Fred and Liam stood there watching with their dicks in their hands, stroking themselves. Liam said, "I'm gonna fuck that pretty mouth. You want this cock in your mouth, bitch?"

Liam then knelt down beside me and stuck his hand between my legs. "Look how wet you are...you're one a those kinky bitches that likes this kinda stuff, aren't ya?"

"Mm-mm!" I shook my head with Drew's dick in my mouth.

Fred complained, "Why can't we fuck 'er? I wanna stick my cock in that pussy!"

Liam shouted, "You ask this every time, and every time we tell you the answer! No fucking the whores until they're tested!"

Fred muttered, "Looks clean ta me."

Liam spoke in my ear as he teased my clitoris with his index finger, "He's impatient. He sees a nice li'l piece like you and can't wait to get his nut off."

I started moaning on Drew's cock and Drew started fucking my mouth harder, gagging me. Liam whispered, "Yeah, you gonna cum, bitch?"

I shook my head and groaned and struggled against the rough bark of the tree. Liam put his other hand on my throat and forced me to stay still. I looked up towards the sky and started moaning. No, no, no, no, no! My legs started quivering and my orgasm shot through me. I was cumming on Liam's fingers.

"She's cumming! The bitch is cumming! We got ourselves a good one," said Liam excitedly. I groaned and then Drew groaned and shot his load inside my mouth. Liam whispered, "Swallow it, bitch."

I swallowed Drew's salty seed into my belly as his cock pulsated in my mouth.

"You like the way he tastes?" asked Liam as he put his hand around my throat. "Open your mouth, I wanna make sure you swallowed all of it."

I opened my mouth and he inspected it. He smiled and slapped my face lightly and said, "Fred, you're next."

Fred said, "God, I might just wind up bustin' all over the bitch's face!"

Liam laughed and said to me, "Fred gets real excited when we do this sorta thing."

I replied, "What? You mean when you have your way with unwilling women?"

Liam's face turned serious and he said, "You came, didn't you? Means you weren't unwilling."

"Are you fucking stupid?!" I yelled.

Liam smacked me hard and I cried out. "Don't you ever call me stupid, bitch -- 'specially when I got you on yer knees tied up."

Fred smacked my face with his dick, and I realized how small it was. I almost muttered that it was a disappointment but Fred stuck it in my mouth before I could say anything.

Fred didn't take long at all, thankfully. He thrust his small dick my mouth only a couple minutes before he pulled out and blew a heavy, thick load of cum all over my face. I was surprised.

"Such a big load for such a small cock," I said, looking him dead in the eye.

Liam and Drew laughed and Fred yelled, "Fuck you, you dumb bitch! Yer the one wearin' my cum!"

Next it was Liam's turn. Liam pressed his large cock to my lips and I took it in my mouth.

"Drew, play with 'er pussy. Get 'er to cum while she's suckin' my dick. Suck it, bitch!"

I started sucking it slowly and felt Drew's fingers start rubbing my clit. He said, "Damn this pussy's soppin' wet. You like this, girl?"

I didn't answer and kept sucking Liam's dick. Liam groaned and slowly thrust in and out of my wet mouth. I looked up at him and he started smiling at me.

Drew kept rubbing my clit and I started moaning. Liam growled, "Yeah...That's right, you're gonna cum with my dick in yer mouth. I think she's starting to like this. Look at how she's sucking my cock."

I couldn't help it. Drew was rubbing me hard and fast, and I felt my orgasm building inside me. My moans gave me away.

"Keep goin', Drew. She's gonna cum, I can see it in her pretty face. Come on bitch, cum with my dick in your mouth."

I shrieked and started cumming hard on Drew's fingers. Liam pulled out of my mouth and jerked his cock until he shot his load all over my face. Without even thinking, I licked it off my lips.

Liam smiled, "Yeah, you like the way I taste baby?"

I lowered my head, defeated. Liam untied me, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.




The Farm Ch. 01



"Pa's not gonna like it if we bring 'er in all messy like that," said Fred. He grabbed my shredded tank top and handed it to me. "Clean your slut face off, bitch."

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, panicked. I struggled to get out of Liam's grip but he smacked my ass hard.

"We're taking you to our farm, little girl. We're gonna let guys come 'n pay to fuck you -- and maybe even breed you," said Liam.

"What?!" I shrieked.

"Shh, settle down. It won't be so bad -- you'll be fuckin' and suckin' all day. Who wouldn't want that?"

"I wouldn't you bastard! I have a life!"

"Now, now. I think you just came twice before didn't ya. Course it probably woulda been three times but Fred don't care to spend the time to make the ladies feel good like we do. He just wants to get his nut off and move on."

"He's got a tiny dick," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Fred's got a tiny dick! He couldn't make 'the ladies' feel good even if he tried."

"Hoooo! Fred, you gonna take that from this whore?"

Fred responded, "That bitch has got my cum all over her face. You think I give a damn? Now clean yourself off, bitch!"

"What's your 'Pa' gonna do if I don't?"

"It won't be us he punishes, that's for damn sure!"

Liam said quietly, "Just clean yourself off. It'll be better if you do, girl."

I wiped my face off until I was satisfied that it was devoid of any cum. Then I threw my cum-covered tank top at Fred's face.

"You fucking cunt!" Fred screamed.

Liam and Drew started laughing hysterically. "Looks like we got a live one!" said Drew.

"You'll fucking pay for that," growled Fred.

"What're ya gonna do?" I asked, "Sodomize me with your tiny cock? I've seen clits bigger than that."

Liam and Drew stopped and started laughing hard, Drew doubled over. Liam put his hand on the back of my knee and turned his head to me and said, "You are definitely not like the other women we got. What'd you say you were? A cop? You've got some balls, lady. I like you."

I couldn't believe that they actually believed me, and thought about John and wished I'd taken his advice.

They made their way through the woods with me until we reached an opening. Liam put me down and turned me around. We'd come to a field that lead to a big, old mansion and what looked like a large set of stables, a dirt road separating the two and winding its way into the distance.

"Take a good look at that, sweetie. That's gonna be your new home."

Liam grabbed my arm and walked me through the field. "This used to be a plantation, back before the war."

"Uh...you mean the war that you lost back in 1865?" I said.

Liam frowned and then looked at the sky and said, "The South will rise again. And it's risin' right here."

I couldn't tell if he was a dreamer or just an idiot. But he was definitely the alpha in the group, so I dared not insult him. I had other plans for him.

I suddenly heard a buzzing sound and realized it was my phone. I thought of John, how it was probably him, and wondered again if he was behind this.

Fred said nervously, "Shit. Women and their phones."

"We'll get rid of it," said Drew, obviously impatient towards him. "We always do."

They walked me around the side of the house and in through what I presumed was the servants' entrance. Liam lead me through a narrow white hall to a bathroom and said, "Wash your face off good with the soap there. And wash your cunt too. Pa likes to see his girls clean."

I went into the bathroom and shut the door. A window! I went to it and tried to lift it but it was sealed shut. Fuck. I had to find a way out.

I heard Liam's voice from behind the door. "I don't hear no water running. You can't escape, girly. That window's good and sealed! All the windows here are bulletproof."

Bulletproof? What the hell was this place? What was I going to do? I turned on the faucet and grabbed a towel, not caring if it was dirty or clean. I ran it under the hot water and squirted some soap into it, amazed that they actually cared about cleanliness. I looked around for a mirror but there was none. They were smart. If there had been a mirror, I'd have broken it and used the glass as a weapon.

I scrubbed my face with the towel for a while, trying to get a moment's respite from what had become an otherwise hopeless situation. I thought about my family, my friends, my job...would I ever see them again?

Liam banged on the door, making me jump. "What's taking you so long?" he shouted.

I hesitated, then said, "Just trying to cover your asses! You made a mess of me! It's in my hair!"

"Oh, well isn't that kind a you? Hurry up! Fuckin' women take forever to get ready."

I ran the towel under the faucet again and started cleaning my pussy since it was still dripping with my own cum. I frowned, ashamed at myself.

I turned the faucet off when I was satisfied and Liam opened the door. I looked at him, my face dripping wet.

"Aw come on," he said as he walked in. He took a bandana out of his back pocket and used it to dry my face off as I stood there looking at him. He was actually being gentle with me.

Liam was definitely the best-looking one of the three. His hair was long and blond, and his beard was more of a goatee. He was also leaner than Drew and Fred, and taller.

"You the youngest?" I asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You're way better looking than your brothers. Way better looking."

"You tryin' ta charm me?"

"Just making an observation."

Liam finished drying my face and put his bandana back in his pocket. "I can't figure you out, girly. You didn't cry or nothin'."

"It takes a lot to get me to cry."

"So you liked it? I knew it."

"Fuck you!"

"Don't talk to me like that or I'll stop bein' so nice. Anyway, my guess is, because of your looks, you're gonna be bred. Pa'd be crazy not to take advantage of a piece like you. Hell, I might even try to breed you myself...provided Pa approves."

Shit. "...What if I can't get pregnant?"

"Well, there'll be no use lyin' 'bout it -- the town doctor checks everyone out here."

"The town doctor? What? Is the whole town in on it?"

"Well, not the whole town but -- hey, stop askin' so many questions."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the bathroom and lead me down the hall and through a doorway that lead to several flights of stairs.

"Can't I at least get some clothes?"

"Only for certain things. Mostly, you'll be naked."

"...Don't you have a mother? What would she think?"

He stopped and turned around. Quietly he said, "My mother is the one who makes sure all you girls are presentable."

I wondered if I should ask if she was a whore too, but swallowed it before it could pass my lips, knowing better than to ask that. Instead I asked, "How is she okay with this?"

"Like I said, you ask too many questions."

He pulled me with him up the rest of the stairs and opened the door to a very large foyer. I took a look around, and noticed how well-decorated it was: cream-colored walls, red damask curtains, and what I assumed were the original hardwood floors. Liam pulled me into a large study where an older man was waiting behind a large, mahogany desk. I was amazed as I looked around. The family seemed to be a strange juxtaposition of high-and-no class.

"Pa, this is...what's your name, girl?"

I shook my head and almost laughed that he hadn't thought to get my name, then frowned when I realized how much it didn't even really matter. "Vivienne."

"Vivienne. We found 'er-"

"The boys told me all about it," said Pa. "C'mere, girl. Lemme look at you."

I walked towards the desk and when I was a few feet away from it, Pa put up his hand and said, "Stop. That's good. Liam -- get outta here 'n tell your mama we got a new one."

Liam left and shut the door behind him. Pa formally introduced himself, "My name's Andrew, but you will be callin' me 'Pa' like everyone else. Sit down."

"But I'm naked."

"I don't care, I told you to sit down. Sit!"

I sat down in one of the cold metal chairs across from his desk.

"Now, here's how this works: you're our product. You do what we tell you to do, when we tell you to do it. You behave, we treat you nice. You misbehave, you get punished. You service our clients how they want. Missy, my wife, will go over the other details with you-"

"-What other details?"

"Don't interrupt me, girl, or I'll be forced to spank ya," he laughed. He cleared his throat and went on, "Now, where was I? Oh. We have your information right here," Andrew held up my wallet, "so don't even think of escaping. We will find you. Men come here and pay to use you. Some men will try to breed you. If you do get bred -- and I'm sure you will -- they'll own you, for a price. If they can't meet that price -- or if they don't wanna meet that price -- we take your baby and put it up for adoption."

"...You mean you sell it on the black market."

"I mean we find it a good home where it will be cared for."

"You're sick. What if I don't want to get pregnant?"

"That one's not an option. Women are meant to be bred. It's the law of the land. Now, I'm gonna read off a list of things that no clients are allowed to engage in under any circumstances-"

"You enforce limits?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes, we enforce limits. If a client breaks those limits, they are dealt with according to severity. Those limits are: piss, blood, scat, and of course death."

"What a relief," I said sarcastically.

"Don't get sassy with me, bitch. I own you now. Now, our doctor just so happens to be here right now. I'm gonna send you to him to get checked out. But first, I'm gonna try a piece of you myself. Get up and come over here."

I realized I was shaking as I stood and walked around the desk to where he was sitting. He stood up and swiftly bent me over the desk, then slid two fingers inside my pussy.

"Mmm....You got a nice pussy. Nice from head to toe...we're gonna get a lot of money for you."

I groaned as he finger fucked me. He started spanking my ass and commented, "You get nice and juicy too. The men are gonna like you."

"You'll fucking pay for this," I said through my teeth.

"I don't pay for nothin' here."

He started fucking me with his fingers faster and said, "They told me you came twice before. You know if you hadn't, you'd have been let go."

"Fuck you!"

He spanked me hard and I screamed, then immediately started cumming all over his hand. "Oh god!" I sobbed and moaned as I rode out my orgasm on his fingers.

"That's right, you like this, don't ya? Now, get on your knees."

My legs were still quivering as I knelt down before him.

"Unzip my pants and take my cock out. They say you got a real nice mouth. I'm gonna fuck it."

I unzipped his pants slowly and looked up at him as he smiled wickedly at me. I felt his cock underneath his boxers and took it out.

"Go on, put it in your mouth. I ain't got all day."

I glared at up at him and he said, "Don't glare, it doesn't become you."

I wrapped my lips around his hard dick and started sucking from the tip to the shaft. He put his hand on the back of my head and started thrusting in and out as I tightened my lips around him.

"Oh god...that's good, girl. You are one hot piece of ass, the men are gonna be linin' up for you."

I groaned and he started thrusting faster, his cockhead hitting the back of my throat until I started gagging. "Oh boy, I'm gonna fill your mouth with it....Fuck!"

I felt his cock throbbing between my lips and he shot his hot load into my mouth. It seemed to be neverending. "Swallow every ounce of it, girl," he said as I felt him empty the last few drops onto my tongue.

I swallowed it and he crouched down and opened my mouth to inspect it, like Liam had.

"Yep," he said, looking down at me, "Men are gonna pay a lot for you. Get up, I gotta take a picture of you for our catalogue."

"Catalogue?"

"That's how men pick their whores here. They look through a catalogue at your photos and descriptions."

"You have descriptions?"

"Of course. For instance, I might describe you as...hmm...submissive, multi-orgasmic, fertile -- although we'll have to verify that with the doctor -- smart. You're a livewire."

"What does it matter if I'm smart?"

"Some men like to converse before they do the deed. It should also be noted in your description that you might benefit from some punishment, since you also got a smart mouth. Now, get up and stand by those books over there."

Before I could do it myself, he'd pulled me up by my arms. I jerked free and walked to the shelf of books he'd pointed at. I noticed he had The Communist Manifesto.

"Marx? You read Marx?" I asked incredulously.

He laughed, "As they say, 'Know thine enemy.' Now..."

I heard his camera snapping photos even though I was turned around. I turned my head to look at what he was doing and he took another. "Now turn all the way around," he said, motioning with his hand.

I turned all the way around and watched him as he snapped several more photos. "I suppose I can't get ya ta smile, can I?"

"Nope."

He shrugged, "Most of 'em don't."

"Gee, I wonder why?"

"Girl, shut up and look at the camera!"

I looked at the camera and waited for him to finish. I was beginning to realize how hopeless this situation really was.



The Farm Ch. 02



After my first experience of sex I knew I wanted more of the same. We walked back to the farm not saying a word ever now and then Thomas would run his masculine hand down over my arse and I would look at the front of his trousers, hoping to see the bulge that would mean I could have more of his pounding rod. 

When we got back Thomas looked at the ploughed field and then back at me, he then said. “You plough straighter than them two.” I just smiled and realised I was hungry and I hoped Grace and April had got supper ready. Sure enough as we walked into the farm house kitchen a nice stew was being dished up by Grace as April laid the table. 

Being Friday night Grace and April had planned to go into Exeter to a dance and I knew they wanted to borrow the truck, normally Thomas lets them have the truck but he dose like all the dishes done and the table laid for breakfast. So when he said they could leave the dishes I was surprised, April asked me if I wanted to go with them but I made up an excuse that I was tired and my legs were saw from the ride so I wanted to go to bed, which was half true. 

Thomas told them he wanted the truck back by 3pm the following day and as Grace had family in Exeter they would stay there the night any way. 

The girls wolfed down the stew and were out the door in record time Thomas and I ate our supper slowly but silently Thomas was the first to speak by saying. “You liked being taken today didn’t you?” 

I almost choked on the piece of bread that I had just put in my mouth and quickly made a grab for the glass of milk on the table while I got my breath back, I didn’t reply but I think he got the message as he then said he would fill the tub for me to have a bath and he then got the tub of the wall and filled the pot to heat the water while I cleared the table. 

I turned to face the table and I felt Thomas’s hands on my bum this time it was firm grip and I felt his fingers work into the long crack between my arse cheeks opening them, one hand moved around my body and grabbed my breasts, he squeezed one and then the other he pinched each nipple hard making them pop up and stick out. 

His other hand had been slowly working away on my arse and then I realised that my dress had been pulled up so my knickers were the only thing between me and his hands. “Please fuck me” I asked and he was only to willing to oblige me. 

With all his strength he pushed me down on to the table and kicked then he pulled my knickers off and I felt the coolness of the evening on my exposed flesh, he kicked my legs apart so my bottom lowered then I felt his rod against my skin he ran it down my arse crack until he found my bum hole he gave it a little push and I was shocked that he would think I would let such a thing could happen, but he moved down to find my sex slit and my body opened up for my farm master. 

Behind me I heard Thomas start to moan. I had taken his length into me for the second time in one day and he had taken me. I moved my head around and I stole a glance out of the corner of my eye but all I could see was Thomas’s rhythmic movements as Thomas ploughed his length into my juicy slit, By this time I was really turned on and I was trying to push back on him to increase the force of my impalement, it was when I heard a particularly loud groan from behind me and I knew Thomas was no longer able to control himself and with one almighty shove I felt his love cream shoot from his masterful length as he fell on top of me with his tool buried deeply in my sex. 

After a few minutes of lying there I felt Thomas’s length fall from me he helped me you from the table and then for the first time he began kissing me, his tongue started exploring deep onto my mouth I had never felt anything like this before. He unbuttoned my blouse and sucked on my breasts. I couldn’t help but moan with pleasure. 

He pulled away from me and I felt his strength as he placed a hand on each of my shoulders and push me to my knees, once there my face was in direct line with his no shrunken length. “Lick it.” Thomas commanded. I was not sure what he meant but he gestured towards his trousers and then I realised what he wanted to do. 

“No.” I said loudly this seemed to make him angry, but he didn’t make me do anything he just slipped it back into his trousers and went over to the stove and took the pots of hot water and poured them into the tin bath then sat in the chair in the corner. What was he doing I wasn’t going to take a bath while he watched but then it dawned on me that this man had seen me naked, and had taken my body, so what would it mater if he saw me bath myself. 

I removed my dress and let it fall to the floor and then I heard Thomas let out a sigh it had dawned on me that this was the first time I had let him view my body without trying to hide it and he seemed very pleased with what I had to offer him. 

I slipped into the tub letting the warm water bubbled up around my shoulders; I closed my eyes, and let my fingers gently explore my body all the time Thomas just sat there watching me. He handed me a candle to me and he said. “Use this.” I was not sure what he meant but I soon got the idea I blushed. 

Thomas smiled. "It's okay. If you don’t do it I will do it for you.” he sat up, as I opened my legs and pushed the candle into my opening, Thomas came up along side the tub. He stroked my face. "Baby, you are so beautiful. 

You've grown into a wonderful woman." As his hands slid over my shoulders, his fingers tracing lightly over my collarbone and down over my chest. "You are so well developed.” 

His touch was like fire, on my skin they seemed to burn into my flesh. My breathing was halted and I shook slightly as I pushed the candle deep into my love slit. He cupped my breasts softly. "Perfect. I've not seen many breasts but these are the best I have seen." He slid his hands across my belly and his fingers slid and down over my legs. "Nice legs too." 

He pulled me towards him, and his mouth found my neck and ear and he nibbled softly while his hands gently massaged my breasts, kneading them, encouraging the nipples to harden. I closed my hand around the candle and pushed it into me harder, his fingers were like electric cables, shocking me where they touched and when his right hand slid over my belly and between my legs I moaned loudly. He caressed my soft curls were my hand was now ramming in the candle. 

He stopped my hand and pulled the candle out then moved it down and I felt it push it against my puckered little hole “No” but it was too late and I felt a sudden burning as he forced the candle into my arse, while I screamed with pain. 

He had been so gentle and soft up until this, he kisses me saying. “It will be ok,” My screams became murmurs and sighs as I felt his hot breath in my ear. My body began to shake as he masturbated my arse with the candle, while with his other hand he expertly started inducing shiver after shiver until my cunt wrapped tight around his fingers and I climaxed like I had never done before. 

This is not the end of the story or is it?

Love Lin... 



The Farm Ch. 02



The kitchen was bustling with activity as we boiled spaghetti, cooked the sauce, tossed a salad and baked some garlic bread. It was a meal that would have gone well with a nice red wine, but there was no alcohol permitted at The Farm. As usual, the meal was a loud and raucous affair, during which I shared a few knowing looks with Denise, Maryann and Sarah, but nothing that would have raised anyone else's suspicions. Once we'd finished, I headed outside with Ted, Jeff and Frit so that Ted and Jeff could have a smoke and we could talk while those who hadn't helped to prepare the meal cleaned up after it.

As it always did when we were at The Farm, talk turned to "Plan V." We'd come up with "Plan V" on our first visit to The Farm, but it had taken a few trips to earn that name. The first things I'd noticed upon pulling up to the house on our first visit were the big windows, the big trees and the many levels of roofs. Put that together with half of the visiting group being female and we managed to see pretty close to every female on every trip in some state of undress. We came up with a signal known only to the four of us for when one of us thought there was potential for a viewing opportunity. The "V" in "Plan V" obviously stood for "Voyeurism."

It was dark enough as we sat out there that we had to be prepared for opportunities at any time. If any of the ladies slipped upstairs for any reason, we would be outside her window waiting. It was better if one of us heard that someone was going to take a shower or go to bed, because then there was a better chance of seeing them undressing. Unfortunately, the bathroom with the shower was in the middle of the house with no windows. Because we tended to get working first thing in the morning, however, anyone taking a shower usually did so at night rather than in the morning.

Once we were back inside, we kept attuned to what everyone else was up to. When Chrissy finally said that she was going to take a shower, we casually made our way back outside and positioned ourselves on the roof outside the window of the double she was sharing with Karen. Our timing was great because she was still rooting through her bag for her sleepwear. A nightshirt and robe located, she closed and locked the door and started peeling off her shirt. Chrissy was thin but had a very athletic physique, with breasts on the smaller side. As she shed her sports bra, though, it was obvious that her breasts were bigger than all that restraining elastic and lycra had allowed us to realize. Her nipples were hard and a scattering of freckles decorated her chest. She dropped her shorts and her panties together, giving us a view of her trim bush, the same dark blonde as the curls on her head.

She turned to grab her robe, giving us a nice view of her taut ass, then slipped into the robe hiding her figure from our view. Leaving the nightshirt behind, she unlocked the door and left the room. In a hushed voice, I pointed out that since she had left her nightshirt behind, we should have another opportunity to see her naked when she got back as she changed into it from her robe. Rather than climbing down and climbing back up again in a few minutes, we stayed up on the roof, talking quietly while looking up at the stars through the trees. When the light came back on a little while later, we moved quickly back to her window. She bolted the door again and quickly shed her robe, revealing her naked body to us again. Instead of pulling her nightshirt on right away as we were expecting, however, she turned to face the full-length mirror on the back of the door and cupped her breasts as she looked herself over.

Positioned this way, we were able to still see her full-frontal reflection while also getting an excellent view of her ass. She caressed her tits and toyed with her hard nipples before dropping both hands down to her pussy. After a minute or so of gentle rubbing, she grabbed the chair from the corner and positioned it in front of the mirror. She sat on it, spreading her legs wide, hiding her ass from us but allowing us to see in the mirror as she embedded two fingers into her slit. While she pumped those two fingers rapidly in and out, she diddled her clit with two fingers from her other hand. Had I been alone on that roof, I would have had my cock in my fist at that point. She rocked her hips as she did herself, alternately looking down at her pussy or up at her reflection. She must have been concerned that Karen could come upstairs at any time, so she was working herself over furiously. It probably wasn't even five minutes before she threw her head back and began to tremble.

She didn't allow herself the luxury of recovery time so was quickly up and pulling her nightshirt on; I was pleasantly surprised that she didn't bother pulling panties on under it or her robe on over it. Once she'd left the room, we climbed down off the roof and got to discussing the few times we'd seen a performance like that before. It didn't happen often, but we'd seen a few masturbation sessions before. I suggested to Frit that, since he really seemed to have the best chemistry with Chrissy, he might want to put a move on her, seeing as she appeared to be horny. He didn't have to give it much thought before he decided that he'd seek an opportunity. We headed back inside and hung out with everyone for a while longer.

It was Karen who decided to leave us next, which made it easy for us since we'd already been outside her window watching Chrissy. We had resumed our positions by the time she came into the room and shut the door. The first thing she did was to shake her hair down, letting loose the long, dark-blonde locks. She then pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing a fairly plain bra restraining her luscious looking tits. The bra was gone in a flash and we all sucked in our breath in seeing her big aureoles and thick, hard nipples. As we all stared at her tits, she opened her shorts and let them drop to her ankles, leaving her only in her panties. When she turned back to the door to slide the bolt, I had to resist the urge to groan out loud. She was wearing a thong and her ass looked outstanding.

She sat on the edge of the bed right across from the window and, like Chrissy, rooted through her bag for her sleepwear. Of course, Karen's bag was sitting on the floor, so she was leaning forward and her big tits were swaying hypnotically. She finally sat up as she pulled out a nightshirt, but she didn't pull it on right away as I expected her to. I think it's safe to say we were all stunned when she set her nightshirt aside and started massaging the front of her panties with the tip of one of her fingers. We watched as she pulled her panties aside and continued to stimulate her clit with her fingertip, then grasped the elastic waistband and slid them off. Her bush was a trim, narrow strip of dark blonde fur above her pussy, but her lips were shaved smooth.

She started stimulating her clit again, looking down at her hands as she did, but soon lay back on the bed. She couldn't have been in a better position from our perspective; she was directly across from us with her legs spread wide, stimulating her clit and fingering her pussy, while her tits stood straight up on her chest, squeezed together by her arms, her hard nipples pointing at the ceiling. I know I felt like jumping through the window and fucking the hell out of her, despite having blown three loads already that day. She was gyrating her hips as she worked herself over and we absorbed every detail. If she hadn't said that she was going to bed, I'd have tried to stick my head into the room when she left just to try to catch a whiff of all that had gone on in there. She was moving faster and, like Chrissy again, probably didn't want to take too much time. She started arching her back, lifting her ass up off the bed while still working on her clit and pussy then, finally, collapsed back onto the bed. She convulsed a few times before her hands went still and she just lay there for a minute, her chest heaving.

She sat up, let out a long breath, then grabbed her nightshirt and pulled it on, not bothering to put panties on either. When she got up and unlocked the door, we waited a couple more minutes, but she grabbed some toiletries and left the room, so we climbed down from our perch. We were all pretty incredulous that we'd seen two horny chicks taking care of themselves in the same trip. Between that and what I'd already experienced with Denise, Maryann and Sarah, which I hadn't shared with my friends yet, I was wondering what exactly was in the air on that particular weekend. I wasn't complaining, though.

We headed back inside and Ted headed upstairs right away; we didn't see him again that night. Back in the living room, around the huge fireplace, we joined the others and Frit positioned himself next to Chrissy. I squeezed between Maryann and Denise on one of the couches and soon had an arm around each of them. It wasn't too long before Chrissy got up "to use the bathroom" and, a couple of minutes later was followed by Frit. Shortly after that, I got up because I actually did have to use the bathroom. I wasn't surprised to find the door to the first floor bedroom, right next to the bathroom, closed. When I finished my business, I listened at the door and definitely heard some muffled moaning. Heading back through the kitchen, I found Sarah waiting for me. She said that it looked like she was going to be left out again by the way I looked with Denise and Maryann. I reminded her that there were three other guys in the living room and that every one of them would be thrilled by the opportunity to get naked with her, just as I had been. She seemed to think about that for a minute, then apologized to me and gave me a quick kiss before heading back to the living room.

Jeff came into the kitchen right after she left, walking backwards and obviously checking her ass as she went by. Seeing me, he gave me a sly smile and a nod so I told him he ought to just give that a shot. He seemed unsure and asked if she wasn't still saving herself. I told him to trust me, that just because she wouldn't fuck him didn't mean she wouldn't get naked with him and didn't mean he wouldn't have a good time. He nodded thoughtfully as he continued to his destination, the bathroom. I went back to the living room and resumed my position between Maryann and Denise. Sarah was on one couch talking to Mark and Brian who were on the other. Jeff came back and sat with her and, shortly after that, Mark and Brian headed up to bed. Jeff made his interest pretty clear, pretty quickly and when Sarah looked over at me, I discreetly gave her the thumbs up.

Since Denise and Maryann were obviously well aware of each other's position with respect to me, it appeared to be a given that we were all going to be spending the night together. When it became clear that they were anxious to get to it, we left Jeff and Sarah and headed upstairs. We found one of the larger bedrooms empty and gravitated right to the largest bed. I alternated making out with each of them as they undressed me and I groped them. Sandwiched naked between them, Maryann stroked my cock while standing behind me as I caressed Denise's big tits and she massaged my ass. As I worked Denise's shirt up and slipped my hands under her bra, I told her that I wanted to fuck her tits. She agreed and stepped back to pull her shirt and bra completely off while Maryann asked what I was going to do to her. I pointed at the wide headboard and told her that she was going to sit up there while I ate her smooth pussy. She cooed excitedly and, as Denise positioned herself topless on her back in the middle of the bed, Maryann dropped her shorts and shed her thong. As I was straddling Denise's ribs and laying my stiff cock between her tits, Maryann was settling her ass on the headboard.

Denise held her tits together around my cock and I started sliding it in and out while leaning forward to run my tongue up Maryann's dripping slit. I was able to support myself on one arm and slip a finger into Maryann's pussy as I focused my tonguing on her clit. She was moaning, though trying to keep the volume down, and running her fingers through my hair. Meanwhile, the soft flesh of Denise's titties felt awesome as it engulfed my throbbing tool. I could feel Denise's tongue occasionally jut out and lick the head of my cock as it got close to her mouth. Despite the voyeurism of earlier that evening and the fact that I was in the middle of a threesome with two women I hadn't been with prior to that day, I didn't feel as though there was any risk that I'd be cumming too soon. Maryann, on the other hand, sounded as though she might cum at any second.

Her fingers were embedded in my hair and she had started humping her pussy against my face, while seeming to have more trouble controlling the level of her moaning. The pungent taste of her flowing juices just made me want to eat her longer and more vigorously. I felt Denise's tits fall away from either side of my still throbbing cock, but they were quickly replaced by her hot mouth. I felt one hand on the base of my shaft and the other on my balls as she accepted my entire length between her lips. About the time I moaned at the pleasurable feeling, Maryann let out a cry and began to shake as she came. I could feel her pussy flooding around my finger and knew that I would have to slip my cock into her dripping pussy next.

When she'd settled down again and I knew she'd finished cumming, I raised my head and smiled at her bewildered-looking face then looked down at my cock disappearing into Denise's mouth. I asked her if she'd like her pussy eaten and she nodded without slipping my cock out of her mouth. I looked back up at Maryann and asked her if she'd like to get fucked; her eyes cleared quickly as she nodded. I moved off of Denise, my cock popping free of her mouth, and went to work sliding her shorts and panties off. Maryann stood and shed her shirt and bra, standing naked at the head of the bed while I helped Denise sit up once she was also naked. My cock couldn't have been stiffer as I gazed at the two naked hotties I was in the middle of a threesome with. I lay on my back in the middle of the bed and had Denise straddle my face. While I squeezed her round ass and licked the flowing juices from her slit, I felt Maryann straddle my hips and take my cock in her hand. I moaned as I felt her hot, snug pussy engulf my tool.

I lapped up Denise's nectar while Maryann started to slowly ride me, the both of them moaning. I slipped one of my hands from Denise's ass to between her legs so that I could slide a finger up into her slippery pussy. I moved the other hand so that I could slip the fingertips between her cheeks to seek out her anus. While I licked and sucked her clit and fingered her pussy, I rubbed her anus with a fingertip, causing her to moan even louder. Glancing up, I could see her gripping the headboard while her tits swayed enticingly overhead. Maryann, meanwhile, was slowly riding up and down on my cock, her hands braced on my chest. She set a nice slow pace which allowed me to really appreciate how fantastic her pussy felt. I still wasn't yet feeling the impending orgasm; I was just enjoying the feel of her pussy.

Denise was beginning to hump my face hard, one of her hands dropping from the headboard to hold my head in place. I kept working my tongue and fingers, not pushing hard enough to slip a finger into her ass, but stimulating it pretty well. When her other hand dropped onto my head and she held my face against her engorged pussy, I knew she was right on the verge. Finally, with a slightly too loud cry, she began to shudder while flooding my face with even more succulent nectar. I continued to eat her, and Maryann continued to ride me, until she was done and she climbed off my face. I was able to watch Maryann riding me and was surprised that, as slow as she was riding me, the look on her face seemed to say that she was about to cum, too. Denise and I both watched her as her eyes cinched shut and her mouth fell open to let out a low moan while she seemed to go into slow motion. I could feel her pussy getting wetter, but as she let out a sigh indicating that she'd finished cumming, she asked Denise if she wanted to get fucked, too.

I had Denise lie in the middle of the bed because I planned to fuck her hard; I was ready to cum myself. Maryann lay next to Denise as I lay on top of her, guiding my cock into her dripping pussy. While I started pumping my throbbing rod in and out of Denise's hot pussy, Maryann surprised me by reaching over to fondle Denise's big breasts. Denise didn't seem to object as Maryann gently tweaked her hard, thick nipples and watching it made me even hotter than I already was. I pulled Denise's legs up and hooked them over my arms, opening her up and causing my hips to smack against the backs of her thighs each time I slammed into her. I could feel my orgasm starting to come on thanks mostly to Denise's hot pussy. Some credit, of course, went to Maryann's snug pussy and Denise's tits, as well as the vision of Karen and Chrissy both getting naked and diddling themselves.

I fucked her harder and faster with Maryann egging me on, the bed squeaking and the headboard starting to bang against the wall. Denise was gripping my ass and moaning with each thrust as I felt a small hand slip between my abdomen and hers. Maryann was slipping her fingers down to Denise's clit to help her along. We hadn't discussed anything about birth control, so I was starting to think it would be a really good idea to pull out before I came. As my cock was beginning to swell with an impending orgasm, thanks to Denise's pussy seeming to get hotter and wetter, Denise let out a cry and I felt hot juices flooding my cock. That brought my orgasm on even faster and as soon as I knew Denise had finished cumming, I whipped out my cock and moved up over her. Straddling her ribs again, I squeezed her tits around my cock myself this time and started fucking them.

It probably didn't even take a dozen thrusts and I was spewing onto her chest as she and Maryann tried to catch my spunk on their tongues. When I was spent, they worked together to clean off Denise's chest. I collapsed next to Denise and watched them as I caught my breath. With my cum all cleaned up, we lay together on the bed, Maryann moving over so that I was sandwiched between them again. Surprisingly, Denise got up after a short time, saying that she was still horny and was going to see if Mark and Brian were awake. We watched as she left the room naked, her big tits bouncing and I commented to Maryann that Brian and Mark might not be up yet, but she'd get them there quickly. She pulled me close so that our naked bodies pressed together and whispered in my ear that, personally, she felt that three was a crowd, anyway, and she was glad to have me all to herself. I asked her if she hadn't enjoyed our little ménage a trois and she responded that she really had; she didn't mind sharing me, but she wanted to be the primary recipient of my attention. I asked her how she felt about voyeurism and she replied that she found it to be a huge turn-on, so I suggested we go peek at Denise and Mark and Brian.

The other large bedroom was right next to the one we were in, so we crept out into the hall, still naked, and approached the door. From inside, we could hear murmuring and moaning, but the door was closed. I cautiously grabbed the doorknob, bracing myself for a creak or a squeak, and slowly turned it. To my surprise, the door opened silently; I opened it just far enough for the two of us to see what was going on. Maryann was crouched below me as we peeked in to see Denise on all-fours on a bed between one reclining twin's legs, sucking his cock, while the other twin knelt behind her, fucking her doggie-style. I felt my cock responding to watching the three of them getting it on as my gaze shifted from Denise's head bobbing up and down, engulfing the twin's stiff cock while pumping the base, to her hanging, swaying tits, down to the round curve of her ass and the stiff cock sliding in and out below it.




The Farm Ch. 02



I'd watched people undressing and masturbating through a window and I'd seen plenty of people fucking on porn videos, but none of it compared to surreptitiously watching people I knew fucking in person. We could hear every slurp, every moan and every smack of bony hips against round ass. We watched silently as my cock continued to grow and, I assumed, Maryann's pussy got wetter. Eventually, she reached over her shoulder for my semi-rigid cock and began to stroke it. Within the bedroom, Denise came with a subdued cry and quickly afterward there was a position change. She moved up to straddle the cock she had been sucking while the cock that had been tapping her from behind found its way to her mouth as its owner stood in front of her. When Maryann got so worked up that she turned and started silently sucking my cock, I figured it was time for us to go back to bed.

I reluctantly pulled my cock from Maryann's mouth and helped her up then we quietly headed back into the other bedroom without even bothering to close the door we'd been peeping through. We climbed into bed and I lay my naked body on top of her naked body while slowly sliding my cock into her incredibly slippery yet snug pussy. She wrapped her arms around me as we pressed our lips together and slipped our tongues into each other's mouths. We were both truly worked up from what we had witnessed but were also pretty fatigued from all of the activities and sex of the day. I didn't have the energy for any acrobatics, and she seemed content with reserved lovemaking, so I just enjoyed the feel of her hot pussy as I fucked it slowly.

Her hands crept down to grip my ass and, as I gradually increased my pace, she pulled me into her as she raised her hips to meet each of my incoming thrusts. Given that I had blown a load all over Denise's chest not that long ago, I was surprised that I could feel my orgasm already building up as I fucked Maryann harder and faster. Of course, the arousal of watching Denise getting fucked by Mark and Brian had helped and the fact that I was fucking an object of my desire whose pussy felt outstanding didn't hurt either. We got going pretty rapidly, despite our fatigue, and the mattress springs were soon squeaking again. She pulled her mouth away from mine and bit into my shoulder while moaning longer and louder with each thrust.

Astoundingly, her pussy seemed to be feeling hotter and wetter with each thrust, as well, so my orgasm was coming on at a rather swift pace. I was relieved that I wasn't going to leave Maryann in the dust when she pulled her mouth away from my shoulder and let out a cry of pleasure. I kept fucking her sweet pussy, experiencing new heights of pleasure, as she rode out a long and intense orgasm. It seemed like she hadn't even finished cumming yet by the time I exploded into her, letting out a moan of pleasure myself. We kept rocking together until we were both completely spent, then I pulled out and collapsed next to her on the bed. We lay there holding each other close and trying to catch our breath until I got up and turned off the light before quickly climbing back into bed. With her smooth, naked body held tightly against mine, we were both soon sound asleep. 



The Farm Ch. 02



Trembling with fear I squat naked on the floor where the man who dragged me down the hall has dropped the lead attached to the collar about my neck. Starting with fright at his every sudden movement I watch him sort through piles of clothing sniffing back cum scented tears. 

Eventually he holds up a pair of girls panties that he inspects closely. With a satisfied grunt he tosses them at me. I freeze when they land in my lap. They are a cheap white cotton pair of girls briefs. They have little red strawberries on them. 

"Put'em on," he drawled watching intently as I meekly sort out which is the front and struggle to pull them on without standing. The elastic at the legs and waist is tight but the panties themselves are loose and balloon out. "Stand up and show Earle how them panties fit you girlie," he demands mockingly as I scramble to my feet to obey. 

I feel very self-conscious standing there in girls panties while this man inspects them, and me. My body shudders as he reaches out to trace the elastic edging with a coarse finger. Slipping it beneath the edge I stifle a whimper when his fingernail grazes over my ass.

With his finger playing back and forth over my ass pulling at the panties elastic Earle watches me in the cracked mirror in the bedrooms corner. Licking his lips he smells my hair whispering in my ear, "Pull down the front of your panties for me gurl."

With a mew of fear I comply pulling the panty front down until the sparse tuft of my meagre pubic hair shows. "Further," he whispers throatily and I pull the panties down to expose my chilled deflated penis. "Not much of a cock is it," he observes. "More of a cockette," Earle adds with a chuckle. 

Humiliated I stand there burning red from head to toe chewing my lower lip for strength. I draw a long trembling breath when Earle reaches out to clasp my cockette between his thumb and fore finger. I squeal girlie like as Earle's thumb nail begins to bite into my poor little cockette. "Long haired sissy cocksucker like you doesn't really need more than a cockette, do you girlie?" He sneered into my ear squeezing harder making me whimper and dance from foot to foot.

"No sir," I finally yelp in agreement. 

"Fuckin' A right," Earle snarls tugging on my cockette for effect as I silently beg for him to stop. The pain is excruciating. But Earle isn't finished with torturing my cockette yet. Squeezing and twisting he hisses above my refreshed squeals that, "From now on bitch you will keep your little sissy cockette tucked away."

"Yes sir," I whimper crying with humiliation and pain as Earle twists back the other way.

"More of a clit than a cockette even, isn't it?" He spat with disgust pulling my savaged cockette out from my body. "What is this?" Earle demands digging in his nail as I whine plaintively.

"It's my clit sir," I blurted wincing in agony hoping to please him.

"Whaaaaa-aut?" He sneered in my face tugging violently on my clit.

"It's my sissy clit Sir," I wailed, "please, please Sir, please stop!" I implored. "Oh god, please Sir I'll be good," I mewed pathetically. 

Earle stopped twisting. Sensing a way to stop the torment I whimpered, "I'll be your sissy Sir." 

Earle's grip lightened. Desperate to please I whispered in a girlie voice, "I'll be your little sissy slut Sir!"

Earle's fingers released my savaged sissy clit. It tingled painfully as blood rushed back to it. With Earle standing close I delicately tucked my tender little clit between my legs squeezing my thighs tightly together despite the pain. Earle studied the effect closely offering offhandedly, "Not a bad little clef for a sissy." 

Still simpering with fright I mumbled meekly, "Thank you Sir," pulling the cotton panties up into place over sissy clef. 

Earle inspected the effect of my tucked away cockette before making me shriek with fright when he reached behind me to grab the waist of the cotton panties and pulled violently them up. Earle pulled until the crotch of the panties was wedged deeply between the cheeks of my ass painfully pinning my tender cockette against the crotch. 

I was forced to stand on my tip toes as Earle pulled higher mewing plaintively for him to stop. Holding me suspended with the panties firmly griped in one fist Earle studied us in the mirror. Nodding his head in satisfaction he used his forefinger to trace deep clef the panty crotch had created over my burning clit. "Nice camel toe girlie," he chortled pleased with himself. "And a mighty fine ass too!" Earle added slapping an exposed cheek making me prance yelping in response.

"Thank you Sir," I finally managed to bleat out while Earle watched his hand print redden on the white cheek of my ass. Nodding his head with approval Earle stroked the tingling hot spot drawing a long shivering response from my body. Goose bumps jumped out on my flesh as he continued to stroke my ass. 

When his fist released my panty I sighed with relief settling down off my tip toes into Earle's waiting hand. With the panties wedged deeply in the crack of my ass Earle's hand cupped exposed butt cheek possessively and squeezed gently. I bit back a whimper of surprise as Earle whispered in my ear, "Oh yes missy you have one mighty fine ass." I couldn't help mewing in response to his gently squeezing fingers.

Earle got a dreamy look in his eyes as he stared at us in the mirror. Holding me arms length he licked his lips hungrily his nostrils flaring with want and desire. Earle's hand cupping my ass flexed bringing a sharp startled breath from my lips. His fingers dug in more firmly as he flexed his hand repeatedly each motion drawing a responding gasp from me. 

I started, confused as this man's free hand stroked my body lightly from hip to nipple. His fingers played over my nipple and Earle smiled knowingly as it harden beneath his attentions. To my dismay I felt my sissy clit tingling in response to the things Earle was doing to my body.

My body shuddered as Earle's hand released its hold my ass cheek and slipped up my back. A girlie gasp escaped my lips as he gently rolled my hardened nipple between his fingers. Tweaking it Earle smirked as an electric like shock pulsed through me making me gasp and flutter my eyes. Smiling Earle pulled slowly purposefully down on my nipple and with a long gasping, "Aaaahh," I sank confused and aroused to my knees. 

Earle's fingers released my tingling nipple, as my knees gave out his other hand caught me by the hair, stopping me from collapsing completely to the floor. Earle's fingers entwined caressingly into my hair holding me on my knees before him as free hand stroked my cheek. Pulling back gently Earle forced me to look up at him. 

I had never felt more possessed in all my life as my will power drained away beneath his relentless consuming look. Between my thighs my sissy clit stirred. When Earle muttered throatily, "Time to be good to Earle now missy," my little sore cockette clit pulsed with arousal. Earle watched me melt into submission before him with a self-satisfied flicker of his power glinting in his eyes.

I knew what Earle wanted. Earle knew I knew. Surprisingly after the way I had been treated in the front room Earle seemed content to wait, watching his sissy bitch come to terms with her new lot in life. Earle's fingers continued to stroke my face delicately until swallowed resignedly and licked my lips wetly in invitation. As I watched tentatively, Earle popped the top button on his jeans one handed. Then the next, until fully opened they slide to his knees to expose Earle's manhood. 

I stared at Earle's cock and Earle let me. The smell of his sex came to me as I watched precum forming at the tip of Earle's shiny cock head. Earle's fingers in my hair caressed my scalp absently while he watched me, waiting for me to perform for him. Be taken brutally, forced to suck another mans cock was one thing but to be subdued, aware of your position in a situation where your compliance with an once detestable task was a given it seemed was another thing altogether. 

Looking up into Earle's dark gaze I licked my lips wetting them once more. With my lips moist I held Earle's gaze and leant blindly forward until my soft, hot lips caressed the glistening tip of his manhood. Watching I noticed Earle's eyelids flutter as my lips made contact with his cock. Beneath the press of my lips I could feel his member swell pushing out and upwards. I caressed the tip of Earle's engorging cock with my lips breathing the musky odour of his manhood. Earle's body trembled when my hot tongue swirled wetly about the now straining head of his cock lapping at the ooze of precum. 

Straining to hold Earle's now cloudy gaze I kissed my way down the underside of his rigid shaft, flicking my tongue to keep it moist and feel his cock lurch from the contact. When my nose nuzzled into his fetid pubes Earle's fingers tightened in my hair. Earle groaned as my lips caressed and kissed there way gently delicately over his sweaty balls. Breathing in deeply I was becoming intoxicated with Earle's funk. Knowing I was unable to stop Earle from having his way with me I responded with a self preserving desire to please. My mouth parted and I kissed my way wetly back up Earle's now rock hard cock finishing with a long lick of his oozing precum.

With Earle holding my head I pulled back to watch his cock bob before me. Earle's breaths were coming in long shuddering gasps as he struggle for control. Gently I reached out with my soft hand to caress then hold Earle's hard cock. It felt alive, powerful. Pumping him slowly I milked more precum from Earle's cock and mesmerized with the results leant forward to catch it on my tongue before it dripped to the floor. Earle growled his pleasure from above and I looked up sticking out my tongue to show Earle his precum coating it. "Oh yeah baby," Earle moaned, "that's it. Treat Earle good." 

Still pumping Earle's manhood ever so gently I lowered my lips slightly parted to engulf the head. Earle moaned loudly and when I glanced up I could see that he watching the action intently in the mirror. Turning my head slightly I could just make out the reflection of myself on my knees, panties wedged between my white ass cheeks with a red hand print glowing on it. Earle held back my long hair so that it didn't obscure the sight of his cock tip slipping in and out of my lips as I slowly bobbed up and down on it. 

Earle was rocking his hips in time with my bobbing head forcing his hardness a little deeper. My hand squeezed a little tighter as my lips descended down his shaft. My free hand caressing his inner thighs as I forced myself to take more of Earle's cock into my mouth. Earle gasped and thrust his hips forward. Instinctively I squeezed as his cock spurted a jet of cum into my throat my head rocking back with the force of the blast. 

Struggling to accommodate the unexpected size of Earle's load my eyes bulged when his body convulsed thrusting his hips forward and his groin into my face. Gagging on Earle's manhood my grip slipped allowing a second spurt to flood my mouth with his hot gooey spunk. Earle yowled with pleasure arching his back trying to drive his cock deeper. Squeezing tightly and holding on I pulled him from my mouth allowing trails of sticky cum to bubble from my lips and flow down my chin. 

Looking up at Earle I allowed the next pulse of his hot cum to spew over my face. Licking at the cum sticking to my lips I opened my mouth to show Earle the huge volume of cum he had pumped into his bitches mouth, my mouth. With his body still lurching with orgasmic pleasure Earle watched fascinated I licked the dribbles of cum from his manhood. With my free hand I scooped the cum that I had drooled from my chin and sucked it slowly purposefully from my fingers never letting go of his slowly deflating cock. Earle watched carefully as I cleaned him and myself of his cum.

Nodding his head with approval Earle took a long shuddering breath before pushing me away, announcing, "Best get you dressed before the others gets anxious."

I pulled the panty from between my cheeks noting with concern that my cockette had flooded the crotch with the precum of my arousal. While Earle searched for the training bra that matched the panties I wore I did my best to hide my shameful discharge. Once he found the bra he had to help me as I struggled into it. Earle followed it with a pink t-shirt like thing that clung to my chest with puffy arms and bare shoulders. Earle tossed a pair of lace trimmed ankle socks at me and found some come-fuck-me high heels for me to teeter on. "Practice walking," he muttered before returning to his search.

I stumbled about precariously fearful that any misstep would have me breaking an ankle or worse pissing Earle off. Earle finally held out a short white pleated skirt for me to put on. He stood nodding his approval as I stepped into it zipping it into place over my hips. "Yeah, that'll do," he decreed sneering before grasping my leash and pulling down. I followed the leash to my knees and hands as Earle hauled me out the door and back down the hallway. I scrambled along behind with difficulty choking as Earle strode into the front room.

The only thing that seemed to have changed was presence a third man in the room, a short fat man standing in the door way. His look of shock at seeing me dragged into the room on my hands and knees on a leash turned quickly to lust. The other two were ignoring him still drinking beer and still watching a porno where some old guy was slapping a young woman around making her beg for him to fuck her.

As Earle pulled me into the room before them their attention focussed on me and my transformation. I cringed with growing unease as I watched Daddy lick his lips hungrily. Smacking his lips wetly he cried out, "My my my Earle what ever have got there boy?" The lust in his eyes stole away my recent belief that there was a possible end to this after pleasing Earle. I could feel a numbness creeping up my body as the old mans look foretold a future of unspeakable depravity. 

"Stand the bitch up Earle," he drawled almost dream like. With difficulty I found my feet in the towering heels as Earle held me up by the collar. Daddy appraised me like meat on a hook. "Spin for Daddy missy," he murmured obsession clouding his eyes.

Earle held me upright by my leash as I spun first one way then the next. Each spin had my pleated skirt flare out to show Daddy my pretty strawberry panties. Rubbing himself Daddy groaned, "Yeah that's what Daddy wants." Huffing, shifting his weight Daddy beckoned to Earle, "Bring Daddy's little girl over here boy, let me have look see up close and personal."

Dutifully Earle dragged me before the old man. My skin crawled as he ran his coarse hands up and down my bare thighs. Each stroke going higher until slipping beneath my skirt. "Uhm-uhm, nice and smooth just how Daddy likes his little girls to be," the old geezer crooned to his audience of two. I flinched involuntarily shivering noticeably as his exploring hands brushed against the moist crotch of my cotton panties. In a flash his finger nails dug deeply into my soft inner thigh make me squeak while he growled, "What's the matter girlie?" And he squeezed harshly to impress upon me his displeasure.

"Nah-nah-nah-thing," I simpered terrified of the anger in Daddy's eyes.

"Don't you like Daddy touchin' ya?" He inquired in a menacing tone.

"Yye-ye-yesss Daddy," I continued simpering, "I do like you touching me." Sniffling as tears streamed down my cheeks.

Ignoring my tears and whimper of relief when he released his grip. Daddy wedged his hand up into the crotch of my panties turning it to force me to spread my thighs for him. I bit my lip to stifle a cry of fear as his fingers brushed over the damp crotch of my girlie panties. "Say what's this?" Daddy called out as his fingers kneaded my still very tender sissy clit through the wet cotton. Giving Earle a quizzical look he announced loudly, "Seems our little gurl here has done wet herself!" 

Earle smirked, "Bitch is just all hot and horny for you Daddy. Aren't you gurl?" He added giving the leash a nasty tug.

Choking, my sight blurring I muttered feebly, "Yes Sir."

"Yes sir what?" Earle snarled menacingly into ear pulling the leash higher choking me.

Barely audible I sputtered, "I'm hot and horny for Daddiiieeeeee!"

My body was trembling and quivering uncontrollably and I would fallen had Earle not kept me suspended before the old man. Continuing to caress my moist sissy clit Daddy lifted the hem of my skirt to have a peek beneath. He giggled, "Ooooh my and lookie at those pretty little panties. Come here Darryl. Ed. Get an eye full of what a fine little ass Missy here has for us!' 

Darryl, the Knob, the bastard that had brought me to this place sauntered over with a dismissive air of a true asshole. Griping the back of my skirt he pulled it up roughly to expose my pantied bottom. "Oh yeah Paw," he chortled close to the back of my head making my eyes widen with fear, "it's gonna be real fun bustin' in this bit of sweetness." With that he landed a stinging open handed swat to my ass that made me squeak and lurch forward almost tumbling into Daddy's lap.

"Here now," Daddy hollered, "Don't go markin' up that pretty little bottom before I'm done with it son!" Stopping Darryl from smacking me again.

Ed the short fat new comer reached out to tentatively brush his fingers over my panties as if assuring himself that I was real. Looking at Daddy dazed he drawled "How much to fuck her brother?" I bit off a whimper of fear pulling away from the lechers pawing fingers.

Pulling me into his lap Daddy folded his arms about in a mock protective manner. "There, there," he murmured stroking my hair holding me close as I broke down and sobbed on his shoulder. "Don't you worry none Missy Daddy'll make sure you get treated real fine." Wanting to believe him I let the sobs of despair wrack my body.

The old man pet me murmuring little warm nothings until I settled down. When I had fallen onto him my short skirt had lifted so that only my pantied bottom rested in Daddy's lap. As the fits of crying eased beneath his caresses and meaningless words I became aware of the hardness of his erection poking into my backside. As I settled Daddy shifted my weight so that my soft bottom rested against his erection. "Hmmm," he hummed in my ear, "now doesn't that feel nice."

Rocking his hips gently Daddy's hardness pressed eagerly against my bottom. Whispering in my ear Daddy asked, "You a virgin Missy?" I froze. Chuckling to himself Daddy winked at Earle, Ed and Darryl saying, "Time for my little girl here to become a woman boys." I thought to fight but before I could muster the nerve Earle had me out of Daddy's lap and dangling by my leash as the old man struggled to his feet. 

Taking my leash and wrapping it around his big meaty palm Daddy surveyed the front room pausing momentarily to watch the porn before arching his eyebrows suggestively at the other three crowing, "I think Missy here and me best have ourselves a little privacy!" And with a gusty laugh he pulled up on the leash so I had to stand on my tip toes and scamper gasping after him as he dragged me back to one of the filthy, cluttered bedrooms.

Once inside he slammed the door shut. Spinning around to get his bearings I was forced to twirl around with him to keep from choking badly. "Yeah this'll do just fine." Daddy announced with an authoritative air pulling my face close to his. He stunk of beer and unwashed body. "Now just to make one thing perfectly clear missy," Daddy snarled in my face spraying me with his spit. Daddy smiled when he saw the look of abject terror drain the colour from my cheeks. "Yeah you gonna be good for Daddy ain't you girlie?" Daddy asked me.




The Farm Ch. 02



Trembling, fighting back tears I whispered meekly, "Yes Daddy." 

"Oh yeah," Daddy growled and with a flip of his wrist sent crashing onto the bed. I bounced off the dirty mattress and before I landed Daddy had me by the ankle in a harsh grip. Again twisting his wrist he flipped effortlessly onto my stomach. Confused and slightly winded I barely yelped when one of his coarse meaty hands grabbed the waist of my skirt and pulled me back onto my knees. 

With my face pressed into the filthy mattress Daddy flipped up my skirt before unceremoniously ripping the backside out of my little strawberry panties. With a wail of despair I tried futilely to crawl away. Laughing meanly at my weak attempt Daddy hollered, "Settle down bitch before you tempt me to hurt you good!" The sheer blunt reality of my situation stopped me cold. I squealed like a little girl as his hard fingers griped my poor creamy butt cheeks pulling me back further and spreading. I heard the old bastard hork and spit before feeling the hot wetness dribble into my crack. 

Daddy spat again before rubbing the spittle over and around my tight anus. Spitting again as I panted with fear Daddy informed me, "That's a lovely little pink rosebud you got there for Daddy darlin'." My squawk of shock was absorbed by the filthy mattress as Daddy's thumb pressed against my rosebud hole. I groaned then bit the mattress as his thumb entered me. With me impaled on his thumb Daddy dropped his overalls. His cock was already rigid with his rutting lust. 

Spitting into his hand Daddy stroked his massive looking member while contemplating his thumb buried in my ass. Spitting onto it he began working his thumb wetly in and out of my ass humming, "Oooh yeah that's a mighty fine gurlie pussy you got for a sissy boi Missy!" 

Daddy spat into his hand again as my world spun out of body. God this had to be happening to some else I prayed with despair. "Oh please let be happening to some one else," I sobbed into the filthy mattress as Daddy's thumb slipped from my gurlie boi pussy as he pressed forward with his erection. Precum dribbled from the tip freely as Daddy stroked his cock back and forth between my cheeks. 

Soon I was crying out, "No please Daddy, please don't Daddy," as Daddy pressed the large knob of his rigid manhood against the rosebud of my virgin sissy boi pussy. Gripping my hips to hold my thrashing body still Daddy pushed relentlessly forward with his hips. "Oh god noooooo," I screamed as the old bastard forced himself upon me. Daddy's grunts of effort turned into a long drawn out sigh as his cock burst open my virgin ass. 

"Yeah," Daddy hollered as his weight sank onto me forcing his manhood deep inside me taking my breath away as I moaned defeated into the mattress. Buried deeply in my gurlie pussy Daddy groaned, "Oh yeah baby that's good," and he began rocking his hips back and for fucking me. 

I could feel the entire length of him as Daddy rode me. Soon he had me panting "Ah! Ah! Ah!", into the mattress as the tempo of his assault picked up. Daddy used his grip on my hips to slap my ass back loudly against his body. With a long growl of power Daddy held my ass firmly against his groin as I felt his cock pulse knowing he was filling my sissy boi pussy full of his spunk. Daddy's body jerked a few times but still he held me tightly impaled on his cock.

"Hmm, hmmm, hmmm," he hummed to himself as his cock slipped wetly from my ass and he settled himself on the edge of the bed. "Oh I could get used that," Daddy groaned absently pawing at the shredded panty still covering my ass. As Daddy's cum oozed from my poor sissy hole I forlornly raised myself to my hands and knees with the intention of crawling off the bed. I didn't even yelp with surprise when Daddy's hand closed about my ankle.

"Now where do you think you're goin' missy," he inquired snickering to himself, "Daddy's just gettin' started with you honey!" 

Resignedly I murmured quietly, "I'm not going anywhere Daddy."

The old man eyed me suspiciously still holding onto my ankle possessively until I turned to give him a pleading look. With a snort of derision the old bastard got to his feet picking up a belt from the floor snarling at me, "Too fucking right your not going anywhere bitch!" 

As I pleaded for him not to, promising to be good. Promising to do what he wanted, hell, promising anything. But Daddy wasn't listening as he used the belt to tie my hands behind my back. I whimpered, sobbed and pleaded for him to let me go until griping my hair he pulled my face harshly into his. 

"No. Fucking. Way." Daddy then spat right in my face. I was utterly stunned as the dribble of his spittle tracked down my forehead. 

Out of no where Daddy's big meaty palm slapped me sending me sprawling across the bed. With a grunt I bounced and fell off heavily onto the floor. Winded I flopped around until Daddy had me once more by the hair pulling me to my feet. Growling with rage Daddy held me close staring into my eyes with cruel viciousness. 

He seemed to enjoy the sheer terror he was inflicting on me. With a deep breath he released my hair and turned away. I tottered unsteadily on the heels snivelling grateful as He opened the door hollering, "Hey boys get down here." Then in a flash he spun and slapped me again. With a howl of pain I was sent flying over the bed. 

With my hands tied behind me I had no way to cushion my landing and crashed heavily onto the floor again. As I struggled for breath I could only squeal plaintively as Daddy hauled me up by the hair to my knees. I could see the other three men crowding in at the door and squealed with fright at their sex hungry eager looks. 

My squeals were cut short when Daddy stuffed his half erect meat roughly into my mouth. Holding my hair with both hands the fat old prick slapped his gut into my forehead as he fucked my mouth with his growing manhood. I could the other three laughing and encouraging Daddy to use me. 

As Daddy's cock hardened he forced it deeper into my throat growling with pleasure as I gagged on his cock. "Yeah Daddy fuck that bitches face!" I heard as Daddy forced his monster into my throat. 

Just when I thought I would puke he pulled his erection from between my lips and using my hair threw me bodily over the edge of the bed. The other three men crowded around jostling for a view as unceremoniously Daddy spread my ass cheeks and directed his cock at my poor puckered sissy hole. 

With my sissy pussy still oozing Daddy's cum his big cock slipped easily inside me. Dazed and still struggling for breath I could only moan deep in my throat as Daddy let his weight drive his throbbing erection deeply into my ass. Snarling viciously into my ear Daddy asked, "Who's my little sissy cunt now?"

Mewing terrified I cried, "I'm your sissy cunt, Daddiiiieeee!"

"Hear that boys? Daddy's got a sissy cunt to fuck all he wants!" He chortled harshly flexing his muscles making me grunt in response to his cock deep in my sissy cunt. "Don't I Missy?"

"Yessssss Daddieeeeee!!" I wailed breathlessly as he drove his meat in hard again his body slapping onto mine. 

The other three men pawed and pushed at each other eager to be next.

"Who wants Daddy to fuck her hard?" He continued to force me to humiliate myself as he held himself so that just the tip of his large cock penetrated my pulsing sissy's cunt.

"I do Daddiiieeee," I squeaked, "I want Daddy to fuck my pussy hard!"

I was surprised I could still feel shame as the trio around the bed laughed and encouraged Daddy to fuck the bitch hard. Daddy didn't disappoint them. Soon the old bastard was slamming his body into mine driving his cock into my boi pussy until he grind his pubes against my soft ass cheeks. Daddy fucked me senseless before again pulling back until just the knob of his cock was in my humming pussy. 

Catching his breath Daddy reached out to grasp my head by the hair. Pulling back until I was staring painfully up at the other three he inquired graciously, "Which of these fine gentlemen would my little sissy cunt like to be next?"

When I only whimpered staring dully at the three eager faces Daddy laughed crying out, "What's the matter gurlie can't decide?" And not waiting for an answer he continued, "Maybe you boys should show missy here what your offerin'?"

Daddy laughed loudly as the three scrambled to get their dicks out. "See anything you like Missy?" He snickered meanly as he slowly pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside me. I groaned staring at the three cocks bobbing before as Daddy holding my hair let out a whoop of joy and started pounding my boi pussy again.

By the time he had his orgasm my body was numb. I barely noticed when he finished and got off me. 

Standing over me he addressed the other three expansively with, "Gee I hope I didn't ruin the bitch for the rest of you!" Laughing uproariously by the end. 

Slapping me on the ass he asked, "Anyone want sloppy seconds?" Laughing loudly as the other three fought to be next. 

Daddy's voice thundered above the melee, "Now boys best let our guest have some." As the other two protested loudly the fat squat new comer Ed pushed forward. His erect cock barely showed from beneath his fat hairy belly. "Best let our sissy here suck on that first Ed," Daddy drawled, "let her know what she's in for.'

Hauling on a fist full of hair Ed pulled my face into his smelly groin. It was surprising how big his cock was hidden beneath his fat gut. His sweaty fat encased my face as he stuffed his member into my mouth. To the side I could here Daddy placating his boys, "Bitch ain't goin' no where boys. Plenty of pussy here for all of us."



The Farm Ch. 02



CHAPTER 2: 
WARM UP



Robert Spilman, a rich businessman on the up-and-up, has been kidnapped and awakens after extensive feminisation surgery in a plain white room. A woman, wearing nothing but black latex, enters his room and tells him he has been transformed into a sex toy, fit only to pleasure the rich and super-rich who frequent the decadent pleasure palace known as the Fun Farm. 

After this brief introduction – and whilst still pondering his desperate plight (stopping only to try on a schoolgirl outfit he finds in his new wardrobe) – Robert, now known as Georgie Suxcock, is shocked to find a second person entering her room...





The guy was as tall as I was, just over six foot, but broader than I ever had been despite all my muscle training. The sleeves of his tight tee bulged when he swung his arms. 

He came a few steps into the room and stopped, hands on his hips. He gave me an appraising look and chewed his gum. 

'You sure know how to dress like a slut,' he drawled. 'And after watching you on the cam' – he nodded to the CCTV nodule on the ceiling – 'I know you are one horny little bitch.' He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. I blushed and looked at the floor. 'What I wanna know is,' he continued, 'do you live up to your name?'

'My name?' 

My voice still sounded feminine to my ears – higher pitched, and even the way I stressed certain words felt different, as though I had been coached subconsciously – but I could hear the undercurrent of fear in my voice still. And I knew that this guy – whoever the fuck he was – could hear it too. What was this place? What was happening to me?

'Georgie sucks cock,' he said. 

I knew what was going to happen, recalled what that woman had said – "you will service our clients, suck on their warm cocks until they spunk inside of you" – and I had dreaded finding out why I had been given that specific name. 

'Please,' I pleaded, and I could feel my eyes prickling again, feel a heat passing down my back as I thought of being forced to do what was the last thing on Earth that I wanted to do. 'Please, let me go.'

This man, he put on a sympathetic face – but it was deliberately phoney. He was mocking me. 

For all the fire I felt inside of me, for all the strength I knew that I used to have and imagined that I still had at least in some small degree, I couldn't fight him. I was just too shocked. Too much was happening for me to be able to deal with it. The changes to my body... I didn't feel like me. I didn't feel like a guy. How could I, when I saw that big-titted hottie staring back out the mirror?

'Come over here,' he said. 'Stand in front of me.'

I swallowed, dreading this. I got up off the bed, trying to pull down the tiny miniskirt, trying to hide the small bulge of my penis – feebly attempting to hide my shame and embarrassment as I stepped forward gingerly in the heeled boots. They forced my walk into a light swinging strut; I could feel my ass and breasts bobbing from side to side. 

I stopped about a step in front of him, tried defiantly to look into his eyes but found I couldn't. There wasn't enough space between us for me to look straight down at the floor, so all I saw were the firm plates of his pectorals, the regimented ripples of his abs. 

'You are one hot fuck,' he told me. 'There are plenty of girls in here – well, plenty of girls like you, packing meat – that look as good as you do. But none, I think, that look much better.' I saw him shrug. 'Well... maybe one or two.'

He coughed. 'Look at me.' I couldn't; my head felt so heavy. 'Look at me.'

I pulled my head up and stared, damp eyed, into his green eyes. 

'My name is Dirk Shattler. I'm a trainer, here at the Farm. You and me, we're going to spend a few days training together. You're going to be taught how to pleasure a man. Ah-ah!' he warned, when I tried to protest. 'You are going to be taught. In time, maybe you'll learn to like it.' He grinned. 'Most of you feminised guys do – even the ones who are bona fide men.' So! The woman hasn't been telling the truth...

'First things first,' he said, interrupting my thoughts, 'you have to learn to live up to your name. Many of the girls here have a special talent. Yours is sucking cock.' He smiled, warmly. 'Let's get to it.'

I was told to get down on my knees, placing them on the thick carpet pile. 

'Your carpet is more luxurious than that of the other girls,' he told me. 'That's because you'll be spending a lot of time kneeling.'

His crotch faced me; I could see the bulge of his... of his penis, behind the camouflage material of his pants. I started to feel the heat of fear again on my back, and my eyes were getting wetter.

'Unbutton my jeans and unzip my fly.'

My fingers were trembling as I reached up – but I stopped just inches away from him and asked,

'What happens if I refuse? If I won't do this, won't follow through with what you all seem to want me to do?'

He chuckled. 'You don't seem to understand. You don't have a choice, not any more. You are our property – that means we can do with you what we like. If you refuse? Ha, well: we'll make your life hell. There are men – women, I mean – who have refused. They're suspended in stirrups from the ceiling in our extensive basement: constantly blindfolded, wearing the most luxurious latex or leather bondage gear. 

'Their clits – the heads of their penises – are in a state of constant stimulation. Sounds nice, huh? But they're our pick up and go models – our equivalent of a quick snack. Any guest of the Farm, from minor devotee to major client, has access to the pick and go's. They're filled up with cum at both ends, they do nothing except deepthroat cock and get slammed in their bubble butts. 

'They don't go out, don't get to roam or walk around. They don't get heard, they don't get treats. They are the next step up from having a wank: throwaway, cum-filled toys. The last of the lot. 

'You don't want that, do you? You're prime meat. How old are you? Thirty? Thirty-five? I thought so. You have about ten good years ahead of you. Do you want to spend them in the dark, getting your butt slammed? Not even eating properly, or being able to pee when you want to?' He shook his head, as though in a cloud of great despair. He seemed a very two-dimensional, almost cartoonish figure – but two of his words cut me to the bone more than the vivid descriptions of what fate lay in store for me should I find the courage to resist. 

Ten years.

That was how long they expected me to... to work in this place. 

Ten years.

I had built up my business and turned it into a profit-making money-printing machine in that time. In ten years I had imagined I would be close to retiring – selling up shares and realising my annuities. 

Ten years.

This wasn't a pleasure palace, it was a prison – and for whatever crime my competitor thought I had committed, this was my penal sentence. 

I looked up into Dirk's green eyes, and I realised in that moment that I had no choice. 

My hope wasn't gone. I still fully believed that I would escape the Farm. But for now, I knew that I must play along; the opportunity will come, I told myself, but you need to be able to move to grab it when it does.

My fingers still trembled as I reached up to his bulge, stiffly unbuttoned his jeans and opened the zip.

I pulled the wings of the fly open, baring his tight white boxer shorts underneath. I could see his cock twitch, smell the musk of his man scent. 

'Pull out my cock, there's a good girl.'

Scared – and hating myself every second – I pulled the waistband of his boxers towards me and reached inside to fish out his cock. 

My god, it was enormous!

It was the biggest thing I had ever seen!

About three inches in diameter, it was semi-hard by the time I had stopped handling it and let it droop down in front of him; between us.

'How—' I started, barely able to phrase the question. 'How big is that thing?'

I looked up warily and saw him grinning. 'It won't get any wider, but... fourteen inches when I'm rock hard.'

'Wha—?' 

Fourteen inches!!

'It's too big,' I said, 'it's too big.' I was starting to panic. Maybe I couldn't go through with this. Maybe I would end up in the basement, suspended in stirrups from the ceiling, nothing but a lump of meat to be fucked and fucked by strangers—

'Relax, relax,' he told me, soothingly. His voice was calm, and I started to breath more easily, my panic subsiding.

'You don't have to take it all. This will be the biggest cock you'll ever see, I think. If you can pleasure me – if you can learn to accept such a big dick in your mouth – then you will be able to pleasure anybody. Do you understand?'

I nodded, feeling my hooped earrings bob. I was still painfully aware that I was in a slutty skimpy schoolgirl outfit; that I was wearing pigtails; that my breasts were bursting out of the white blouse and that my own dick – which was smaller, and much smaller than I remembered it being – was soft and limp behind the very short mini skirt.

'Now today, you will use your mouth only on the head of the penis – the tip. You'll need to touch the shaft, hold it with your hands.'

My fingers wouldn't go all the way around his shaft, but I picked it up anyways as best I could. 

I tried fitting the whole thing into my mouth right away.

'Gently. Gently. Don't get carried away. Do you like your blowjobs being rushed? Take your time, savour the taste, learn to enjoy the shapes and textures...'

My stomach was twisting up in knots, my heart hammering in my chest – as I stuck out my tongue and flicked it against the tip of his penis. I started lapping at it, wetting it with my saliva, kissing it – doing the things that I had always wanted women to do to my cock (only some had never known enough or could never be told). 

I accidentally made a few slurping noises, and he encouraged me to make more sounds: 'That's it, that's it: you've got to sound like you love this cock – that you want it, deep inside of you.'

As I moaned and gasped, slurping on this huge cock, sliding both hands up and down his growing shaft, I began to lose sense of what it was that I was doing. I started to forget that I was a guy – I was a guy – and I was sucking on this big, muscular man's cock. I was lapping at it and nuzzling it like a slut.

'Now see if you can get the head in your mouth.'

I parted my full lips and slid them over the head of his dick. It felt tight, but I could do it. 

'Good girl!' he exclaimed. 'Good girl, Georgie!'

I blushed, feeling strangely proud of his praise. I knew that there weren't many people who would have been able to suck on that dick like I was.

'Oh fuck, you're doing a great job.'

I looked up at him, my lips still wrapped around his cock, bobbing on the head of his penis. His face was flushed, his breathing a little ragged. He had excellent control.

'Now... Now move in and out with your lips, massage my dick like your mouth's a pussy and I'm plunging the tip of my dick into you. And use your hands... to stroke me up and down the length of my shaft. Try... try to... keep in similar motion...'

I did what he said, feeling the tight skin slide over the thick muscles of his cock with my hands, seeing my fingers with their long fake nails wrapped about his manhood. 

The head of his cock felt wet and hot and I began to taste a saltiness – sweat or...

Precum!

I had never tasted it before this morning, and when I identified it I nearly withdrew out of shock and fear.

What was I doing?

'Don't stop!' he said, placing a hand on the back of my head and guiding me back into the bobbing rhythm I had momentarily lapsed out of. 'Keep it up. Keep it up!'

I felt the prickling at my eyes again, and couldn't help but start to cry as I knelt before this man in my slutty schoolgirl outfit, rubbing his cock with my mouth and hands, tasting his precum.

He moaned, and his hand went rigid on the back of my head. I tensed, feeling his cock start to shake in my mouth. I squeezed uncontrollably with my hands—and spluttered as he began shooting his load straight into me. 

His cum was hot and thick and there was a lot of it. It filled my mouth, trickling down my throat and up into my nose. I pulled back, gasping for air, and he continued to shoot, right over my face and onto my huge tits. 

I managed two breaths before he pulled me forward again and shot another load straight into me. 

I started coughing, and he relaxed his grip on the back of my head. 

He breathed a long, deep sigh. 

'That was good,' he said. 'Good start. Now clean my cock, you sexy fuck.'

I felt demeaned and ashamed. He was treating me like a filthy whore; like a cheap woman. But although I looked like one of the hottest women on the planet I wasn't a woman – I was still a guy. And what he had done to me was a violation.

'I don't want to,' I said, in my girly voice.

He sniggered. 'Don't want to? Maybe I should call the manager, see what else she can suggest we use you for, hm? You want some basement time?'

'No! No... no, anything but that! I— I'll do it.'

'Good girl, Georgie.'

I swallowed hard – partly out of fear, partly to clear away the rest of the semen clogging up my mouth – and started licking up the cum from his cock. It was mostly on the head, as the rest had gone inside me. I could feel it, a heavy lump in my stomach.

I lapped at his cock until he told me to stop; he had started to soften, and told me that I had done a good job. I did as I was told, gently placing him back inside his boxers and zipping and buttoning up his jeans.

'Now,' he said, stepping back from me. 'You're going to have to get changed. We have half an hour or so until lunch time, and you need to look your best for the other girls in the refectory. You are my trainee, I need you to make me look good.' He flashed me a cartoon grin. 'I want you in something casual, yet slutty. Something that says "I'm a whore" but also something you could wear out in town on a sunny afternoon. Oh,' he added, as an afterthought: 'And heels. High heels. Pink ones, if there are some.' Somehow, I knew there would be.

'I'll be outside, knock on the door when you're ready and I'll walk you to lunch.'

He winked, turned about, and left the room.

I felt drained; dazed and confused. What had just happened to me? What had I just done?

I told myself that I didn't have a choice: I was doing what I had to do in order to survive.

There was little time to start chiding or reassuring myself, little time to think; I had only a short while to get ready.

I stripped, showered in the combo stall, and towelled myself dry. I still couldn't believe the size of my tits. 

There was a bikini set in the drawer; bright colours. I slipped into it, tucking my dick so that it wouldn't bulge too much, then pulled on a new pair of denim hotpants, these ones bleached white. 

I found the pair of high gloss pink high heels in the wardrobe; they were five inches high, and I was a bit wobbly in them. There was an accessories drawer in the wardrobe, and I added bracelets and rings, a simple long necklace, and stood back to look at myself in the mirror.

Sexy, I thought. A stunning, blonde, big-breasted skinny surfer-type girl.

If I were a guy, I would fuck me, I thought to myself – and felt my dick stir a little in my crotch. 

Just getting turned on seeing such a hot chick, I told myself. Nothing to worry about.

I rapped my knuckles on the door and waited for Dirk to open it, certain that he would be impressed and hoping that my outfit would please him.



The Farm Ch. 02



Chapter 02: Conformation

"I see I've done it at last." Double chins jiggled as Mrs. Featherwink chuckled and gave herself a congratulatory slap on the leg.

"I'm prepared to take the next step." Gordy lifted his hand to silence Mrs. F. "One that I will finance."

"Please, let me treat you this time." Her smile seemed genuine, but Gordy knew the bill would reflect this treat. "Give me your requirements. A little list. Something to work from. I'll do the rest."

"Oh, Mrs. Featherwink, you know me so well. Book the observation room. March, Miss Liz will do best. Halden if needed. No, Halden at the ready. I want you there, of course. And find me a companion for the booth. Not too young." Mrs. Featherwink's eye could not discern the delineation between what Gordy needed and boys. There was something soft around the navel of a boy that repulsed Gordy. The lack of muscle tone. A thing too soft. "Make the room bare and clean. A solid table. The usual equipment. I arrive at noon." Gordy rose and lifted the fat hand to his lips while pressing gold into her palm with the other.

He fairly ran down the wet street. The fog was full on. Gordy raised his cane to hail a cab. The horse's steamy breath mixed with the fog. Giving the name of a club not far from his own to the driver, he settled back and sighed. He let his hand fall into his lap and gave his cock a few strokes. But only a few. He could, he would wait for tomorrow. Back to where the lamps flickered in the fog. A quick walk to his own club. A brandy by the fire and clean sheets scented with lemon. A mind set on fulfillment and satisfaction let sleep in quickly.

By midmorning Gordy was bathed and dressed. His step was light as he descended the stairs and found his favorite chair. He suppressed the urge to whistle. Coffee at his elbow. A newspaper. Polite conversation with an old friend of his father's. "Yes, the farm was doing well. The pulse beating in his neck. Yes, his missed the old man most dreadfully. Fresh skin stretched tight over the ribs. Yes, he was returning to the estate soon. The blue eyes swimming with tears. No, so sorry, he couldn't join him for luncheon. Smooth skin. Yes, more coffee and toast and jam, quince this time. The jut of a hip bone. Yes, the fog was dreadful. Lack of adequate nourishment was its own aphrodisiac. Back to his room to gather up his coat. No, don't call a cab. Trusting eyes full of pain and hope. No, he wouldn't catch his death in the fog. The clink of the chain. Yes, his hat. Please fetch it. Nothing like a quick walk to calm desires.

Gordy slipped in at the yellow door and nodded at Halden. He handed him his hat and coat. Mrs. Featherwink stood as he entered the red room. She clasped his hand in both of hers.

"I have the room ready. I'm sure you'll like what we've done. Come, let's take a little look to see if there are any changes you might like."

Up the back stairs and down a dim corridor to two doors at the far end. Gordy knew the way well. He pushed open the door to the observation room. Small, dim with a worn leather wing chair set before a large window. Brandy and a glass on the side table. A few pillows on the floor. A speaking tube hung on the table. On the back wall a small cabinet with colored glass jars of oils and ointments and a slender wand with a bulbous head on a side table. Gordy sank into the chair and scanned the adjoining room. It was good. Not just right, but easily fixed. Mrs. Featherwink waited at the door clasping her hands in anticipation. 

"Is this what you require?" She rocked back and forth on her tinny feet. "I have two boys for you to choose between." After a sharp glance from Gordy, "Both, if you like."

"Not boys. Men, young men, Mrs. Featherwink. Don't destroy it now with boys."

"Yes, young men. I'll have them brought up."

"Not yet, Mrs. F. I want to make a few changes next door. Don't frown. You've done quite well. Call up March to move a few things."

"Sit back and use the speaking tube. March will make it just right."

March followed directions well. The tub was moved back a bit. The low table covered with a white sheet to hide the ropes at the corners pushed against a wall. The room was bare otherwise. The wood floor scrubbed clean. The pictures removed from the walls. The bed taken down and carried out. A few hooks and eye blots protruded from the heavy ceiling beam. Gordy left the observation room and paced the room. His window on his side was a mirror on this. It was going to be a long day. He had dinner plans and theater for later, but that was hours away.

"Dear Mrs. F. I'll retire to my room. Please bring in my selections and await my instructions. And please tell me they've been cleaned."

Settled in the leather chair, Gordy poured a small brandy and waited. The young men were ushered into the clean room by March. Each had some fine points. Each freshly shaved and smooth. Slim and well made. Gordy instructed them to turn and bend. They were brought to the mirror so he could inspect their teeth. They stepped back and stroked each other to full erection with practiced hands and more than a little hint of familiarity. Hands moving over buttocks and chests. They kissed. A nipple pinched. Tongues touched. An involuntary thrusting of the ass. Gordy called for the light-boned one that kept sneaking fearful looks at the table. 

"Blindfold the one on my right and bring him in. Oh, Mrs. Featherwink, could I trouble you for some lengths of rope."

Blindfolded, the light-boned man stood at the side of the room his head down waiting for Gordy's instructions. Gordy was pleased to see he still maintained his erection. He walked up behind him and pulled his arms back and up twisting cruelly, securing them at the wrist and elbow, turned so the bound wrists rested between the shoulder blades. There would be no need for arms today and no need for plied gentleness. This one knew what he was there for. Gordy kicked a pillow out of the way and forced him to his knees. Gordy looked at his handy work. Just a few things from the cabinet and instructions for the madam. All was ready.

As instructed, the young man was hauled up from the cell still in manacles and long chain, a hood over his head. He tried to impede his progress by digging his heels into the floor. He struggled in stronger arms. March and Halden held him by the biceps directly in front of the mirror where Gordy waited in his chair. The fear was palpable. Gordy's penis twitched in his trousers. This time. This was the right one this time. Then he saw his handkerchief balled in the young man's fist. Gordy's penis pushed against his small clothes. It was a very good sign. He had set the hook firmly.

"Remove the hood." In the clean room his voice rasped through the tube. Halden yanked the hood off and dropped it on the floor. Black hair fell across the closed eyes. They'd open soon enough. Steaming water carried bucket by bucket filled the tub. Halden looped the chain over a hook in the beam and using his knife began cutting away the filthy shirt. As firm and fine a chest as Gordy remembered. And the bruises, purple and black, some fading to green and yellow. Knuckle marks and the long bruise left by a baton. A thin white scare ran the length of the ribs. The muscles on the young man flexed and twitched as he fought his chain. The fear rolled off his body. His lips parted and pulled back in panic, showing strong, white teeth. Steam rose from the tubs. Halden's knife flashed as he cut through the waistband of the worn trousers. The fabric all but fell apart when Halden pulled at the seams. The legs were as strong and fine as Gordy had assessed in the cell. The knees scraped and bruised. It added so much to his beauty. Strong thighs with little hair. The fight was on. The prize struggled in dead earnest now. He pulled at the chain above his head. His scream was harsh and strained. He kicked and twisted. He held the handkerchief even more tightly, knuckles white. He twisted on his chain and turned his ass to the mirror. Round and firm as an apple. Small enough to cover with one of Gordy's hands. His hips were narrow. His ribcage compact. He twisted again, showing his flaccid penis. His fear caused his testicles to pull up. Gordy jerked forward in the chair. His penis. Not hooded. He'd been circumcised. What whores trick was this? Sweat trickled down the prize's sides and chest. He kicked at Halden then March again and again. He gasped with the exertion. They grasped his thighs and held him still.

"To me, Mrs. F." The old woman ran to the observation room.

"My Lord," she said in feigned ignorance. "What is your trouble?"

"What's that?" Gordy pointed. "You brought me a, a, a what?"

" I brought you something special. Something beyond the pedestrian. Compare." She pulled the small-boned youth to the viewing window and lifted his now flaccid penis. "The coloring is inferior. The sensitivity impeded by the foreskin. And the aspect of cleanliness and freshness is beyond count." She picked up the uncut member between her thumb and index finger. "There isn't the beauty here, the implied readiness, the accessibility. The semblance of equality to the master removed. This, this isn't what you want." She dropped the offensive object. "Lord Downcliff, before you is the new rage in Paris, Moscow, and Venice. I assure you this cut is an especial soon to be so in demand that few will afford on a Christian man."

Gordy looked at his prize's penis and at that of small-boned creature. "I'll consider it."

Mrs. Featherwink bobbed and fled the observation room and quickly reappeared in the clean room. 

He fought hard as he was pulled to the hot bath. March held his legs high; Halden grasped him under the arms. The Prize arched his back in a desperate attempt to avoid the water and break free. The cords in his neck stood out. He turned his head in an attempt to bite the nearest arm. And with a splash he was in. March lifted his ankles to ensure he didn't find purchase and escape the tub and Halden wrapped the chain securely to the tub handle. Miss Liz soaped and scrubbed him. His head slipped beneath the water. He sputtered to the surface. 

The scene before Gordy wasn't the spectacle he desired. It was a brawl. He reached for the speaking tube. "Calm him, Mrs. F."

Mrs. Featherwink pulled a brown bottle from her starched apron pocket. Laudanum. A few drops often eased the way for many a reluctant employee. Gordy watched as a few drops were pushed past the clenched teeth. The change was swift; the shadow of a cloud passing over a bright lake. The slow dulling of the reflective surface as the light slowly faded. And so it was with the prize. The tension fell from his limbs, his breathing slowed, the frighten horse look left his eyes, his torso sagged, his struggles became less coordinated and more feeble. Drugged his fight was beautiful. Here was the ballet Gordy desired. Mrs. Featherwink knew where the delicate balance lay.

Gordy readied himself to enjoy the next steps in the cleaning. He pulled his companion to the foot of the leather chair and forced him to his knees and bent him from the waist. A pillow from the floor covered the bound arms. The hands looked a little blue, but no real danger here. Gordy placed his legs on his footstool and shifted a bit in his seat to find the most comfortable spot. He poured another small brandy, took a sip and smiled in satisfaction. He selected a slender wand with a bulbous head from the side table and gave the footstool's ass a few lashes. It trembled with the exertion of maintaining a level back without the aid of his arms. The vibrations moved up Gordy's legs.

March and Halden lifted the prize from the tub and placed his feet on to two low sturdy stools and forced him to squat, bent forward, his chest over his knees, his body a three-quarter view from Gordy's viewing room. His ankles secured on each oak stool with cuffs and rough hemp rope. Mrs. Featherwink lifted the enema bag from table and pressed it to her cheek to judge the temperature, and satisfied, ran the nozzle head up the prize's crack. He tried to push himself into a standing position but Halden, March, and the laudanum did their work to force him into place. His muscles strained. A guttural, animal sound emerged from the back of his throat. A dab of grease and the nozzle head worked slowly passed the clenched anus. The release of the clamp sent the warm sudsy water along the tube and a strong squeeze from Mrs. F. sent it rushing into the prize. He twitched and fought to pivot on the stools. The water continued to flow. Miss Liz held the basin close to the rounded buttocks. Placing a practiced hand on the abdomen, Mrs. Featherwink judged the capacity of the lower intestines. Satisfied, she put a quick kink in the hose. The prize's head fell back, eyes closed in near agony. His shame, fear, and pain washed exquisitely across his face. 

Gordy gave his footstool's ass two quick lashed and moved the bulbous wand around to the mouth, giving it a moment to lubricate it. Back to the anus and the wand bent slightly and the bulb slowly spread the puckered opening. A moment of resistance and it was in. Gordy watched the thin black shaft bend and the bulb worked deeper into the channel. The footstool trembled beneath his legs, and with a grunt the front half collapsed on the floor.

"Kneel between my knees." Gordy unbuttoned his trousers and slid them and his linen small clothes to his ankles. His penis, set free, bobbed against his stomach. He looped his knees over the footstool's shoulders and eased farther down in the soft chair. "Suck my balls." And they were sucked and licked. His penis cried out for attention, but Gordy deigned himself. Not yet. He bent the long wand over the footstool's back and continued to work the head back and forth. He gave the wand a flick causing a long shiver to jiggle the head planted deeply in the ass. The vibration produced frantic sucking. The ass moved forward as the footstool tried to find a bit of friction for his engorged shaft. Gordy pulled the stool back by the hair and smacked the swollen lips. "Try that again and I'll see you strapped to a fuck bench at the Turtle."

The nozzle was removed and the Prize ordered to empty his bowels. He froze. The color rose nicely. He refused. Halden smacked him in the face and still he refused to release the soapy water. Mrs. Featherwink reached around and firmly grasped his penis and gave it a sharp pull. The dirty water gushed into the chamber pot. Again he was filled and emptied until the water ran clear. His torso sagged in the arms of his tormentors. His legs trembled. The muscles in his back clenched. Miss Liz washed his ass and thighs. 

Gordy's footstool moved his mouth as directed to the penis. Gordy continued to send strong vibrations along to the bulb causing it to vibrate against the footstool's prostrate. He loved the prolonged promise of fulfillment. The footstool's increased desired and urgent need caused the back of his throat to open and Gordy felt his swollen head pulled deep into the hot throat. He came. The footstool choked and fought for breath. He pushed against his legs. Gordy prolonged the moment, the feeling of the opening to the esophagus on the glands as his erection died. He slowly withdrew and allowed the footstool to fall to the floor in a faint the wand still wedged in his rectum. It made a pretty picture. Blue lips, blue hands, and a tail.

In the clean room, the Prize's body want limp as he was untied from the stools and carried to the table. His arms were pulled back over his head and secured at the top of the table in hoops of hemp. Ropes looped around his knees and were drawn back and out toward the head of the table until he resembled a frog belly up on a pond bank. The ankles secured. Mrs. Featherwink looked into the mirror and receiving no counter indication began smearing a thick yellow cream on the pubic hair with her fat fingers. Miss Liz used damp warm towels to remove the hair. The ropes were drawn tighter pulling the knees higher and farther out causing the Prize's pelvis to tilt and expose his anus. He groaned at the stretching and the same cream was used on his chest, ass, legs, and underarms until Prize was hairless from the neck down.

Gordy loved this view. So open, ready for anything. Thighs pushed flat. Anus exposed. Balls and penis completely naked to the cool air. The soft skin where the top of the leg met the groin. So sensitive and accessible. "Make him erect." Miss Liz grabbed the member firmly and began messaging the length, giving it a twist as her hand covered the head. Dipping her fingers in violet ointment, Miss Liz continued to massage the growing shaft. She placed her thumbs on the underside of the head and ran the slick balls of her thumbs over the glands. The Prize mouthed a silent protest. The penis rose under Liz's hands. His erection made him look even more vulnerable. It didn't take long before he was pushing into the strokes. "Stop." His pelvis lifted and pushed into the empty air. His stomach muscles rippled. His buttocks clenched with the effort to push up to find nothing. Gordy sighed. "To me, Mrs. F." He looked at the footstool stirring on the floor. "Clean me." It struggled awkwardly back to its knees and slid its cheek along Gordy's inner thigh. The tongue darted in and out as he licked the crease in Gordy's upper leg and groin. Mrs. Featherwink entered and watched with a practiced eye as the flicking tongue work its way to the shaft.

"Here's what I want." Gordy's eyes remained on the Prize tied to the table in the next room. "I'll return to collect the merchandise when it's ready." He kicked in agitation at the footstool. "He will know these things, his name is Prize, he was born in a brothel, he was cut for the pleasure of men, his mother sold him, this is his whole life." Mrs. Featherwink nodded. "You will not break his bones. You will not break his teeth, do not over feed him. Educate him to my needs. You will break him to service."

"I understand. Were things to your satisfaction?"

"I managed. Not much endurance with this one." Gordy pushed his companion away and pulled his trousers and small clothes back in place.

"He's my niece's boy. I'd hoped he'd do better."

"One could hope." Gordy extended his hand and confirmed his order. "Send me word when he is trained and ready for me." Gordy straightened his clothes and removed his wallet from his coat pocket. He passed a number of large bills into Mrs. Featherwink's hand.

The house was beginning to stir. The Prize was untied from the table, his face covered by the black hood. Halden and March wrapped him in the sheet from the table and carried him down the back stair to the cell. The doors they passed remained closed. Only the eyes in the oil paintings watched the passage of the shrouded form. The specials waited until Mrs. Featherwink's heavy steps receded from the hall. They trembled in their rooms from the echoes of Prize's screams and moans.



The Farm Ch. 02



*** Two ***



I pulled into the small parking lot a few minutes before six in the morning, still groggy and sipping my first cup of warm sweet coffee. I love coffee. I live on it.

I expected Ramos to be there as he always was, on time and ready; I did not expect the gathering of men, women and children that surged towards the Van I drove.

Spanish and broken English from every direction, hands, large and small, reaching out to touch. 

It embarrassed me; I am not a 'people' person, I don't mix well with crowds.

I recognized Ramos' voice but not the words as those surrounding me shuffled back with wide eyes and very obvious anticipation and concern.

Ramos kept his head bowed, "I am terribly sorry, Senor Jack, I said several times, only the ones I have chosen and only three wives today, no children. They did not listen. I am without the right words to ask you forgiveness. I will send them home."

I didn't have any solution or words ready, "Let's move to the other side of the Van..."

"The interior of that old house is not safe, especially not for children to play in and maybe for no one until we can shore up the walls and ceiling."

"I know that, Senor Jack. They are so very excited for their men to have work; they want very much to be a part of what has begun to happen. They are very spiritual, Senor, they believe this day will be one to remember; the start of a better life."

"Ramos, I have been informed that any accident or injury on the property is my responsibility. I cannot take on the possibility of losing all I have worked for in an insurance claim. I can't do it."

He still did not lift his head or his eyes. "I work for you with no thought of you caring for me should I be stupid and have an accident. It is not your place and I know that."

"The law says it is, Ramos, and I have little choice. Inspectors may come and ask questions; not telling truth will bring problems."

"Por favor, señor, un momento?"

I turned slightly towards the voice and a sturdy middle aged woman bowed her head, then looked into my face.

"I know there are too many. My son did his best to say so. Can I help?"

I was ignored for the moment as Ramos and the woman began what sounded like a heated argument. It was quickly over as the woman nudged Ramos towards me.

"Esta es mi madre, Rosaria ...My mother asked if there is a problem. I told her of the responsible thing." He turned to her, "'clo que es contratista independiente en Inglés?"

She nodded, my son is wise in some ways, in others, not so smart. He speaks of a person who works as an 'independent contractor', 'contratista independiente' they sign a paper to be responsible for paying own taxes and making the employer not responsibility for them. Like truck driving delivering material, he not your responsibility. Would that be good?"

I smiled, "Hello, Ramos' mother, I..."

"I am Rosaria; not real mother to Ramos, more Mother to many who need...mother to Ramos make me too old, not finished looking for man..."

Both Ramos and I turned aside to hide the grins. "I think independent contractor is a good way to go, Rosaria, not mother of Ramos. There are still the children to consider..."

The woman shook her head, culture or not, I saw and heard the exasperation; she thinks I am a dummy.

"Children are cared for by their parents; their parents care for them on all things. Is it not so"

I turned an open face to her, then a small smile, then a hard face. "I want this to work for me and for you, mama Rosaria, it is very important to me that the law and the government does not come looking.

"The land where Ramos works, is my land. The land your people will work, is my land. I do not discuss what happens on my land; it is my concern. Do you understand?"

Ramos and Mama Rosaria talked furiously for a few seconds.

"Patron.. ¿no sería también un patrón "para todos?"

"Padrone... podría no ser también un Padrone a todos?"

I looked from Ramos to Rosaria as they went back and forth. I heard patron and pardon and I am not sure what either means.

Ramos bowed his head to Rosaria and then to me. "Senor, it is hard to tell in English, but Rosaria believes you are destined to be the father of those who work for you on your land and eat your food. It is an old Spanish thing with the people and the land. Perhaps the best way to convince those who wish to work for you, that you control their lives; they will know and accept that you are the Master of all things on your land. It is perhaps not what you wish...?"

"These are things I have not thought about, Ramos. As independent contractors, I think I am not responsible. To be a sort of 'father' or 'patron', to everyone who works or lives on my land, I don't know. What would be wrong about that?"

'Ah, Senor, in the eyes of the people, nothing would be wrong. They would place their trust and belief in you and God, in that order. They would feel at home, I think."

Mama Rosa made several sounds and rustled her skirts as she hurried away from the Van and returned with the entire crowd of people.

She gestured them to their knees and spoke for several minutes, then turned to me.

"Senor, the people ask that you accept them as tenants on your land and they agree to obey and work very hard. You need only to nod towards them if you accept."

I am a bit stunned by this. I understand, I think. It answers questions, solves problems, if so, what is tugging at me?"

All of that flashed through my mind as I touched Rosaria's shoulder and took a step towards the gathering of people; all with bowed heads.

I went through them, touching the men lightly, lifting their chins so they were not bowed before me and letting my hand glide across each woman and child as I passed by.

"I am very proud to have you come work for me on my land and I will do my best always to see that you remain safe and happy. Thank you."

Translations took place from all directions and soon they rose as one and cheered.

I had my work force.

Instead of buying material and hauling it in the Vans, I talked a lumber yard and hardware store into free delivery with a thousand dollar plus order. I didn't give them the address of the land, rather a county roads yard in a nearby small town.

We loaded both Vans full of people and decided we would have to make at least another trip for everyone. I sent Ramos and a man of his choice to drive both Vans back.

It approached ten in the morning before everyone arrived.

I was fairly certain the interior of the old farm house would not fall in. I had walked all of it several times. But, perhaps to be assertive of my new found Patronship, I took only Ramos and five men he selected on a tour.

They somewhat ignored me as they went through the structure in a more thorough manner than I had.

"It is solid. It will not collapse. Two small places where the floor is weak, we will avoid. Patron, the men ask to bring the women in, they are very anxious."

I nodded just as my cell phone rang: the material would be ready to pick up in half an hour.

Ramos chose two other men, assured me they were good drivers and licensed, they left to gather the building materials.

Women and children everywhere. Smoke coming out a chimney at the back of the house that I had not seen. A small fire in the front and the back as brush and downed tree limbs fed the fire at the hands of children who seemed delighted to run and find branches.

I smelled food cooking: a woman bowed and offered me a cup of coffee. Where did all this come from? They brought it with them? Planning, expecting all this before it ever happened?

I didn't mind, but I was relegated to sitting back watching all the activity. The men with the trucks loaded with pallets of plywood, two by fours and heavier timbers arrived and was unloaded.

Suddenly everything stopped and lunch appeared from unknown recesses of the house.

Ramos had learned as we lunched together the previous month, that he ate Mexican, I ate American. Rice and Beans now and then if they didn't scald my throat, but we pretty much kept to our cultural tastes.

Somehow that got passed on to the women as I was presented with two double patty hamburgers on buns with lettuce tomato, pickles, onions, relish, mustard, mayonnaise and catsup. I was handed a cold sixteen ounce beer that I refused.

"No drink when work."

The woman smiled, nodded, turned and offered a large plastic bottle of Coca Cola.

"No one drinks beer when working."

She nodded. "We know, thought you would like:"

The was laughing and shouting and children running and playing and Mexican music with the repetitive guitar chords and percussion blending in.\

Is this what I had in mind to begin building my dream? Did I have anything specific in mind as to how it would all come about?

I must have been deep in thought for I suddenly became aware of many people gathered around and near silence at the farm.

"Senor...the men will ask for no pay; they ask to use trucks and bring things from home, beds, blankets, food. The women wish to stay here and work when tomorrow comes. The women ask no money."

My answer was quick. "There are only three rooms upstairs and two downstairs to sleep in. Perhaps five families could stay?"

Many translations, discussions, laughter, argument/

Ramos smiled and stood before me. "Senor, in my two bedrooms we have three familes with seven children. They sleep in the front room and on the kitchen floor in sleeping blankets. They are warm, we have enough food.

"They all ask you to let them make decisions as to how many can live in this old house. They promise there will be no arguing, no fighting, no noise when it is time to sleep...except perhaps for small babies."

I had to sit and think... I could feel the nervousness in the people around me but no one spoke.

I stood and paced for several minutes then went alone into the old house and felt it around me. It was different now. Food smells, people smells. It came alive as I walked and looked and listened.

All the women and some of the men were bowed and on bended knees when I arrived back in the yard.

"What ever the tradition is with Patron or Padron, you will not go to your knees and bow again, never, not to me, not to anyone.

"I will confess I have not clearly seen how the work is to be done here. I thought just men would come and go each day."

I paused as Ramos and Rosaria translated and explained.

"One thing...Ramos, Rosa, use careful words here please, I will need everyone to learn to speak and understand English. What I am building will be for many people, people who speak only English. Is it possible for all to learn in the space of a year or so?"

Rosaria came forth. "We are very sorry, Senor Jack. The children learn English in school and it feels we are losing our heritage. The old ones will not try to learn. The rest of us do what we must to survive.

"If it necessary to speak English, we will do so and be grateful for the chance to learn."

I smiled and nodded at her and at the crowd. "Good, good, I understand a little. It must be very difficult for you to learn new ways and see your children change before your eyes. I am sorry for that but I do not know what could be done. I can not speak and do not intend to learn your language, neither will my children or others who will come."

"You have children, Padron?" Mama Rosa smiled. "That is perhaps why you listen to women more than most men do. It now is sense to me."

I nodded and smiled again. "About children: it must be that you teach your children if you are to live here. There can be no school buses with many children for others to see. I do not have permission from the government for so many to live here. Is that understood?"

Again the translations, the discussions...

"You also must not give this address as where you live, or where you receive mail. I will purchase Post Offices boxes for this address and that is how your family and friends will send letters to you."

I began pacing again as the implications and consequences of so many people living here began to come to mind.

"Mama Rosa...is it permissible to call you that?"

She nodded and smiled, "Perfectly so, Padron, it feels very right."

"Mama Rosa...I place you in charge of all who decide to live here and who does live here will be your decision.

"I have decided that I am not capable of guiding the lives of so many people and that they, and you, must create a community of sorts to live in. Is that agreeable to you?"

Her eyes went wide the more she understood and she too lowered her eyes and paced.

"It is perhaps the idea of a small Mexican village?"

"I did not see it that way, but perhaps, can you explain?"

Mama Rosa translated as she walked and spoke to me.

"If we are to live here, together, we must work and live together with harmony and respect for each other. We must have no fighting, no drinking and fighting, no beating wives, no stealing, no breaking things.

"We will need teachers for the children and a schedule for work and learning.

"We must decide if we cook and eat separate, or we cook at one time and eat together. 

"Padron, I see now why you hesitate to approve."

She turned and spoke to all gathered around in English and in Spanish, "Padron has asked me to speak for him in all things if we are to work and live together here. I will need a show of hands of all who accept me as the one who decides. Those who do not, can not remain here. Am I clear?"

Hands went up immediately and everyone looked this way and that to see if any did not join. All hands were raised, even the small children who joined in because everyone else did.

"Senior Jack, Padron, it is decided. I will do as you ask as good as I can. Thank you for giving us a chance at a new life. I think everyone will soon realize how fortunate they are."

I gestured and Ramos and Mama Rosa took a place on each side.

"This is now where you live and work. I will help and visit, but Ramos and Rosaria will be in charge of what goes on.

"There may be more who wish to come here, you will decide who. There may be some who want to leave. You will arrange for that.

"Is there a man who is an electrician who can bring electricity safely to the house, both one ten and two twenty?"

Three men held hands up.

"Tell Ramos what tools and material you need and please, work very safely; do not allow anyone near as you work."

The men nodded and with that, it was if I had suddenly disappeared. Groups formed and all went there separate ways.

The real work had begun. Not quite the way I had foreseen, but there is a satisfied glow as I drive away.



The Farm Ch. 02



When Andrew opened the door to let me out, a pretty, petite woman with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair was waiting with Liam. She looked me over and nodded, then looked up at Andrew.

"How was she?"

"Very good. She'll be a real profitable addition."

"Good," she smiled. "I'm gonna take her to Dr. Parker and get her checked out. See you later, hon'," she said seductively.

Liam grabbed my arm and he and Missy walked me down the hall and back to the servants' staircase. We walked up one flight and then into another hallway.

"You must be nervous," said Missy.

"Nervous doesn't begin to explain how I'm feeling right now."

"Well, all the girls who are here want to be here. They want to be used just like you do."

"When did they say that? Before or after they were forced to suck your husband's cock?"

Missy stopped me and smacked me across the face. "You know nothing. They came. They all came."

"Are you actually saying this is legitimate?"

"I'm saying that they all came of their own free will."

My eyes flew open wide. "Wait -- do you mean they all chose to be here?

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I didn't choose to. Can I go now?"

"No. You're ours now. Don't worry, we take care of our girls."

"What a relief," I said, rolling my eyes.

She slapped my face again and said, "Don't you get fresh with me. Come on, the doctor's waiting. He's looking forward to meeting you," she teased.

I glared at her and Liam pulled me away and into a very large office on our right. I looked around in disbelief -- it was actually a real doctor's office: sterile environment, instruments, modernized equipment, two cots, two examining tables, and of course stirrups.

I sighed. I wondered how large this place actually was. The doctor walked in from an adjoining room and held out his hand to me. He was older, tall and thin with gray hair, I guessed he was in his sixties.

"I'm Dr. Parker. You are Vivienne, correct?"

I reluctantly shook his hand and nodded.

"My my, they found a real nice one," he said to Missy.

"Mhm...if only she wasn't so fresh," she replied.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be a good addition to your business."

"I'm sure she will be." Missy turned to me and said very warmly, "Dr. Parker here's been our family doctor ever since Andrew and I were married. We trust him with our lives. You're in very good hands, you don't need to worry. I'm gonna sit right here on this cot and watch."

"Okay..." I answered cautiously, biting my tongue.

"Liam, you can wait outside."

Liam left and Missy sat down on the cot as Dr. Parker lead me to a scale. I was weighed and measured.

He called out to Missy, "5'6, 140 pounds. Curvy in all the right places. What are you, a D?"

"36 D."

"My, my...I'll bet you're nice and fertile. You sure look it," he commented, smiling lasciviously. "Well, I'm gonna need some blood from you and a urine sample."

"I really have to pee," I answered quickly.

"Sure. Bathroom's through that door right there. Let me get you a cup."

As he went to retrieve the cup I looked over at Missy, who smiled at me. She seemed young, but I didn't want to ask how old she was. So I asked how old her sons were.

"Liam's 25, Fred's 30, and Drew's 32. I started early -- Andrew and I married when I was 16. He was 19. I had Drew at 17."

"Wow. Why so early?"

"We just knew it was right."

Crazy. These people were crazy. I couldn't even imagine spending the rest of my life with someone at my age, let alone 16.

Dr. Parker returned with the cup and I went to the bathroom.

There was no window in there. I sighed and did my business, washed my hands and the outside of the cup, and came out. Dr. Parker was talking to Missy in a low voice, I couldn't make out what he was saying. Missy looked at me and smiled and Dr. Parker turned and walked to me, taking the cup from my hand.

"Now, sit on the table and I'll draw some blood."

Dr. Parker put exam gloves on and started taking my blood. I asked, "Where do you send these for testing? Isn't it a little suspect that so many women get so many STD tests all the time?"

"Not just the women. The clients are screened regularly too. I have a lab in town."

"Don't the people who work there question what you're doing?"

He laughed, "Not at all. The people that work there are either clients or whores."

My mouth dropped open. "You mean some women here get to have a life outside of this?"

Missy said, "The ones who do this on the side, yes."

"Why can't I just do this on the side?" My god, what was I saying?

"You were made to be fucked and bred, I'm sure Dr. Parker won't disagree with that."

Dr. Parker replied, "No I won't. You are 100 per cent correct, Missy."

Dr. Parker took a third vial of blood and then had me lay down and put my feet in the stirrups. Here's where I got nervous. I knew my body would give me away. This was a fetish of mine.

"Okay, let's see here....First I'm gonna examine your breasts."

I took a deep breath as he started feeling the tissue in my breasts, and my heart started beating faster. I could feel my nipples hardening even though he wasn't touching them.

"Mhm..." he said as he felt around. "No lumps, that's good. Now..."

Dr. Parker smacked my tits hard, first one, then the other. I yelped and he did it again, harder. Then without a word he walked to the end of the table and sat down on his stool. He picked up a speculum from his tray, lubricated it, then spun around. I watched his eyes fix themselves on my pussy as he slid the speculum inside me.

"My, I believe she's lubricated already," he commented.

"How do you know it's not just the lube?" asked Missy.

"Some of her quim just dripped onto my finger. Where'd you say they found her?"

"In the woods."

"Like a wild animal," he said, chuckling.

He stuck a swab in me and put it on a dish. I looked up at the ceiling, feeling my cheeks growing hot, and felt him slide the speculum out of me. He replaced it with two of his fingers and pressed his thumb to my clitoris and started rubbing it slowly as he finger fucked me. I moaned and looked over at Missy. She was sitting there watching, smiling. She locked eyes with me and spread her legs. I could see her bare cunt underneath her skirt. She slid her fingers down there and started massaging it and groaning. I gasped and looked over at the doctor, who was watching my face. He said, "That's a good girl. Get that cunt nice 'n juicy for me."

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or Missy. I looked at her again and saw that she had hiked up her skirt and put herself prominently on display. She was panting and rubbing herself as she watched the doctor finger me. I started groaning in spite of myself and looked back at the doctor.

He started rubbing my clit faster and harder and said, "Man I can't wait to stick my dick inside this juicy li'l cunt. You're really likin' this, aren't ya?"

"No...!" I groand.

"Does it feel real good when I rub your clitoris? Don't lie to me," he warned, "Girls who lie get punished.

I muttered breathlessly, "Yes, I like it."

"You're a li'l slut, ain't ya? You pretend like you don't like it, like you don't wanna be here, but I think secretly you love bein' treated like this. You love bein' at someone's mercy. You'll be a good slave."

I thought about John and felt an orgasm well up inside me. I screamed and started cumming hard on his gloved fingers, John's face in my mind.

"That's right girl....My, you are gushin' hard! Men are gonna love you."

I only answered in a series of moans and whimpers, writhing on the table as my orgasm rushed through me. I hadn't noticed her get up or walk over, but suddenly Missy was climbing on top of me. She planted her cunt on my lips and commanded, "Eat it, slut."

I sobbed as the doctor was still working my pussy with his fingers, and slid my tongue against her plump little clit. I started devouring her urgently. I wasn't sure if I just wanted to get it over with or if I was actually enjoying the scenario.

As I sucked and lapped at her dripping wet cunt I came fast and hard. I shrieked, my mouth full of her pussy, my body convulsing on the cold table. The doctor pulled his fingers out before I was even done and walked to us. He stood over my face, unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out and started stroking it while he watched me eat Missy out.

It didn't take either of them very long. I felt Missy's pussy start throbbing and she reached over and dug her fingernails into the doctor's shoulder. The doctor groaned and started pumping his cock faster, and as Missy's pussy pulsated and her cum oozed out of her and all over my mouth, the doctor sprayed my face and hair with his hot semen. I was instantly covered in cum.

Missy slid down and laid on top of me and started licking up the doctor's semen. Her warm, wet tongue swept over my face and collected every bit of it. She kissed me and pinched my nipple hard, making me yelp into her mouth, which fed me his salty cum. She slapped my face softly and ordered, "Swallow it, slut."

I swallowed it down and she grabbed my jaw and made me show her that I had swallowed all of it. When she was satisfied that I had, she climbed off of me.

"Well, doctor, what do you think?" she asked as she fixed her skirt.

"Excellent, excellent. I'll have the tests expedited. Hell, I'll even do them myself. We should know in a couple days."

Missy turned to me and said, "Get up. I'm gonna show you to your quarters."

"Can I just wash my-"

"No," she interrupted me. "You'll bathe later, with the rest of the girls."

Missy lead me out of the room. Liam was there waiting for us, and I couldn't help but notice the bulge in his pants. I briefly remembered sucking his cock in the woods, and tried to shake it.

"Sounded like you had fun, mama. Do you approve?"

Missy smiled up at him and said, "I'm very pleased with you boys. You found us a good little whore. Now come and let's show her to her quarters."

Liam adjusted himself and motioned for us to go ahead of him. As we walked down the hall Missy gave me the rules.

We worked in two shifts. My shift was first. I was to get up at nine every morning and be at breakfast by 9:30. We weren't allowed to wear clothes except for sleeping in, if we wanted, and for times like breakfast, lunch and dinner. Then we could wear the lingerie provided by them. I couldn't believe they'd feed us that much but, as Missy said, we needed our energy for the clients.

After breakfast at around 10:15 we were to go directly to the gym. Only there were we allowed to wear sports bras, shorts, and what-not. After an hour of physical activity we were to shower and be in our assigned stables by 12:30.

We would be monitored everywhere. Not only were there guards everywhere, there were also cameras -- even in the stables. We would be videotaped getting fucked to ensure the client was doing what he had paid for, and nothing less or more.

Before opening the door to my room, Missy asked if I had any questions so far. I shook my head and she added, "Myself, my husband, and my boys can have you any time we want as long as you are not with a client or scheduled to be with a client. This means any time of the day or night. If you are sleeping and one of us wakes you, you do what you are told. If you act out in any way, treat the clients poorly, or fail to adhere to your schedule, you will be punished as we see fit. You are ours. We own you until you are sold."

"Until I'm sold?"

"If a client wishes to buy you he must meet our price. We'll be chargin' a pretty penny for you, though."

"What if I don't wanna go with a client?"

"Too bad. You don't have a choice."

"So I could wind up being sold to someone who'd murder me."

Missy threw her head back and laughed. "You know nothing about our community, do you? Chances are you'd be sold to someone we know -- and we know practically everyone."

"So even if someone gets me pregnant, you won't necessarily sell me to that person?"

Missy sighed, "No. We went over this."

"Oh right. You'd sell my baby on the black market."

"That's enough, slut. Get in your room."

She opened the door to a large room which looked almost as sterile as the doctor's office. There was just one bed, a closet, and a window that faced the stables across the way. I slowly walked to the window and looked out.

There were no doors on the stables and I could see that the first two rows of stables were full of women getting fucked, or on their knees sucking cock, or receiving the many delicious forms of torture I couldn't get enough of: paddles, flogs, restraints....I sighed without thinking and bit my lip.

I heard the door close behind me and turned around. Liam was standing there, his cock out and standing tall.

"Come over here, Vivienne," he commanded quietly.

I hesitated and turned back to the window, almost mesmerized by the sights of the place. It was unbelievable that here, in the middle of nowhere, sexual slavery was a booming business.

Liam's hands were suddenly entangled in my hair and he yanked me away from the window.

"I'm not gonna be so nice to you if you don't do as I tell you," he said through his teeth, his eyes burning into mine. "Get on your knees and open up that pretty mouth, slut."

I slowly got to my knees and looked up at him as I opened my mouth. He grabbed a fistful of my hair again and rammed his cock down my throat, gagging me. I started sucking hard, wanting to get it over with as fast as possible. I started imagining John's face again, the feel of his hand, the weight of his eyes on me...

"Yeah," he growled, "I heard you in there with my mom. I bet you were eatin' her pussy. You like my mom's pussy? It's real tasty, ain't it?"

"Mhm!" I barely replied, tears streaming down my cheeks as I processed what he was saying.

"I can't wait to fuck you. We're all gonna fuck you. And we're all gonna leave our cum inside you. You want that?"

"Mm-mm!" I shook my head feebly.

"You're gonna get it anyway, you little fucking slut. And maybe, if you're lucky, I'll eat your pussy like I eat my mom's pussy. Oh...oh fuck! Ungh!"

His cock throbbed hard between my lips and his cum filled my mouth and throat as he pulled my hair harder rammed himself fully inside me. When he was done, he pulled out of my mouth he slapped my face and made me remain on my knees.

"Lucky for you you get a single room...but that might change. Find something to wear in that closet. When you hear the bell, that means it's time for dinner. But just remember: I can have you any time I want. And I will."



The Farm Ch. 03



I reluctantly pulled away from Maryann early the next morning, needing to use the bathroom. I grabbed my clothes and took them to the bathroom with me, slipping into them once I was finished. Instead of going back to bed and disturbing Maryann, I headed downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. It wasn't long before the smell of fresh coffee permeated the large farmhouse and brought more people down to the kitchen and dining area. We had a lot to get done that day but before anyone got started, I wanted to have a word while we were all still together.

"Listen up, everyone," I called over the din of voices and clatter of breakfast dishes, "we have a lot to get done today but there's something important we need to agree on before any of us goes anywhere. Just based on what I experienced, what I saw and what I heard yesterday and last night, I think it's safe to say that we are all enjoying ourselves on this trip. However, Dan is coming up for the day and if he even suspects that any one of us hooked up last night, he will stay here tonight, effectively quashing any follow-up activities you might have been planning. I'm going to be very clear about this; if any of you can't control yourselves while he is here and you ruin it for the rest of us, we will make you regret it. Everyone got it? That means not only 'hands off' for the day, but limit the flirting and innuendo as well. Focus on the work today and we can play big-time tonight."

Everybody was in agreement and, when we saw Dan on his way up the long driveway, I suggested that everyone get their last kisses and gropes out of their systems. I made out with both Denise and Maryann, gave Denise's tits a good groping then pulled Maryann against me while squeezing her ass. It was a good thing I wasn't wearing sweatpants as I went out to meet Dan while everyone else got started on the tasks we'd agreed upon. Dan seemed pleased not only that we were up, but that we had planned out what we each were doing and were already getting started. I kept my eyes open the whole day and was pleased to see that everyone maintained their decorum with respect to everyone else; I was suitably impressed.

After a hard day's work, Dan stayed and had dinner with us as some of us cooked once again while others showered and relaxed. While no one was exactly encouraging Dan to leave, we were all pleased and relieved when he finally did. We were sitting around the living room, Maryann and Karen on either side of me with Sarah sitting on the floor in front of me, Denise between Jeff and Frit on the couch to my right and Chrissy between Brian and Mark on the other couch to my left. Ted was sitting on the arm of the couch beside Karen.

Sarah turned to me and asked if, since everyone had been good all day, we were now allowed to "play big-time." I asked in reply what she had in mind and she maneuvered herself onto her knees before me, her hands going immediately to waistband of my shorts. Everyone's focus was on her, but I turned to Karen and asked whether she'd be interested in having her pussy eaten. She looked around the room as I raised my ass to let Sarah work my shorts down and saw Denise with a hand in each of Frit's and Jeff's laps. A smile brightened her face and she stood, which seemed to get everyone else moving, as well. I watched as she worked her shorts and panties over her hips, exposing her trim, blonde strip of groomed fur and, as she bent over to push them to her ankles, aiming her bare ass right at Brian, Mark and Chrissy. By the time she straightened up, Ted had moved around behind Sarah, who was kneeling and stroking my cock. Jeff and Frit each had a hand on one of Denise's tits as they watched Karen and Chrissy was having both Brian and Mark stand up right in front of her.

Sarah lowered her head into my lap and engulfed my throbbing cock in her hot, talented mouth. As Karen stepped up onto the couch to position her pussy in front of my face, I saw Ted slide his hands up under Sarah's shirt and Brian and Mark's shorts hitting the floor. Sarah was sliding her mouth up and down my cock while pumping the base as I gripped Karen's ass and started licking her pussy. She moaned and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me against her. I slurped up the juices she was secreting before focusing on her clit and slipping a couple of fingers into her slippery hole. She was humping her pussy against my face as Sarah bobbed her head up and down in my lap.

I learned later that while I was eating Karen's pussy and Sarah was polishing my knob, Chrissy had been sitting on the couch in front of Brian and Mark, jerking their cocks, before she alternated sucking one while she pumped the other. Denise had extracted Frit's and Jeff's cocks and was pumping them while they removed her shirt and bra and played with her tits and sucked her hard nipples. Ted slid Sarah's shorts and panties off, then lay on his back with his face below her pussy and Maryann quickly had Ted's shorts down and was sucking his cock.

I got the gist that something was going on as I heard more moaning than just from Karen, including Sarah moaning around my cock. Sarah's mouth already felt incredible, but the vibrations from her moaning felt even better and Karen's pussy tasted so scrumptious I could have eaten it for hours. Denise had ended up moving onto the floor to blow Frit, so Jeff had moved behind her, sliding her shorts and panties off and slipping his cock into her engorged, dripping pussy. Frit was taking in everything going on as Denise sucked him off, so he filled me in later on what I hadn't been able to see. While Chrissy had been blowing Brian, Mark had moved between her legs, stripped off her shorts and started eating her pussy. Maryann had stripped off her own shorts and had straddled Ted as he lay on the floor, sliding her pussy down over his rigid cock.

The room was full of moaning, slurping and sloshing as we worked on each other but from my perspective, it seemed as though Sarah was poised to be the first to cum. Her moaning around my cock was becoming whimpering interspersed with cries of pleasure as she kept having to remove her mouth from my cock. When she abandoned me completely, obviously on the brink of, then riding out, an incredibly intense orgasm, I stopped what I was doing and looked up at Karen, who appeared to be on the verge of cumming herself. She looked down to see why I had stopped licking her and I asked if she wanted to ride me. She nodded mutely and lowered herself onto my lap as I guided my cock into her slick, snug pussy.

As she started to ride me, I took a quick look around to see what was going on. Jeff's hips were smacking against Denise's jiggling ass while her lips slid up and down Frit's tool. Frit looked like he was ready to burst at any moment, his head thrown back and his ass rising up off the couch. Chrissy was still sitting on the other couch but now Brian was kneeling between her legs fucking her and Mark was standing over her while she sucked his cock. While I worked Karen's shirt up over her head, revealing her luscious tits encased in a sports bra, Sarah had finished cumming and got up, walking over to Frit and immediately stepping up on the couch so that her pussy was in his face.

I reached behind Karen and started working her bra up, noting that Ted was now fucking Maryann hard, her face showing an expression I'd seen a few times the previous day. I leaned back while Karen bounced up and down on my lap, running my hands over her soft, smooth globes before bringing my mouth to them to run my tongue around her large areolas and suck her thick nipples. Frit's grunts were slightly muffled by Sarah's pussy as he finally started spewing into Denise's mouth and, once his shrinking cock fell free, she moved up onto the couch and Jeff repositioned himself between her legs, quickly going back to fucking her.

Karen was riding me harder, clearly in pursuit of her own orgasm, which made it difficult to lick and suck her titties, so I held her close, squeezing her ass while she rode me and watching as Maryann came on Ted's cock on the floor in front of me. When she opened her eyes and saw me watching her, she smiled and winked before climbing off his cock and bending over to suck it again. Mark was getting ready to take over for Brian fucking Chrissy but, seeing Maryann's ass up in the air, Brian moved over to kneel behind her, instead of slipping his cock back into Chrissy's mouth. Mark began to fuck Chrissy while Brian slid his cock into Maryann's pussy.

Karen's pussy became impossibly wetter as she rode me harder and faster while I pushed up into her as deeply as I could. Finally, she let out a moan and slowed down in her movements as she came. Her pussy was awesome, but I was ready to try another so, once she'd finished cumming, I had her climb off me. Catching both Mark's and Jeff's attention, I directed a big switch, with Jeff taking over for me, Mark going over to Denise and me getting my shot with Chrissy. She was still sitting with her legs spread wide, so I knelt between them while I admired her athletic figure. Once I'd guided my tool into her engorged and slippery pussy, I ran my hands over her tits and hard nipples while I fucked her.

Chrissy demonstrated her athletic flexibility by bringing her legs up to rest on my shoulders, so that my hips were then smacking against the backs of her legs. I could feel my orgasm beginning to build in the snug, slippery confines of her pussy and wondered whether she'd cum yet with all that fucking that Mark and Brian had been giving her. The closer I was to cumming, the harder I was fucking her sweet pussy, enjoying the slow build-up. When I was finally ready to blow my load, I pulled out of Chrissy pussy and climbed up onto the couch to slip my cock into her mouth. She grabbed my ass and held on as I fucked her face, exploding down her throat after only a few minutes.

Once I was completely spent, I climbed down off the couch and looked around. Maryann was still blowing Ted as Brian continued to fuck her but I encouraged Ted to take over for me with Chrissy. He got up and climbed on top of Chrissy, fucking her missionary on the couch as Maryann lay Brian down and started sucking his cock. Mark had pulled Denise down onto the floor and was fucking her there, kneeling as she lay on her back. Karen was also on her back on the other couch with Jeff straddling her ribs and fucking her luscious tits. As I was watching, Jeff grunted and began spurting ropes of cum on to Karen's chest, neck and chin. I had just cum, but seeing this, I knew it wouldn't take too long to recover.

Sarah was crying out as she started cumming again while Karen licked Jeff's cum from her fingers. She sat up and Jeff and I sat on either side of her watching what was still going on around us. Once she'd finished cleaning herself up, Karen's hands found Jeff's and my cocks and began to gently fondle them. By the time Sarah finished cumming and moved off of Frit's face, his cock was nearly rigid again so he moved over to straddle Denise's chest, laying his tool between her tits. Mark looked around and saw essentially what Brian had seen earlier, Maryann sucking cock with her ass up in the air. He pulled out of Denise and moved over behind Maryann as I realized that she was now in the same position Denise had been in the night before as we'd peeked at her.

Our attention was drawn over to Ted, who was grunting as he thrust deeply into Chrissy, finally collapsing on top of her. We watched as Mark fucked Maryann while she sucked off his brother and Frit sliding his tool between Denise's fleshy globes. Frit eventually moved down and slipped his throbbing tool into Denise's pussy and started fucking her hard. Brian soon let out a grunt and spewed into Maryann's mouth while his brother's hips continued to smack against her ass. Ted climbed off of Chrissy and they sat side-by-side on that couch, his limp member lying against his leg. Sarah was sitting opposite them watching while lightly caressing her pussy.

It wasn't long before Mark thrust hard a few more times against Maryann's ass then spewed into her pussy. The three of them were soon lying there in the middle of the floor, Brian and Mark both completely spent. Frit was still fucking Denise hard while the rest of us were recovering. Karen was doing a good job of bringing Jeff and me back to attention, and soon moved onto the floor to take turns blowing us until we were rock hard again. As she blew me, I was considering the things I hadn't done yet that night. I hadn't fucked Karen's or Denise's tits, I hadn't fucked Denise's pussy at all. I had only eaten Karen's pussy so far. I realized there was a lot I still wanted to do before we left the next day. Slipping my cock from Karen's mouth, I got up and got to it.



The Farm Ch. 03



CHAPTER 3:

REFECTORY

Georgie Suxcock has a name to live up to -- and a personal trainer all her own to help her practice! Dirk Shattler is one of the Fun Farm's assessors, working hard (quite literally) to ensure that the Farm's guests and patrons are fully satisfied.  

The door slid back, and I walked out -- a little unsteady in my high heels. Dirk wolf whistled when he saw me.

'Well fuck me sideways, girl!' he exclaimed, folding his arms and bunching up those massive muscles. He was grinning from ear to ear, chewing on his gum. 'You certainly seem to be warming to your new body, Georgie.'

I decided not to acknowledge his comment.

'Are we going to the refectory,' I asked. 'I'm a little hungry.'

'After swallowing down all my spunk I'm surprised you've got any room left,' Dirk chuckled. I blushed, ashamed to be reminded that I had just taken a massive cock in my mouth and sucked on it until I was filled with a man's cum.

'Hollow legs,' I said, trying to make light of what he said.

'Damn fine legs, Georgie. Ok. Let's walk.'

The corridor was simple, as plain as my room. The white carpet muffled all sounds, so that it seemed we were the only two people in the place. Occasionally we would pass other doors -- other dorms, where Dirk said other girls stayed. Girls who were once guys, who were forced to undergo surgery and made to perform.

'Are there any girls here who came willingly?' I asked, curious about this place -- trying to get an idea of how large it might be, where it might be: any piece of information that could help me escape.

Dirk shook his head, but it wasn't a negative response; he was simply surprised that I should ask.

'Why do you want to know that, Georgie? Do you think there are guys who get off on being turned into beautiful women -- into hot, sluttly little femboy traps -- and then forced to suck on cock and take it up the ass?'

I was phased by his vivid descriptions. Both Dirk and the manager lady I had met when I first woke up had been sure to provide me with crude and specific imagery.

I shrugged. 'I just figured that... if a guy really did want to look like a woman, but, you know, he couldn't afford the surgeries...'

'That his absolute loss of freedom might be compensation? Ha! Well, for some people I'm sure that really is the case. There are a few women,' he frowned, 'who come here voluntarily. But in general, our clients prefer an... unwilling service model.'  

'But why?' I protested. 'Why is that? Why do you have to take people off the streets and carve them up, force them to be something they never wanted to be?'

He just grinned, slyly. 'Hush now Georgie, you're getting yourself all upset -- and we want to make a good impression for the girls in the refectory now, don't we?'

I had been distracted by what I had been saying, and hadn't fully realised that we had been approaching a set of double-doors.

Dirk pushed one door open -- revealing the refectory.

It was an odd affair.

There were tables, like park benches but made of blue-grey plastic, where some girls sat, eating out of moulded trays. Most of the girls were dressed like whores or hookers -- skimpily clad, like I was: skater girls, dancers, S&M girls, surfer girls, emo kids, goths, rock chicks, school girls ("Aren't you glad you didn't wear that outfit again," Dirk chuckled), girls in lingerie, pony girls, cowgirls... Every type of every style of girl you could think of, crammed into this huge bustling room.

Looking at all that female flesh I couldn't help but feel aroused. There was so much pussy here, I could smell it!

Dirk saw my blush and heard me panting.

'Want to get your rocks off, eh?' he asked, chuckling appreciatively. 'Well these girls are all like you -- only they've been here a lot longer. Some of them are more dominant -- they might want to show you a thing or two.'

He cast a wry look over at me, and I felt my heart pitter-patter as I thought of all the wonderful things I could do with these girls -- especially now, in this hot blonde body.

Dirk sighed. 'It's amazing to think, isn't it, that there's not one vagina in this entire room.'

I did a double-take.

'Wha—What did you say?'

He shrugged. 'No vaginas. No labia. No clitorises. None of the other... bits.'

'But... but...! But they're all so fucking hot!'

'Ha! Just like you, Georgie. What, you thought you were the only one? After what we just talked about? Grief you are slow.' He patted me on the shoulder. 'Get used to it,' he said. 'These girls are going to have a field day with you -- I can tell.'

And then he turned about and opened the door, leaving the place.

'Wait!' I called out. 'Where are you going? You can't leave me in here!'

'Sure I can! And I am! You have an hour before I come back for you. None of the staff eat with the acquisitions, Georgie. You girls have your own eating place.' He smiled, almost sadly. 'Something tells me though, that with your ass, and those cock-sucking skills of yours... Well, you won't be having much of a dinner today.'

He winked at me, and then he was gone.

I turned back to the refectory. There were too many girls, they couldn't all single me out. But there were no unlikely tables I could sit at -- no places where I could identify a person and say, 'Well she doesn't look like she'd be interested.' Because all of the girls were so damn fine, and even now I sensed them looking at me; felt their gaze sizing me up -- in more ways than one.

I decided I needed to make contact, grab a seat, before I found myself something to eat.

Spotting a table with three other surfer girl types at it I stepped over the bench and sat down.

'Hey girls,' I said, in my feminine voice. 'How're we doing?'

They looked at me, irritably, but said nothing.

'What's the lunch today?' I asked, trying to start a conversation -- desperate for contact.

The food in the trays looked nothing better than milky gruel.

'Porridge, huh?' I wasn't impressed. A place that could afford to keep all of these girls could surely afford decent food. It wasn't what I had been expecting.

'Where do I get mine?'

Nobody answered.

As I started to get up, a meaty hand dropped onto my shoulder and pushed me back down again. I turned, looking up -- and saw a behemoth of a woman looking back down at me.

'Name's Rhonda,' she said. 'You and me gonna have some fun.'

I tried to stand up but just the weight of her hand and arm relaxed was too much for me to move.

'No, um, thanks Rhonda, but I'm here to eat.'

'Here to eat cock! Hur hur!' Her laugh was moronic. She looked at me with two big hazel eyes, peering past the sheer mass of her breasts. She wore a huge black corset and tight jeans, both of which bulged with her muscles. Her crotch more or less at my head height, I stole a quick glance, and saw a large bulge in her pants.

'Turn around,' she suggested.

I started to protest -- but fell silent as those heavy hands grabbed me by my waspish waist, lifted me up, twisted me and dropped me down again.

Now I was sat facing her tight jeans, the bulge in her pants leering at me, leaning forwards—

'Please!' I whimpered.

'What your name?' Her voice was like gravel; a thick mucosic growl, it lacked intelligence and elegance -- was devoid of any degree of femininity.

'Robert,' I said, casting my eyes to the floor; determined not to forget who I was.

'I mean real name!' she said, and I could hear her grin.

I looked up then, to see if there could be any sense in hoping that she might be using sarcasm; if there was any hope at all that she, with all her muscle and weight, might be able to help me break out of here—

I swallowed, as I looked into those large eyes of hers, seeing nothing there but impatience and lust.

'Georgie,' I said, the word catching in my throat. 'Georgie Suxcock.' I felt tears prick my eyes but refused to let her -- let anybody -- see me breaking down.

'That a gooood name! You going to show all how good a name can be!'

I looked about, and noticed that some of the other 'girls' had come over, attracted to the scene this monster of a... of a woman was making.

I watched, scared and mesmerised, sweating, as she reached down with one hand and rubbed her crotch. Her other hand came up behind my head, virtually unnoticed until it was too late, and she drew me roughly into her, so that as I gasped I breathed in the scent of her crotch. She rubbed herself up against my lips, tipping my head back so that she could look me in the eye. She was grinning, wildly.

'Suck me,' she said.

'No! I don't want to!'

Abruptly she stopped rubbing herself against my lips and grasped my head with both hands.

'Do it,' she growled, a low murmur that maybe none of the other girls would hear. 'Do it, or I break neck. Ok?'

I swallowed, nodding. I had no choice. I had to survive. I had to live long enough to escape, long enough to get help.

'Ok,' I said. 'Ok.'

She released me from her grip, and stood with her hands on her hips, daring me to refuse to unpack her meat.

Hating myself for what I was doing, I reached forwards and unbuttoned her jeans, unzipped the fly and saw the black thong that sat behind it. She was barely concealed; her big black dick was almost as big as Dirk's before it had hardened, and I balked at the idea of having to suck on something that big again.

Gingerly, my fingers closed around her cock, feeling the semi-erect muscle and the oily skin of her penis. She was circumcised, as I was, as we probably all were -- the head of her dick was a paler brown against the ebony of her body.

I opened my full lips and began licking her, lapping at it, feeling sickly as I tasted her precum. It oozed out, wetting my lips and dribbling onto my chin no matter how much I licked. I began gently rubbing her cock with one hand, the other placed on her jeans -- a feeble attempt to try to stop her from thrusting, should she try to.

I quickly realised that I was going to have to sink her dick into my mouth if I was to keep her under control, and slowly wrapped my lips around the head of her, going slow like Dirk had told me.

Soon I was bobbing on her dick, taking as much of her into my mouth as I could, my hands stroking the rest and her balls, trying to get her to come so she would leave me alone. I was vaguely aware of her sounds of pleasure, and of some chatter from the other girls, but put these things out of my mind -- simply concentrated on what I was doing.

Before long she had slapped my hands away and was thrusting herself into my obedient mouth. I sat there, my hands on her hips, as she gave me the full length of her cock. My lips were dripping precum and my whole mouth and throat felt as wet and warm as a vagina. There was some deep, deep part of me that was turned on by the association -- and I had a brief flicker of imagination, thinking what it would be like if I had a pussy and Rhonda were to be fucking it, filling me with her precum and drenching me—

Suddenly she stopped moving, and I felt her cock twitch and bob as she unloaded spurt after spurt of hot cum into my open mouth. I kept it open as she withdrew, firing cum all over my face. It dripped down my cheeks and onto my big tits; I could feel it cool against my skin as it ran between the cleft and down towards my belly.

Rhonda slapped her cock against my face a couple times, which took me by surprise, and then stepped back, grinning more than before (if that was possible) and tucked herself back into her jeans.

'You suit name!' she said, her voice booming -- and that's when I noticed the other girls as well.

About two dozen of them were watching me, some rubbing their crotches, others openly wanking their dicks. They ranged in all sizes, from my own sized penis to monsters like Dirk's. Hmm, maybe he hadn't been telling my the truth after all. Maybe the thought of a girl's dick being bigger than his was some sort of threat; maybe I could use that...

My thoughts were interrupted, as the three bikini girls from the next table approached me. The best word to describe them is 'candy' -- they were hot blondes, with delicious little tanned bodies I just wanted to fuck and cum all over. But they had cocks, and were stroking them as they strutted towards me.

Already my stomach was beginning to revolt at the thought of having to drink more of their cum, but I had no choice.

'Hi!' said one of the girls, brightly. 'I'm Candice, and I love to get BJs from girls like you. How about it?'

She cocked her hips, pouting at me. I think that, even if I was back home, in my real life, in the real world, I would still have said yes.

Here, at the Farm, I simply nodded.

'What about—' I started, almost too afraid to ask. 'What about your friends?'

'Oh!' Candice giggled. 'Well, you can just wank them off. Ok girls?'

They nodded mutely, apparently less enthusiastic about this than their leader.

I sat there, on the lunchtime bench, waiting for her to come closer.

'Uh, no,' she said, sarcastically. 'Like, for a proper BJ, the bitch kneels.'

I gulped, but got up and stepped towards her. She was a little shorter than me, but I was wearing heels and she was barefoot. Her balls sat in her bikini thong, her cock poking out before her.

I kneeled, resisting a strong urge to run my hands down the length of her sensuously curved body, ignoring the impulse to kiss those pert lips and cup those firm, small breasts. I found myself getting turned on by the very image of her, stood before me, as I kneeled down and gazed at her cock.

It went pretty much the same way as with Rhonda, starting off slow, almost teasing her. Somehow, I wanted to take more time, and when the other two stepped forwards and guided my hands to their stiff shafts I was slow, stroking them gradually.

When I started pushing my lips around the head of her cock Candice gasped, sounding just like a girl, and began thrusting herself deep and long into my mouth.

Her cock was small, maybe 6 inches, but the site of that toned, flat stomach and her small breasts cupped in her bright bikini started to get me thinking again about how good it would be to fuck her. I felt myself start to get aroused as I looked up, past the little mounds on her chest, and saw her blonde, beach bimbo features, her lips puckered, eyes melting in pleasure.

'Oh yes!' she said. 'Suck that dick, you dirty little whore!'

I began tugging on the two cocks either side of me more thoroughly, somehow desperate to have the hot cum of these sexy girls on my body. I knew they weren't girls -- knew that it was a dick I held in either hand, and that I wasn't fingering their pussies. ...but it felt good to have hot girls like that again, after having suffered the ignominy of sucking on Dirk's hard cock.

The only difference to how things used to roll is that here it was me pleasuring the girls. I'd never really been bothered about that, before.

As Candice thrust herself into me I felt my tits bouncing, felt my knees starting to hurt. My hotpants were tight about my crotch; I knew that my cock was rock hard, but was too preoccupied on serving the cocks laid out before me to worry about it.

Suddenly the girl to my left came in a spray of hot white spunk that burst all over my blonde hair, running down my arm. Seeing her friend cum the girl on my right was only moments behind her, spurting her juices down onto my tits with small girlish shrieks.

I looked up into Candice's eyes, saw her friends kissing her neck and vying with one another to kiss those beautiful lips—

Then Candice pushed herself as deep into my mouth as she could go and froze, unloading her sperm down my throat. I had no choice but to drink it, swallowing hard. That only created more of a vacuum in my mouth and Candice moaned at the sensation.  

She slowly swung her hips back and forth, pumping her softening cock in and out of my mouth. I had let go of the other two cocks, and reached up to cup her buttocks with both hands -- determined to get something out of being used.

I felt degraded and ashamed, as I knelt on the refectory floor while the others watched me, sucking thirstily on this hot bikini girl's cock, running my hands up and down her tight little body.

There were murmurs from the girls that had gathered, and then a klaxon sounded -- a harsh, scathing sound that cut right through me.

I realised instantly what it was that I was doing -- and the wrongness of it.

Abruptly I backed away, pulling Candice out of my mouth (she gasped a little, still tender) and stood up, looking about.

Some of the girls had sort of bored expressions on their faces, liked they'd missed out on a good thing, but all were turning to the double doors that dotted the refectory walls.

Candice and her friends were moving away from me.

I rushed forward and grabbed her by the arm. She looked at me like what the fuck was I doing, any appreciation for what I'd just done for her had evaporated.

'What's happening?' I asked, as the siren shut off.

She scowled at me and shook her arm out of my grip. 'End of lunch time,' she said, turning savagely and strutting off.

'Oh,' I said, feeling foolish.

None of the girls had put their trays away -- I vaguely wondered who did that -- and there were still some scraps of food lying around.

I had the mucosic sensation of having swallowed too much cum and took a long draught from a glass of water. There were bread rolls on one table; I snatched at one, biting into it hungrily. I hadn't really had much to eat.

The refectory was empty by the time I pushed open the double doors I had came through earlier. Before the humiliating experience of being made into a cock-sucking bitch for Rhonda and Candice.

Dirk was there, leaning against a wall, chewing gum.

'Howdy!' he said, always full of cheer; annoyingly so.

'Phew!' he said, noticing the cum on my face, in my hair, and on my body. My clothes were sticky, and only now did I notice the smell. 'Looks like somebody made a few friends.' He grinned.

I just looked at him and then broke down crying.

I sank to the floor, curling up into myself and sobbing uncontrollably. It was the most disgusting experience, to have been used like that -- and worse, to recall that there were moments where I actually enjoyed it. What was wrong with me? I needed to escape, but as Robert Spilman, not Georgie Suxcock!

'Help me,' I pleaded. 'Please, help me.'

Dirk tutted and came over, gently picked me up and stood before me.

'Now you know I can't help you,' and his voice was soft when he spoke. 'I'm your trainer. I'm here, for you. Understand? You may not think it, but... well, working at the Farm isn't just about how you look or what sexual acts you perform.' I grimaced. 'It's about what's in here as well.' -- And he lightly tapped my temple with one finger. I started to get my hopes up -- was he telling me to be strong, that if I kept myself from mental breakdown I could still remain me, retaining my personal identity?

He continued: 'All that this tells me is that you're not fully conditioned yet. You haven't been broken in properly, that's all.' He smiled, warmly, an expression at odds with the gravity of what it was he was telling me. 'You need to let go. You need to give up this nonsense about wanting to be helped. Yes, yes, everybody likes a helpless hot girl they can abuse -- but that should be the act, Georgie, not the reality. Don't you see? Now come on, let's get you back to your room. I think I know just the thing to get you loosened up this afternoon.'



The Farm Ch. 03



Ed took his time with me. He constantly taunted the two younger men as they waited eagerly for their turn to stuff their hard cocks into my cum filled sissy cunt. "Only right that your daddy gave his bitch to a real man before you two pathetic losers." After smothering me with his fat sweaty gut and smelly cock Ed had swapped ends never letting go of his prize. "Hell boys, this bitch ain't even gonna feel them little things of yours touchin' her once she's had mine!" He chortled making the other two seethe with anger and frustration. Getting a firm grip on my hair Ed positioned the head of his cock against the opening to my sissy hole then let his weight drive it into me. A long forlorn groan gurgled from my cum coated throat as the fat mans cock filled my sissy pussy echoing Ed's groan of lust. Ed's fat gut slapped into my ass and his heavy balls banged between my legs with every thrust of his hips.

With me impaled on his cock the bastard pulled hard on my hair forcing me to arch my back and bring my head off the bed to face the two younger men and their straining rigid tools. "Tell these boys how big Ed is slut," he panted, his fat gut slapping against my ass as he thrust himself into my slick slut pussy.

Grunting with every thrust I managed to moan, "Mr, Ed, is, huge," breathlessly. 

Enjoying the boys frustration the fat prick slowed his assault on my sissy ass. Ever so slowly he would withdraw his manhood from me until just the head spread my sissy cunt lips, then he would hold it there demanding that I beg for him to drive his hard cock back inside me. Staring numbly at the pair of cocks straining before me I whimpered defeated, "Please Mr Ed, please fuck me with your huge cock sir." Crying pathetically as his fat sweaty gut folded over my bottom while his throbbing member slide deeply into my sissy hole.

"Oh fuck yeah," Ed moaned as he slowly purposefully fucked my cum slick sissy-boi pussy. The other two men were fidgeting fighting for control over their urge to force themselves into the action taking place on the bed in front of them. Ed leered at the pair of sex hungry boys enjoying their torture. "Tell you what boys," Ed announced with a throaty laugh, "first one of you two to cum gets this bitches mouth." Ed's laugh deepen as the two sex crazed men eagerly began stroking their stiff cocks. With a sneer of derision Ed added, "The one who shows me the biggest load can have this tight little bitches cum filled cunt when I'm done!" Moaning the glassy eyed Earle and Darryl pounded their cocks furiously seeking release, trying to win.

I grunted with every thrust of Ed's pounding hips as he rode me with renewed enthusiasm calling the boys efforts pathetic while laughing at them. Darryl's cock spurted first, a weak insipid dribble of cum as he moaned his triumph. Earle's angry snarl of frustration mixed with Ed's cackling laugh as the knob Darryl tried to milk more cum into the woeful puddle he had just created. Giving his brother a dismissive leer Earle's cock erupted spewing large creamy spurts of spunk onto the bed in front of me. Behind me Ed forced his rigid cock balls deep into my sissy pussy grinding his pubes into ass. With a long animal growl Ed flexed his hips pumping my gurlie cunt full of his sticky seed. 

I moaned miserably as Ed rested his weight upon me breathing heavily his cock still deep in my boi-pussy. Gripping my hair he pulled back harshly pulling my head up and my body into his. "Which of these fucking losers came first missy," Ed panted.

Shuddering with self-loathing and the stuffed feeling of being impaled on Ed's cock I flicked my head as much as Ed's hold on my hair would allow indicating the knob Darryl and whimpered mournfully, "That one sir."

"Yeah I thought so," Ed drawled dismissively slowly beginning to grind his hairy hips into my soft butt. In my abused sissy pussy I could feel Ed's manhood engorging filling my sensitised hole while he sniggering meanly, "And which one came the most bitch?" 

Sniffling back a whimper I jerked my head painfully towards Earle and my voice cracked as told him, "That one sir."

Ed howled with laughter and with a mighty, "Yeeee-haaaaa!" Started brutally slamming his cock into me. With one hand holding my hair pulling me up off the bed, he rhythmically slapped my bare thigh with the other singing excitedly, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" I was bounced and thrown about the springy old bedstead as Ed rode me hard his fat gut slapping noisily into my ass. With a final deep pounding thrust Ed pulled my head up further howling in my ear, "Oooh Fucccking YEAH!!!!" Ed's big arms enveloped me holding my quivering body next to his sweaty, panting, twitching fat form. I was consumed with revulsion by his touch wishing I would mercifully black out. When Ed had recovered himself sufficiently and his slick cock popped wetly from my gaping gurlie-boi cunt, he cast me aside to bounce off the bed.

I hit the floor and flopped about trying to avoid the hands of the other two when Ed's voice froze us all. "Hang on a tick their boys, Ed here, he ain't quite done yet." As Earle and Darryl backed off reluctantly Ed shuffled up to me with his overalls about his ankles. As I cringed on the floor beneath him, he once more took hold of my hair and turning to the boys announced, "Little missy ain't done yet neither." As I squeaked with pain and fright Ed hauled me to my knees and grasping his slick gooey dick started to wipe the half-hard member over my cheeks and lips, "Little bitch needs to learn how to clean up after herself boys." Ed laughed slapping my face with his fat wet dick drawling cruelly, "Git at it bitch." 

The other two joined in the laughter as I comically tried to capture Ed's smelly fat meat with my mouth as he teased me evilly. Humiliated and frustrated I sobbed as I lunged pathetically trying to appease the bastard. Finally he let his cock drop between his hairy thighs and relaxed his grip on my hair so that I as able to wrap my lips about his fat cum slick meat and suck it into my mouth. Above me Ed and boys laughed at what cock hungry whore I was. Ed allowed me to suck and lick his cock and sweaty balls clean of his and their daddy's cum. When he eventually tired of his fun Ed pulled my still sucking lips away from his glistening meat. Pulling my head back, forcing me to look up at him, Ed smirked, "I believe these two boys have something they wish to talk to you about gurlie." Then with a flick of his arm he flung me towards the very intense looking Earle and Darryl before heading, laughing once more, out the door.

Earle and Darryl fell on me like dogs. What was left of my panties were ripped from my body as they fought over who would get which hole. I ended up sprawled on the bed as Earle fucked my sloppy sissy twat enthusiastically from behind while Darryl took great pleasure in making me gag on his hard gnarly cock. Every time I thought I would mercifully pass out Darryl would pull his cock out of my throat and as I gasped for breath he would demand that I tell him how big he was and how much I wanted his cock back in my throat. Darryl would then slam his cock into my mouth holding my head in a vise like grip and force me to swallow his cock until it felt like I drowning on the thing. Soon I was numb, barely feeling Earle's continued assault on my sissy twat as Darryl slapped me to get me to respond to his screamed demands. Bewildered and scared I blubbered what I thought he wanted to hear until his cock was back in my throat again. 

When Darryl came he grunted like an animal filling my throat with goo as I gagged and choked before finally passing out. I came too eventually still face down on the bed as some one fucked my boy cunt with wild abandon. I was vaguely aware their cock pistoning into me before the black void swallowed me again. 



The Farm Ch. 03



Chapter Three, Education

The Prize thought of them as Brutal and Cruel. Once the laudanum wore off and he struggled awake, they came to teach him at all hours in the cell with the heavy lock. Brutal came first. He held a thick belt doubled over on itself. Before the Prize could move, he was struck across the back. "What's your name?" He was struck again and again. "Your name is Prize." 

The belt came down again as the Prize tried to squirm into a corner, dragging his heavy chain with him. This time the blow landed on his naked back. "What's your name?" The blows and question continued until the Prize knew his name was Prize. Halden smiled. "Yes, your name is Prize." And he left. The Prize curled in the dirty straw and watched the light on the other side of the bars fade.

Prize tried to control his sobs. He closed his eyes. His back throbbed. He slept. Bolts of light shot across his eyes as he was dragged from his sleep by Cruel pulling him to his feet by his hair. 

"Don't pull back. Show me your body, Prize." 

The Prize tried to grip the dirt floor with his toes. Cruel kicked his legs apart. He lifted his chin. Arms manacled and chained before him. March ran his thumb over the flat nipples. The Prize recoiled and received an open-handed smack. 

"This is not yours. You present yourself as told." 

The Prize shuddered as he fought to maintain his stance. March pinched the Prize's right nipple cruelly between the cracked nails of his thumb and index finger. The Prize tried to pull away. His lip split with the next slap. 

"Stand for my pleasure." The Prize stood as March's hand moved down his stomach. It paused at his navel and the fingers slowly circled. March reached back and ran his fingers over the firm cheeks of Prize's buttocks. 

"Turn and push that ass out." 

He resisted and received a punch in the stomach. The Prize collapsed forward and arched his back and pushed out. Tears slid down his cheeks. A finger traced his crack. His buttocks were pulled apart and a finger touched his anus. Prize gasped, his knees buckled. He was dragged back to his feet and March grabbed the heavy chain and looped it over a high hook, pulling Prize's arms over his head. 

"Hang or stand. It's all the same for me." March gave Prize's buttocks a series of sharp smacks with the flat of his hand. Prize twisted on the chain. He turned him. He grabbed a fist-full of muscle then placed his hands on the reddened buttocks and wrenched them apart. He ran his fingers down the stretched skin and scratched at the puckered hole with his nail. He left Prize standing in the cold gasping in pain and vulnerability.

He stood shivering and slowly his legs buckled. He hung there until he lost the feeling in his hands. He pulled his legs back under himself to relieve the strain and when the blood flow returned to his hands, it brought pain. He tried to pull his hands through the manacles until the skin broke on the iron. Even slick with blood, Prize was unable to pull free. His legs cramped. His back ached. His body slipped forward in a half sleep. He woke to numb hands and pain.

Halden returned with the belt. He removed the chain from the hook and Prize fell to the floor. He felt relief and gratitude. Halden pulled back the folded belt. Before he could swing, Prize quickly stuttered out his name. Halden nodded. 

"Where are you from, Prize?" There was no reply. The belt cracked on his lower back. "You were born in a whore house. Your mother had you cut for the pleasure of others." 

Halden lifted the cut penis. The Prize shook his head and received half a dozen strokes of the belt. He learned his history. He learned his purpose. He learned to let Brutal handle him. He learned to let Cruel stroke his body and touch his anus though each touch there left him feeling hollow and sick to his stomach. 

He learned his worth. He learned to stand and present his body for blows or examination. He was rewarded by the lengthening of the chain. He could kneel on the floor and sleep propped against the wall. He ate from a bowl held to his lips. He was washed with cold water every few days. He squatted for the enemas. He spread for hair removal. He sent scalding tears coursing down his cheeks. He shivered in the damp and the cold. He cursed his mother for selling him into this life. He held on to the handkerchief and remembered the man who told him to stay alive. He waited for him to return.

Prize received his reward with a longer chain. His wristed were secured behind his back, but he could lie on the dirty straw to sleep. His food and water were placed on the floor for him to eat. He learned to count the passing of time from the changing sounds of Mrs. Featherwink's house. Laughter and music, times of silence. March pinched and stroked him as he ate. He learned to wake at the sound of the key in the lock. To make himself ready for dirty hands and hard smacks. Lie on your back. Put your ass in the air. Spread your legs. Your mother sold you to this. You are Prize. You're worth is in the pleasure you give. Prize, kiss me. He was cold. He was hungry. He wanted sleep. He wanted his hands and arms back. Most of all he wanted to keep the belt and hands away.

He was awake the second the key snicked in the lock. He closed his eyes to the light. He scrambled to his feet and waited for Halden or March to tell him what to do. A soft voice called him to the circle of light. He saw a pink-striped skirt and a small shoe of kid. 

"Come to me, Prize. Don't be afraid." Miss Liz settled herself on a low stool and Prize crouched before her waiting for a slap, his next examination. Miss Liz set her legs wide, the skirt dipping between her thighs. "Kneel here." She indicated a spot on the straw between her knees. "You are beautiful." She smiled. She positioned him so his right shoulder was turned to her and gently pushed him so his back and bound arms rested against her inner thigh. It was warm and soft. She tilted his head back, supporting his neck with a small hand. "I will kiss you." She pressed her lips against his. "Keep your lips soft." And kissed again. "Softer." She stroked her thumb across his lips. "Now part your lips and relax your jaw, my beauty." 

Her tongue touched the healing split in his lip sending stabs of pain. He let her explore his mouth. Her fingers stroked his cheek. He opened to her grateful for her soft touch. He pushed back with his tongue and received her soft admonishment as she drew away. "You don't push. You accept my gift. This time you may suck my tongue." 

Her slick muscle entered his mouth and Prize closed his lips and gently sucked her tongue. Her hand cupped his pectoral muscle and she flicked his nipple. He let her fill him as he relaxed against her warm leg. Her hand drifted lower to caress his stomach muscles. She probed his navel. He nursed on her mouth. His penis rose and brushed her striped skirt. He shuddered. She laid him on the straw and viewed his need and resignation as he looked up at her. She left him there in a new agony to thrust against the dirty straw, an armless thing. 

The time came when the house above was long quiet when all three of Prize's teachers entered the cell. Prize grew cold with dread and stammered out his story. He stood and exposed his body for examination. Miss Liz knelt on the straw before him and kissed his thigh. Halden and March held him in a standing position as Liz gently massaged his balls. She ran her tongue along the underside of his penis and pulled the head into her hot mouth. She withdrew from him.

"Remember what I did with my tongue?"

Prize stared in confusion. Liz again ran her tongue along the silky underside of his penis and gave the tip a little flick. 

"Do you remember what I did?" Prize was forced to his knees and March moved next to Miss Liz. She opened his trousers and kissed his thigh. She ran her tongue up March's shaft. "Now you do it." 

Prize resisted. March smacked his face. Prize tried to escape. Halden held him in place by the arms. Prize showed his teeth and March and Halden inserted leather-covered blocks in his mouth so he could not bite down. His jaw was held open. Leather straps buckled behind his head. March forced his penis into Prize's mouth. It tasted of dirt and urine. 

And the three of them taught Prize to lick and suck as he was licked and sucked. Miss Liz guided him, demonstrated each move on March. Helped Prize mirror her movements. Each failure to master a tongue flick was followed by Halden's heavy strap sending ribbons of fire along Prize's back or chest. He learned to send March over the edge. He learned to tease. He learned to swallow his cum. He learned to keep his mouth soft. In time the blocks were removed.

Prize suffered Halden's beatings and March's humiliations. He repeated his life story in the whorehouse where his mother sold him. He learned his lessons from Miss Liz. How to lick and suck. When to use his teeth. How to open to pain and pleasure. How to be left wanting and incomplete. How to please without being pleased. How to relieve his pain by giving pleasure. 

Mrs. Featherwink walked with a lighter step. She exuded calm. She fell asleep early each morning counting money in her mind. Her future was secure.

During a quiet time upstairs as the whores and extraspecials moved alone to their beds, March entered the cell. Prize struggled to his feet to accept Cruel's instructions. He was told to kneel. Cruel shoved Prize's chest to the cold floor and told him to push his ass in the air. He grabbed the manacled hands and pulled back and up. He kicked Prize's legs apart and positioned his legs between them, holding them spread. Prize panicked and struggled. Cruel pulled back harder on the manacles. Prize felt a cold hand on his buttocks. His crease was stroked. A finger played with his anus. It pushed at the clenched ring. Prize gasped and struggled harder. He tried to fall to his belly and drop his ass. The finger withdrew. Pants opened. Cruel ran his engorged penis down the soft skin between Prize's cheeks. He spit and pushed at the anus. He spit again. Prize screamed and bucked. He only succeeded in pushing himself against Cruel.

The cell door bounced off the wall as Brutal entered. He kicked March in the side. He pulled him from Prize. He shouted and smashed his boot into March in the face. The strap fell as he was dragged out the door. March never entered the cell alone again. Prize never practiced Miss Liz's lessons on March again. Brutal took his place.

But March wasn't gone. During the quiet hours he positioned himself at the cell door and talked to Prize. He told him what he wanted to do to him. What he would do to him. He told him where he was going. He told him a rich man would buy him, and when he tired, he'd sell him. And when the next man was done with him, he would be sold again. In time he there would be a whore house and many men. After that, when he was no longer young enough or pretty enough, the Turtle waited. He told him of being tied to a fuck bench. Of the return of the wooden mouth blocks or removal of his teeth. He told him about bottles, whip handles, iron rods, devices with bulbous heads. He told him how he planned to take him. He told him how he planned to shove his fist up Prize's ass. He told him how patrons would bet on how long it would take him to cum. He talked of blood and animals. He said all this in the lisp he developed after Halden kicked out three of his teeth. He talked until Prize sobbed. He talked until Prize's mind went white with fear. And Prize turned his face to the rough stone wall, dropped the handkerchief, and prayed for death. 

* * *

Halden gave him a beating like none before. Prize gasped out his lessons. He pleaded his history and still the belt descended on his back and legs. He cursed his mother. He begged Halden to let him please him. Prize crawled to meet the blows hoping to do the one thing that would appease Halden. He presented his ass. He lay supine and lifted and spread his legs. The belt licked at his inner thighs. He pushed his ass up to meet the belt. Anything to find the right thing to make it stop. His hands were freed. He wrapped his arms around Halden's upper legs and pressed his cheek against his crotch. And the belt fell on his back. He pushed out his buttocks and the belt continued to fall. He pushed his lips to the rising bulge in the trousers and the beating continued. He was pulled back by the hair. A collar of thick leather clicked tightly around his neck. 

"Your auction number." Halden let an iron disk fall on Prize's neck.

A warm enema bag was pushed into his hands. He fumbled to insert the nozzle. He cleaned himself as Halden watched, tapping the belt in his hand. He met his eyes. He parted his lips and opened his mouth as Miss Liz had taught him to entice Halden. The warm water filled him. He expelled it on the floor and filled himself again. Halden smiled. He ran his middle finger along the inside of Prize's lower lip. Prize maneuvered it into his mouth and sucked. It tasted of grease and dirt. Halden handed him a second bag. Prize smelled lemons. He spread his cheeks with trembling fingers. He fingered his own asshole to help relax the sphincter. He cleaned his rectum twice more. A tub was brought into the room. He stood and let Halden wash him with a rough cloth. He spread his legs. His penis and balls were soaped. The strokes were practiced and firm. The picture of a fine horse being washed by grooms in the stable yard flashed in his mind. He stepped shivering from the tub and stood as Halden rained blows on his chest. 

He was left dazed on clean straw. He was not fed.

In the early morning quiet, light from a bull's-eye lantern caused him to recoil. He began his litany and a hand was clamped across his mouth. He put up a protective arm. A blanket was draped over his bruised shoulders. He was pushed to the door. He recoiled at the threshold and was half dragged half carried into the corridor. Up cold steps. Another door opened. Chill early morning air. An open carriage door. Had he looked up, Prize would have glimpsed Halden swathed in a great cloak, sitting in the coachman's seat. 

He fell to the floor. He saw good boots and trousers made of fine cloth. The door shut and the horses made the carriage jump as they clattered down the alley. He waited on the floor his legs pulled to his chest. 

"You are rescued," came a well modulated voice from the darkness above. A blanket was adjusted to cover him.



The Farm Ch. 03



I went to my bed, laid down, and stared up at the white ceiling. My face was sticky with dried cum and cum was all I could taste in my mouth. I wasn't even hungry. I shut my eyes and hoped I'd fall into a deep sleep from which no one would be able to wake me. But I was fidgety. I absentmindedly played with the ring on my finger, and realized they hadn't taken it from me. I wondered why. Maybe they knew what it meant, like John had known what it meant... John. Was he the reason they found me? It didn't make sense in my mind. He could have just followed me into the woods and taken me himself. And I would probably have gone more willingly.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that he had something to do with this. And I couldn't tell if I hoped or feared that he was the reason I was here.

The loud buzz of the bell disrupted my thoughts. I rose from my brief respite and went to leave, then realized I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I slowly opened my door and heard the sound of other doors opening as well. I then remembered that I was still naked. I gasped and shut the door quickly, though I knew it didn't matter - they were all probably used to seeing each other naked. But I needed something to hide my shame.

I quickly went to the closet and opened it, gasping as I laid eyes on the choices they'd provided. There was even a robe, albeit sheer and completely see-through. I put it on anyway, needing to at least pretend that no one could see my tits, or my pussy, or my ass. Just as I was tying it, someone knocked. Before I could respond, the door swung open and a girl about my height with short black hair, brown eyes, and perky little tits beneath her black babydoll négligé walked in. She looked me over slowly and smiled, licking her lips.

"So you're the new girl. I'm Mindy," she said, holding out her hand.

I reluctantly shook it and replied, "I'm Vivienne. How'd you-"

"We heard Missy giving you the rules in the hall," she answered before I even had a chance to ask. "Nice to meet you."

"You too... "

"I'm on night shift, you won't see me much... maybe."

"Oh?"

I had no idea what to say: So what made you decide to be a whore for these people? How many dicks are inside you per day, on average?

As though she read my mind she said, "You can ask me whatever you want. I love fresh meat. Speaking of, we should go down to dinner. They don't like it when we're late."

"We eat with them?" I asked incredulously. Fresh meat? I thought, embarrassed.

She laughed, "No, not at all! But our timeliness is reported by the guards. Come on, follow me."

I followed her down the hall and she said, "I hope you don't mind me busting in on you like that. You'll learn there's really no privacy here though."

"I'm beginning to see that, yes."

We went down a set of stairs at the opposite end of the hall from where Missy and Liam had brought me up. Two guards were posted there, and they smiled at us lasciviously as we passed them. We descended two flights in silence and exited the stairwell, went through another long hall, and finally reached the dining hall where about a dozen half-naked girls, some quite pregnant, sat on benches around a long, wooden table.

Mindy lead me to the head of the table and presented me to them. "Ladies, this is Vivienne. Vivienne, these are your new sisters."

Sisters? I briefly recalled Liam's comment about his mother's pussy and wondered if everyone was related. I'd just about had it with this place.

Mindy sat me down at the end if the table and took a seat across from me. I was immediately barraged with questions. But before I could even answer one of them, there were plates being set down before us. They were not feeding us some slop as I'd expected. Instead, there was grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed green beans, all perfectly portioned and all smelled very good. I looked up at the three female servants, who by the looks of their white, stained vestiges must have also been the cooks. I saw a messy bush of short, red curls and immediately remembered the woman from the café. The woman turned around and confirmed it: it was her. 

She must have told them. She was the reason I was here. My eyes started burning with rage. The woman looked me over, sneered at me and laughed, "They didn't waste no time with you, did they?"

I didn't know what to say, afraid that if I opened my mouth I would jump up from the table and wring her fat, saggy neck.

"Yeah, I used to be just like you until Andrew's father got a hold of me. You had all that flirtatious talk about slavery with that handsome stranger, but you don't even know the half of it."

"Fuck you. You were never like me," I breathed.

Mindy reached her hand out and gripped my wrist. "Vivienne, don't. You could get punished if you talk back to the servants. They're above us."

"She had me abducted! I'm not here because I chose it, I'm here because those incestuous rednecks abducted me! And she told them about me!"

The woman smiled and replied, "That I did, 'n I got a nice bonus for it, too."

She turned and started following the other servants out the door, and I swiftly picked up my plate and winged it at her. It hit her back and she yelped as it went crashing to the ground. Instantly the guards were upon me, pulling me away from the table. One picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and carried me through the house, down a flight of stairs, and into what can only be described as a dungeon, lit by candles in sconces along the walls and a dim, yellowish overhead light.

The guard set me down wordlessly in front of a cage and opened its door. He just stood there, not even looking at me, waiting for me to crawl into it. It was about four feet long and three feet high, with bars widespread enough for me to at least slip my arms through.

I got on my hands and knees and started crawling in, not wanting to incur anymore punishment as I was unsure of just what the full consequences of my bad behavior would be. The guard grabbed hold of my sheer robe when I was about half-way in and yanked it off me, tearing the fabric from my body and leaving me naked with just a pair of useless sleeves. I shrieked, but he had no compassion. He made me remove the sleeves, too, and I was once again completely naked.

He shut the cage door and attached a rather large padlock to it, then left the room, shutting the door behind him with a bang that echoed in my ears and left me with an abrupt, deafening silence.

I curled up, rested my head on my arms, and wondered if it was good or bad that it wasn't John who lead them to find me. I was relieved and yet disappointed that it wasn't because of him that I was here. If he had been the reason, he might have come for me. Now that hope dwindled.

I'd been here for less than 24 hours yet it felt like days. In less than 24 hours I'd sucked cock five times, eaten pussy once, and had one man jack off on me. I'd been made to cum five times. At least I had that. I was strangely grateful for it. I fell asleep wondering if I'd start measuring the time in sucking and fucking instead of hours and days.

I was being shaken. Someone was shouting at me. I slowly came out of unconsciousness to feel my body being jostled back and forth against the cold metal bars of the cage that surrounded me. I opened my eyes and looked up at Liam, who was standing over my tiny prison and glaring down.

"Finally, she awakens! You know how hard it is to get ya up?"

"Uh-huh... " I muttered, attempting to stretch in what little space I had.

"You were a bad girl last night- Hey! Look at me! Get on your hands and knees!"

My eyes shot up to him from the metal floor. To be honest, I couldn't believe I'd been able to sleep on that, but given how I'd been used the day before, it made some sense. I propped myself up on my hands and knees and asked, "What time is it?"

Liam shook the cage once and said, "You are to address me as Sir, bitch."

I was angry at the rude awakening and responded, "You'd like me to address you as Sir Bitch?"

Liam crouched down, reached through the bars, and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You insult me and I promise your punishment will be far worse than I intend to make it."

"How bad do you intend to make it? Sir."

"You ain't gonna enjoy any of it."

"I didn't expect to, Sir. It's punishment."

He slapped my face and said, "Don't get smart with me. It'll only make things worse."

"Is there anything I can do to make things better, Sir?" I asked coyly, switching gears.

"Nope! Not right now!"

"Why are you punishing me, Sir? Shouldn't it be Missy, or-"

"We're each in charge of different slaves. Lucky for me, you're mine."

"Well that's lucky for me too, Sir, since you're the sexiest, best-looking one of your family - at least, of the men."

"Don't try to flirt your way outta this. I'm not gonna be forgiving until I'm sure you've learned your lesson."

I smiled at him, "Then I'll be sure to learn it as quickly as possible, Sir."

He wasn't having any of it. "I'll say when you've learned it, slut. Now... "

Liam stood up and unzipped his pants, unleashing his hard cock. He stuck it through the bars and commanded, "Suck it."

I crawled forward and leaned in to wrap my lips around his member, but he quickly withdrew it before I could even graze it.

"I said suck it!" he shouted.

I wasn't sure what was happening. "I just- I tried, Sir! You pulled away!"

He said nothing and slid his cock through the bars again, touching my lips with it. The moment I opened them, he pulled away.

"Sir, please!" I plead with him.

"I told you to suck it and you're not doing it."

"You keep pulling away!"

"You are such a contrary little slut. I'm gonna have fun punishing you."

"I'm trying-" I began to insist, but he interrupted me by sliding his cock between the bars again, the tip of its head intruding on my open lips. Again I tried to do what he asked, and slid my tongue against his smooth, salty flesh. But again he ripped it away from me.

"You dumb bitch! Don't you know how to suck cock?"

I felt my frustration begin to knot up in my stomach. My skin was growing hot and my body started to quiver. "Sir, please, you aren't letting me!"

"Like hell I ain't! Tell me I haven't slid my dick through these bars for you to suck it like I know you can!"

"You have but-"

"But what? Did you forget how to suck dick?"

"No, Sir! You keep pulling away!"

"No, slut, you keep failing to do as you're told," he said through his teeth. Then he yelled, "I said suck my cock, bitch!"

He stuck his dick through the bars again and I didn't move an inch. I just looked up at him as he looked down at me.

"Look at those big, hungry eyes," he said tenderly. "I think you wanna suck this cock," he said, waving it in front of me.

"I do, Sir, but-"

"So suck it!"

I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around it, finally getting the full head in my mouth. But just as I thought I had it, he swiftly pulled it from my mouth again, and shook the cage hard.

The knot of frustration in my stomach started entangling every fiber of my being. I was aching, seething, wretchedly desperate. I groaned, 

"Please... please, Sir!"

"Please what?"

"Please let me suck your cock, Sir!" I begged.

"What was that?"

"Please let me suck your cock, Sir!" I said louder.

"I don't think you wanna suck this cock. I think you're a lazy little slut. You ain't working hard enough for it."

"No! I keep trying! Please!"

I seriously didn't know what he wanted me to do. He shook the cage again, harder, throwing me off balance so that I banged against the side. I started doing what I didn't want to do. I cried.

I felt his eyes on me as I wept into my hands. I was unsure of why I was crying. This was just a dumb game. I knew he couldn't cause me any legitimate injury in any way. But I was so frustrated, so confused, that I started doubting whether or not I'd genuinely been trying.

Hadn't I? Each time he penetrated the walls of my prison with his cock, I'd attempted to fellate him. And each time he pulled away. I had no idea what I was doing wrong.

I looked up at him and wept, "What am I doing wrong, Sir?"

He smiled down at me and said, "Ah, now the little slave gets it. What are you doing wrong? You're not ready for me the moment I stick my cock between these bars. You make me wait."

"I don't understand, Sir, I'm ready!"

"Are you? Are you ready to take my cock in your mouth right now?"

And then it clicked. I couldn't believe I'd been so blind, I was angry at myself. I crawled forward until my face was almost touching the bars, and opened my mouth, stuck my tongue out, and waited for him to fill my mouth with himself. But he didn't. He only smiled down at me and said, "Good girl. But you don't get it yet."

"Noo!" I whined. "Please? Please, Sir! Please let me suck your cock!"

"Nope!" he replied, smiling. He reached into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and withdrew a key that he used to unlock the cage. I remained there, my mouth still open, silently begging him to let me suck his dick, almost frantic for it now.

"Crawl outta there and follow me."

I immediately did as I was told, following him to a wooden table on the opposite side of the room.

"First thing's first: go to the bathroom. Crawl. It's right through that door," he said, pointing to a door in the far corner.

As I crawled along the cement floor, my knees aching as they scraped against it, I wondered what was coming over me, why I wanted his cock so much. Was it because he held it just out of reach? A challenge?

I knelt up and turned the knob. As I opened the door I looked back at him. Our eyes met and then I quickly looked away and crawled inside, closing the door behind me.

I relieved myself, washed my hands, and stole a moment to stretch my legs. But it was a moment too long. The door swung open just as I was reaching down to my toes, my asshole and pussy exposed to Liam's eyes.

"Well, well, you are lucky I caught you at such a time because if I wasn't greeted with this lovely view of your cunt I woulda smacked the shit outta you."

I quickly bolted upright, spun around, and dropped to my hands and knees. I looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry, Sir. My legs- they hurt from being in that cage all night."

"When I'm done with you, every part of you is gonna hurt. Especially that nice, pink cunt a yours."

He grabbed a crop from the shelf and before I could respond he struck my ass with it hard. I screamed, and he did it again. And again. And again until I felt nauseated, at which point I whimpered, "Please, Sir. I feel like I'm gonna vomit."

"One more time won't kill ya."

He smacked me with it again and I lurched forward and filled the room with my screams. I felt him swiftly grab me by the waist and lift me up. He placed me gently on the table, but I still sobbed from the pain. He put his forehead to mine, looked me in the eyes and said, "I have to make you see the error of your ways."

"But I do see! I'll never do it again, Sir, I promise!"

"No. You need to be grateful for how you're treated here."

"How can I be-"

He interrupted me with a smack to the face.

"Lay down, spread your arms 'n legs."

I laid down and complied as he placed the cane between my legs and went around the table, tying me tightly. My whole body was exposed to him. I loved it and I hated that I loved it. I wanted his cock and yet I didn't want his cock. I was a mess.

Liam stood over me at my feet, his breathing heavy. He ran his fingers through his long, blond hair and put his hands on his hips. My lust saturated me. I groaned and whimpered, "Don't punish me, Sir. Please fuck me. I want you inside me."

Liam froze and raised his eyebrows, then grabbed the cane.

"No, please! Sir, you can have me, you can have all my holes, just please don't use that!"

"What- you don't like this?" he asked. And he quickly rapped it against my feet, making me twitch and writhe against my restraints. He worked his way up my body with it, a light tap here to make me moan, a hard one there to make me yelp. He slid it across my pelvis, making my back arch and my legs quiver, then smacked my breasts with it hard and made me scream. He slid it back down again, down my sternum, to my belly button, until I realized in horror where he was going.

"Please, Sir! Please don't hit me there!" I cried.

"Sh... " he said, and landed a blow right against my engorged clit. I screamed and he did it again. And then again. And again. I begged him to stop, the pain was too great, and he settled down, sliding the cane against my pussy. He lifted the end to his face and looked it over. It was glazed with my juices. I assumed he would make me clean it off, but instead he shocked me and did it himself, running his tongue over the shining wood as he looked at me.

"My, my, you taste delicious." 

He climbed onto the table and leaned over me then, his face inches from mine, his cock pressing through his jeans against my cunt. "Don't you dare tell anyone I just did that."

I shook my head, "I won't, Sir. I promise."

"Good. Now... " He reached his long fingers down between my widespread legs and dragged them up, dipping into my dripping hole, and up, up, up the space above until he reached my clit. He bit my bottom lip and started working his fingers faster, strumming me like a bass guitar as I gasped and moaned and pulled at the ropes that prevented me from clinging to him. He brought me to the edge and forced me to stay there, stopping cold.

"Noo! Please, Sir!" I sobbed.

He said nothing and stood up. The orgasm he'd denied me lapped at me teasingly. Even the air against my aching pussy mocked my need. I was crazy with desire, almost berserk. I yanked at the ropes and sobbed and begged. He watched me, smiling.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum after what you did? No, you have to pay for your actions, girl. We treat our slaves pretty well here and there you went, actin' like a spoiled brat."

He unzipped his pants and I instantly opened my mouth, waiting to feel him between my lips.

"Ah, very good! You've learned!"

He picked up the cane and walked over to me, holding his big, hard member in his hand. He struck my belly with the cane and as I shrieked, he thrust his cock down my throat, gagging me.

"Look at me when I give you my cock, slut," he ordered, smacking my belly with the cane again.

I looked up at him as he fucked my mouth while I struggled against my gag reflex. Tears dripped out of my eyes and met with the saliva dripping out the corners of my mouth. He grabbed a handful of my hair as I sucked him. He lightly drummed the cane against my nipples and I moaned against him. And then he slid the cane back down to my cunt, and started teasing my clit with it.

"You cum, you spend another day and night in here. Got it?"

"Mhm!" I moaned.

"You sorry for what you did?"

"Mhm!"

"Yeah, I bet you are."

He thrust faster and my climax loomed over me, threatening me, like a riptide I could barely swim out of. I prayed the shore was closer than it appeared.

"You need to cum, dontcha? You poor li'l slut, you wanna gush all over that table, dontcha? Well I gotta secret for ya: I want you to. But I ain't gonna let ya because you were such a bad little bitch. Now I have to deprive you. And I have to deprive myself. Do you see now? Do you see the error of your ways?"

"Mhm!" I practically wept.

"I think you do too... Ungh! I'm gonna cum! You want me to feed you my cum, baby?"

"Mhm! Mhm!"

"Oh god!" he grunted. "Too bad yer bein' punished!"

He wrested his cock from the grip of my lips and left my mouth empty, salivating, yearning for more.

"Please!" I begged, "Please, Sir! Just a drop!"

He shook his head, "Nope. But... " He walked to the end of the table where my feet were and climbed up. He knelt down between my legs and started stroking himself, eyeing my cunt, licking his lips. "I'm gonna cum all over that drippin' wet pussy."




The Farm Ch. 03



I was confused. It sounded like a reward to me. And then I was even more confused about how it sounded like a reward.

And then I saw it and felt it: hot streams of cum hitting my throbbing clit, forcing me to the edge abruptly. I yelped and writhed, my body lifting off the table as far as the restraints would allow as he glazed me with his semen.

I pleaded with him to let me cum, but he refused. He scooped some of his cum up with his fingers, lingering for enough time to push me right back to the edge, and then held it in front of me. I strained and struggled to suck it off, but instead he wiped it on my cheek, just beyond the reach of my tongue. I whimpered and whined, and he laughed.

"You're a needy, cum-hungry little cockslut, aren't ya? I might just breed you myself. Who knows? Maybe some a my semen is working its way up into yer womb right now."

I moaned and pulled on the ropes as I looked up at his smiling face. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and his face was flushed. I asked, "Do you forgive me?"

Liam started walking away and said, "Maybe. I'll let you know later."

He left the dungeon, and I was alone again.



The Farm Ch. 04



Chapter 04: The Cottage

In the earliest hours of the following day, the coach thundered past the cottage where Nanny Grey and her husband lived in retirement. Nanny Grey all but raised Lord Downcliff in a manse not many miles away. She loved him better than anyone. She pampered Gordy as did everyone and scolded him as no one dared. She took pride in his accomplishments and feared for him in his proclivities. She kept his darkest secrets. She and her husband had readied the cottage. 

The cessation of forward movement caused Prize's eyes to open. He lay on his back, uncovered. Moonlight danced on the polished surfaces of the interior of the coach. The face above him was familiar. He wasn't chained. He moved his arm.

"We're here, Prize." The soft blanket settled on his shoulders. "Let me help you inside." 

Prize's legs were unsteady, but the strong arm circling his waist was firm. He leaned against the taller man and walked to the cottage door. Shell drive. Thatched roof. Glow of a peat fire within. Heavy oak door. Inside, Prize sank to the floor by the fire. He looked up into the face of his rescuer. Fine bones, thin lips, arched brow, light-brown eyes. He tried to rise to his feet and present himself as he learned so well at March and Halden's school. His legs failed him. He ended in a bowed genuflect on the hearth rug, one hand curled against his clavicle the other on the floor to steady himself. His eyes burned. His head hammered. He struggled to look again into the face of the well dressed man. He opened his hand across his chest and said, "Prize." He lowered his head.

The hand fell on his head. "Sleep here." 

A chain snaked across wood and stone. A shackle clicked around his ankle. A lamp glowed. 

"Thank you." His arms were free.

"Drink this." Cool water touched his lips and Prize drank. "Lie on the rug. Sleep." Prize felt arms firmly push him to the soft rug. He lay on his back where Gordy placed him and let the heat wash over him. "I'll leave the water here where you can reach it."

Gordy settled himself in an overstuffed chair and stretched his legs. He poured himself a snifter of brandy and let it warm in his hand. Soon he would warm it on a turned shoulder, a muscled chest, the soft skin where leg met groin. Tonight the rounded glass rested against his skin. The foot below the shackle was well formed. The toes straight. Nails trimmed and clean. The iron fit nicely. The leg nicely shaped. Horizontal bruises decorated the inner thigh, veins in marble. The warm glow from the fire illuminated the penis with its beautifully displayed head. The cut was good, low and tight. Ready, exposed, clean, his. More marbling and a tight abdomen with the muscled V next to the jutting hip bones. Gordy sipped his brandy and watched the chest expand slowly with each inhalation. The nipples were pink and alive in the lamp glow. Pierce them? Little weights. Hoops of gold. A bar with rubies on each side. A chain from nipple to nipple to tug and twist. Not yet. He resisted the urge to pour his brandy into the hollow of Prize's throat. To sip the burning liquid. To taste his skin and fear. The line of the jaw was well defined and the cheekbones high. 

Prize stirred on the rug. His lips parted. His pink tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. His eyes moved beneath closed lids, a dream invaded the sleep. An arm came up to cover the face. A soft moan and Prize turned on his side to protect his belly and genitals. The chain rattled softly. He settled, a cheek resting on his forearm. He breathed more softly. The dream fled. His buttocks, his ass, Gordy's ass now, displayed the stripes of his last beating. It was as firm an ass as Gordy remembered and it would fit nicely in his hand. It would rise to meet his caresses and his smacks. The best lay hidden deep within the double globe.

Instructions, specific instructions coupled with dire threats, lay with Mrs. Featherwink not to stretch the anus and not to tear the rectum. Mold his mind. Make his body conform, but don't fuck his ass. He had pinched those powdered and rouged cheeks and bounced her head against the red flocked wall to drive home his point. He told her how he planned to destroy her future if she failed him. Her long lower lip had trembled as violently as her chins when she nodded her understanding. Gordy finished his brandy and rose from his chair to ready himself for bed. 

The chain clinked again. The returning dream caused Prize to move again on the floor. Gordy turned to watch. Pain flicked across Prize's face. He half rose from the rug. His eyes went wide in terror. Gordy moved toward him to ease him back to sleep, but stopped when he saw that the eyes did not see the room. He returned to the chair to watch the pantomime played out by his somnambulist. The strain of tendons, the roll of muscles. Prize arched his back, he turned and flinched at dream straps. He cried and pleaded silently. His arms strained behind his back, his wrists pressed together. He fell panting to the rug covered in sweat. Tears wet his cheeks. Gordy pulled a blanket over his own legs and slept on the couch ready to wake if another dream came.

The sound of the chain rolling on the floor woke Gordy. He knew Prize couldn't reach him even at the length of the twenty-five iron links he was given. There was power still in his acquisition's body not more than he could subdue if needed, but why put things to chance. He was there; sitting back on his heals holding the chain before him on his open palms. Prize held the chain out to him.

"You're awake, good." He saw the question in Prize's eyes. "Do you remember what I told you last night?" No answer. "The chain is to protect you. To stop you from being taken, not to keep you from going." He stepped closer and lifted the dark links from the outstretched hands and set them on the Persian rug. 

Prize moved to his knees and looked up; reached for Gordy's hand. He pressed his forehead to the back of the hand and turned it over. He pressed his lips to the palm. "Forgive me, Sir." His voice was well modulated, soft.

"Your thoughts are confused." The hair on Gordy's arms stood up. "I have breakfast." Nanny Grey's basket waited outside the heavy door as arranged. Gordy placed it on a low table and pulled back the linen cloth. Fresh bread, sliced ham, cheese, butter, jam, a bottle of wine, and a small brown bottle of laudanum just if needed. Plates and silverware, a knife for the bread and cheese, a small jug of milk. Prize returned to his squat on the floor. His eyes followed each food idem as it left the basket. Gordy sliced off the heel off the bread and set it aside. He was hungry after the trip. He fixed himself a ham sandwich and cursed when he couldn't find the mustard. "Put some more peat on the fire." Prize carefully stacked three bricks on the embers and returned to wait. Without mustard the sandwich was still good. Gordy chewed slowly and slid a few glances toward Prize. Much thinner than the last time he saw him. Hair longer. So much more beautiful. Gordy wiped his fingers on a napkin and picked up the heel of bread and tossed it to Prize. It landed near his feet. Prize tensed but didn't move. "You can eat." A hand moved toward the bread. "Pick it up and eat." 

As Prize jerked to comply his chain caught on the half-filled bowl of water Gordy had left on the rug spilling it. The bread stopped on the way to Prize's mouth. He reached out and tried to scoop up the water; he rubbed his wet hand on his arm and tried to get more of the water from the rug. He took his bread and used it to sop the water. Gordy watched in fascination as the sodden bread began to fall apart. Prize picked the fragments from the rug and began shoving them in his mouth. Hunger superseded by the need to please. 

"Stop." Prize halted his hand, bread touching his lips. He looked up at Gordy. He lowered his hand to his side and waited. "No, eat." 

Prize hid his confusion then moved to his knees, placed his hands behind his back, and bent to lift the mess from the rug with his lips. Gordy tossed him a slice of ham. Prize stretched forward and took the food from the floor with his lips. The slice was too large to be taken in one bite and hung from his mouth as he chewed. The sight disgusted Gordy. "Drop it." He tossed a smaller piece of ham. Prize picked it up tentatively with his lips and pulled it into his mouth and chewed. "Move away from that mess." Prize complied.

March used to play this game with Prize. Food out of reach. Food in his mouth and forced to spit it on the straw. Water spilled past his lips. Eat from March's dirty hand. Watch March eat. Eat the food on which March spilled his cum. Prize knew how to wait. He knew how to avoid pinches and slaps. He looked at Gordy and waited. He kept his hands folded in the small of his back. His stomach ached with hunger.

Gordy could resist no longer to further test Prize's training; he moved a dinning chair to the Persian carpet. "Come by me." He tapped his knee and Prize moved slowly from the carpet on the palms of his hands and balls of his feet ready to spring in any direction to avoid a blow. He moved to the length the chain allowed and slid to his knees. Gordy fed him with his own hand and lifted the last of the milk to his lips. He didn't slap and he didn't torment. He wiped the full lips. He had a raging hard on. He fought to control himself. He looked around the room to put his eyes anywhere but on the battered man at his knee.

The room was comfortable. Good furniture, thick rugs. A sideboard with pewter chargers. Glass in the widows and heavy drapes. A strong dining table with six chairs. Peat by the door. Stairs to the bed chambers. Better not think of that. A locked armoire stocked by Gordy. No hint of Nanny Grey there. Better not think of that either. It was a beautiful play place. Candles of bees wax. A shining kettle for the fire. His erection softened enough to let him get to his feet. Gordy left Prize by the chair and stepped out to make water. He looked out over the fields of his little farm. His pleasure farm.

When he returned, he lifted a key from his pocket. "Remember, there are those who are hunting for you."

"Am I safe here?"

"I'll see you don't go back to the cell and as long as you follow the rules, no one will find you."

"Am I safe here?"

"I will keep you from them, but you must obey to me." Gordy bent to unlock the shackle. "No one will come here today. Will you follow my instructions? Will you keep yourself out of harm?" Prize nodded. "Step into the light by the window. Let me examine your hurts."

The shackle fell to the floor and Prize rose to his feet and stood in the light. He planted his feet on the bare boards. He stood tall, extended his arms out from his sides and fixed his eyes on a distant point. He stood like a battered copy of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Gordy took in the bruising on his chest and stomach. He ran his finger across his ribs and the thin, white scar. He saw the evidence of fine stitching. He walked behind him to appreciate the crisscross of welts on his ass and thighs. He cupped his ass with one hand as he knew he could. The back and broad shoulders indicated the strength of the man, but physical strength without the will to use it was no danger. Gordy slid his arm around the trim waist and listened to the sharp intake of breath. He ran his hand up to the chest and felt the heart beat fast. Fear? 

"Will you rape me now?" came a whisper.

"Were you raped in the cell?"

"No." Prize thought of how close it had come to that.

"I won't rape you."

"I'm Prize. My mother sold me to provide pleasure. Teach me what will pleasure you."

Hot tears fell on Gordy's hand. The heart fluttered under his palm. He could wait no longer. "Go wash yourself at the well. Relieve yourself and return here. We'll explore your duties. And Prize, watch for strangers." Gordy handed him a cloth and soap.

Prize walked boldly to the well. He did not ask for clothes or blanket. Gordy stood in the doorway and watched as he drew the water and rinsed his body. He glistened in the light. He washed himself first with his hands. He soaped the cloth and ran it over his body. He soaped his penis and balls. He spread his cheeks and washed the deep crack. He rinsed and returned to the door. Water dripped from his hair. He inclined his head and waited for Gordy to take his arm and lead him back to the warm fire. He stood before him.

"You will hurt me, Sir." 

"You will find pleasure in my pleasure. You will be free to enjoy your body." Gordy shut the door and moved to the overstuffed chair. "Come here." And Prize moved warily to him, his eyes cast down. "Kneel here, Prize, between my legs." He did and clasped his hands at the small of his back. Gordy urged him to turn until his hip and shoulder presented themselves to Gordy. He placed a hand on Prize's smooth chest and urged him back against the warm thigh. Prize let his lips part as Miss Liz taught him. Gordy kissed him. He darted his tongue past the full lips and explored the mouth that opened soft and warm. The lips closed on his tongue and Prize began to suck. His tongue remained soft, accepting of probing. Gordy raised his hand to the line of the jaw. He grew hard. He let Prize draw at his mouth. He lifted him to his feet and pulled him onto his lap and laid him so his head rested in the crook of his arm. Their lips remained sealed. He pulled away and looked into the blue eyes. He saw the fear sparkle on the blue irises. Gordy adjusted Prize's legs, slightly spread over the arm of the chair. He bent and kissed the flat nipples. He blew cool air on them and they grew hard. Prize lifted his head to Gordy's ear and gently closed his teeth and gave a gentle tug.

Gordy pulled free. He spilled Prize to the floor. "Never do that." 

Prize looked up at him in fear. "Never." He closed his eyes to the expected slap. He quivered. He waited his chest displayed. The hands still clasped. His head bent back his neck exposed. When the slap didn't come, when no belt descended on his chest, when he feared something worse, Prize whispered, "Don't return me to them." 

"Lie on the sofa." He moved with grace and settled on his back. "Bend your knees." He did. "Open your legs." He did slowly.

Gordy bent to the parted lips and kissed him. He reached down and grasped the cut penis and pulled. He cupped the balls. Prize sucked at his tongue. His legs opened farther. Softly Gordy ran his finger tips along the silky skin where the upper leg met the groin. He ran his fingers along the soft flesh and stroked the tender skin between the balls and anus. The sucking intensified. The penis rose. Gordy pulled himself free to enjoy the picture. He thought he would have to bind him with ropes, but Prize held his arms at the small of his own back, and that was more beautiful than ropes. His heels touched as he drew up his knees. He lay like a sacrifice on the sofa. He his breathing became quick and shallow. His pelvis thrust slightly. His stomach muscles rolled. He was need and fear. The bruises darkened as the blood flowed hot. Gordy ran his fingers across the chest, pausing to flick the left nipple until Prize moaned. He bent and kissed the muscles across Prize's stomach and licked the strap marks there. He thrust his tongue into the navel and returned to the mouth. He slowly ran his hand up inside of the thigh and back to the satin skin between leg and groin. He stroked the hardening penis. He sucked on the pink nipples. 

And Prize lay like a warm, living statue for his use, his blue eyes fixed on the beamed ceiling. Gordy pushed the legs up toward Prize's chest and out. He reached down and stroked the buttocks and pinched at the welts. He felt the muscles tighten beneath his fingers as he pulled them apart to examine the anus. At the first touch there was a coiling in the man before him, a readiness for flight or fight. Gordy looked in to Prize's face, "I will not rape you, but you must submit." He drew his finger around the opening and waited for Prize to accept his touch there. He wanted to drive dry into the anus. He wanted to make Prize buck and scream, but not yet. He reached again for the penis and stroked. Enough for now. He removed his hands and stepped back.

Gordy loosened his trousers and pushed them down. He unbuttoned his small clothes and freed his erection. He pulled Prize to the floor, to kneel with his back to the sofa. He pushed his erection against the full lips. They parted. The relaxed tongue rubbed on the sensitive glands. The lips closed and the suction began. Firm warm lips surrounded his shaft. Prize's head moved back and forth. The head of his penis grazed the rippled roof of Prize's mouth. Gordy pushed in farther, and he was taken to the pubic bone. The sweet suction continued. Gordy pulled back and Prize kissed the swollen head. He ran his lips down the side and planted soft kisses. His tongue flicked against the shaft like butterfly wings. He licked Gordy's balls and slowly pulled them into his mouth. He licked the underside of the penis from base to head. Gordy thrust back into Prize's mouth. The throat contracted around the head. He pulled back until the tip remained in Prize's mouth. The quick tongue explored the slit. The lips maintained delicious pressure. Again Gordy thrust himself to the back of Prize's mouth. Gordy came. He grabbed the black hair and emptied himself of waiting, of the long coach ride, of the waking dream before the fire, of the rattle of the chain. He let himself grow soft in Prize's mouth on the cupped tongue and still Prize sucked. Gordy pulled himself free and collapsed on the sofa. Prize turned to kiss his inner thigh. Gordy pushed him away and watched Prize gasp for air and push his pelvis at nothing. His nipples stood out like seed pearls. He flushed pink from his groin to hairline. His lips were fuller from the friction of Gordy's shaft. He was yearning. He was shame. He was fear.

"Get water, cool water, and a soft cloth." Prize rose and carried a bowl to the well. He returned still hard. "Wash me." He was gentle. He stayed hard. He bathed his thighs and shaft. He rinsed the cloth and laid it on the hot skin below Gordy's navel. "Pull my trousers up. Help me dress." Prize did. Dust motes danced in the sunshine. Gordy circled the base of the penis and pressed his thumb against Prize's balls. He grew hard again. And when Gordy removed his hand, Prize knelt and moved his hands to the small of his back. The kettle whistled on the fire. "Make me tea." Prize moved to fulfill his request. He offered Gordy a cup and watched him sip. He stayed hard. Gordy stroked the velvet skin encasing the rod of iron. A clear bead formed on the head. Prize moaned. Gordy slapped the penis. "Step out and relieve your tension." Prize did.

He felt sweaty and clammy and tired. "You'll find a wooden tub by the door. "Heat water for my bath."

The Prize filled the tub and helped Gordy strip. His shirt stuck to the sweat on his back. He lowered himself into the steaming water. Prize soaped the soft cloth and bathed him gently. Gordy's muscles relaxed. He was rinsed and dried. Prize helped him dress. He carried the water to the door step and emptied it bucket by bucket until he could pull the tub out. He returned to the fire and sat on the rug, waiting for his next instruction. He reached for the shackle and snapped it closed on his right ankle. As Gordy's eyelids slid shut, his last view was of Prize sitting cross legged before the fire.



The Farm Ch. 04



I laid there in the silence, still restrained. Liam's cum slid down my pussy as if to taunt me and provoke me into cumming. But I wouldn't. I knew I was being watched, I knew there had to be cameras in there.

But then, maybe not. When Liam had licked my juice of the cane he'd told me not to tell anyone. If he wasn't supposed to be doing that because they didn't yet know I was clean, then perhaps no one could see what was happening in this room. I found it strange that there wouldn't be any cameras here if they were everywhere else.

Or maybe he'd only said that to plant a seed in my head that there were no cameras, to see how I would behave when I believed I wasn't being watched.

But his cum coated my cunt, dripped over my clit, meandered down my pink folds . . . I pulled at the ropes, trying to mitigate the sensation. My pussy throbbed, my body tingled and I strained it and stretched as much as I could, trying to focus on other things.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Liam walked through it. He carried with him a plate of apple slices and peanut butter. Setting the plate at the curve of my waist he looked down at me and asked, "How is my little slut doing?"

"I need to cum, please, Sir!" I said through my teeth.

"Hmm... I bet. But I ain't gonna let you cum. I will, however, let you eat. You must be starving."

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until he said it. I nodded and looked away, expecting to have to beg for food.

Liam undid the ropes that bound my wrists and let me sit up. He left my ankles bound so that my legs were still splayed. I slid down the table so that I could bend them, and moaned as I felt his cum continue to tease my pussy.

Liam chuckled and said, "Open your mouth."

I opened my mouth and he fed me a slice of apple with some peanut butter on it. I bit into it as I looked at him and chewed it rapidly. At least one urge was being relieved. I swallowed and said, "Thank you, Sir."

"We ain't monsters, you know. We do treat our slaves like human bein's, even if they are whores. We like our girls to be healthy. We make better money that way."

So noble. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes and instead took another bite of the apple. He watched me silently as he fed me, and finally picked up the last slice of apple from the plate. This one had no peanut butter on it.

He got on top of the table and sat in between my legs. "Look at all that cum I left on ya. You like feeling my jizz trickle down your pussy?"

Before I could answer he pressed the apple slice to my clit and started scooping up his cum. I moaned and tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but that was futile. He slid the apple slice back and forth, up and down, coating it with our fluids.

"I bet you really need to cum now, dontcha?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to cum for him, or any of them anymore. He slid the apple slice all over my pussy until it was thoroughly covered in his semen, and then reached out and held it to my lips. I looked at all the cum dripping off it and turned my head away.

"Eat it! I know you're a cum hungry little slut. Eat it!" He pressed it to my lips and I opened my mouth and took a bite. The saltiness of his cum mingled with the sweetness of the apple and my pussy. Cum dripped down my lips with the juice of the apple. I licked it away and took another bite.

"How's it taste?" he asked, smiling wickedly.

"Like a cum-covered apple, Sir," I replied with my mouth still full. "Why don't you try some?"

Liam laughed and said, "You're funny. Now finish it."

He shoved the remainder of the apple slice into my mouth and I swallowed it down, barely chewing, thinking that if this had been almost anyone else - if it had been John doing this to me - I'd have obliged with no reservations, even asked for more. If I'd been given a choice, I'd be fine with all this.

Liam untied the ropes at my ankles and made me get on all fours. He attached a leash to my neck and pulled me to the door, saying, "I'm gonna give you a tour of where you'll be fuckin' 'n suckin' all day."

"But- you don't know if I'm clean yet."

"We'll know soon enough."

I bowed my head and looked down at the floor, saying nothing. Liam tugged at the leash. I crawled behind him, trying to keep up as he pulled me in his long stride. We exited from a door in the basement and he made me crawl up a set of concrete stairs. I went as fast as I could, my knees scraping all the way to the soft grass up top.

The sun blared down on my naked body, and I squinted as he pulled me along across the dirt road. I was getting filthy and trying not to breathe in the dust that Liam kicked up as he walked. My initial shock seemed to be melting away in the hot sun, and I realized that in the back of my mind I'd been hoping things would get better. 

He tugged me along, showing me the wooden stables, each stall containing a whore like me getting fucked in one hole or another, or getting punished. The ones who weren't being used were languidly resting on flat, dirty mattresses. A chorus of moans and screams and grunts filled the stagnant air. This was my fate. This would be my existence day in, day out, for the rest of my life. What would they do with me when I was no longer desirable? Would I turn into that woman from the cafe?

A cop came out of one of the stalls and looked me over. I gasped and froze. Liam looked back at me and laughed, "Relax, the cops come here all the time. They get you girls for free. Hey, Officer Scott, how are ya? I'd shake yer hand but I just fed this little wench one of my candy apples."

Officer Scott looked me over and laughed. "God damn cum whores, man. I wish I'd known you'd be bringin' this one out, I'da dumped my load in 'er instead."

"Well, she's not quite cleared yet. We should know by this evenin' whether she's a keeper. But I tell you, she has got one nice, hot, juicy pussy. The doc's expeditin' the tests."

"Glad to hear it." Officer Scott crouched down and looked me in the eye and said, "I'm gonna cum deep in that cunt a yours, slut." Then he stood up and said to Liam, "Y'all have a good day. Keep that bitch in line, she's got fire in her eyes."

I did have fire in my eyes, but it was because my tears were burning them, and as Officer Scott walked away they started dropping onto the dry soil beneath me. Liam's shadow loomed over me and he said, "You finally broke, huh. I was wonderin' when that'd happen."

He pulled me to my feet and I saw my legs were caked with dirt, my knees were scraped and bleeding, and the palms of my hands dirty and red. I wept uncontrollably, shamelessly, and he scooped my filthy, used body up. His hands grabbed my ass as I wrapped my arms and legs around him, buried my face in his neck, and screamed. I could barely breathe. I clung to him even though I didn't want to, because I couldn't do anything else.

"Shh...calm down. We'll get you cleaned up and you can rest. You did good," he said with some alien tenderness in his voice.

"Am I supposed to be ha- happy about that?" I cried.

"You've got a choice: you can either be here and be miserable about not wantin' ta be here, or you can be here and be happy about wantin' ta be here."

"But I don't wanna be here! Is that what you tell all the women here? To lie to themselves?"

"No. We tell them just what I told you."

I couldn't even wrap my head around it. So these girls weren't here of their own free will like Missy had said? I was so confused. But my confusion was drowned out by hopelessness.

He carried me away and back into the house, up the stairs, and into a large communal bathroom, which was luckily empty. I didn't even want my fellow whores to see me like this.

He set me down on my feet and I stood there crying uselessly as he turned on a shower. He took my hand gently and walked me over to the open stall.

"Get in. I'll follow ya."

My head was swimming under the water that cascaded through my hair and down my aching body. I thought about inhaling it and drowning myself as I stared at the black and white tiled wall in front of me. And then I felt Liam's naked body press against mine, and a soapy washcloth was being massaged over my breasts. He dragged it down my belly, and in between my legs where he lingered, slowly scrubbing the wet terrycloth against my ass and my pussy. He turned me around to face him and crouched down. I watched him through my bleary eyes as he washed my legs. He kissed the scrapes on my knees. He gently picked one leg up, then the other, and washed my feet. I was so confused by the kisses to my knees that I was almost numb to the ticklishness of the washcloth as he scrubbed my feet.

"Do you like this?" he asked as he put more soap on the washcloth and continued bathing me.

"Um...I dunno. Why does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

What the fuck? I wanted to scream. But I couldn't. He'd dropped the washcloth, put his hands on my waist, and had started kissing my belly.

"You're fucking crazy! You can't!" I breathed as his tongue meandered its way down to my pussy.

"Sh . . . I wanna taste you so bad. Oh god, Vivienne!"

He pushed me against the wall and plunged his tongue between my legs. He murmured, "You're so fucking wet, tell me you like this. Tell me you wanna be here right now. I know you do."

"You're not- you're- cameras!" I managed to spit out as he licked and sucked at my clit. He shoved two fingers inside me and fingered me hard.

"Fuck the cameras, Vivienne. I wanna make that sweet, delicious pussy cum."

He continued his ministrations inside me and against my throbbing clit. My mind swirled like the water that was going down the drain. I grabbed a fistful of his long blond hair and came violently, bracing myself with my other hand against the slippery wall as I watched him drink the cum from my squirting pussy like it was a fountain.

"Oh! Oh god! Fuck me!" I groaned, though it was not a request. At least, I don't think it was. I don't really know what was going on in my head.

But he stood up, spun me around, and drove himself inside me, my pussy still pulsating from my orgasm. I gasped and yelped as he fucked me hard. He grabbed onto my breasts and squeezed them, kissed and bit my neck, and growled, "Tell me you wanna be here."

"I- I- ungh! Sir!" I sobbed.

"You gonna cum all over my dick? Tell me you wanna be here 'n I'll let ya. Tell me you wanna be here, Vivienne."

"Please!"

He pulled my hair and smacked my face. "Do you wanna get punished again? Tell me you wanna be here."

"I- oh! Oh god!"

He grabbed my jaw. "Say it."

"I wanna- I wanna be here!"

"Cum, you fucking whore."

I came again, hard enough to push him out of me, but he drove himself right back in and gripped my waist firmly as I shuddered against him.

"Good girl," he whispered in my ear. "I'm gonna cum inside you now."

"Noo! Please, Sir!" I pleaded.

"Don't be ungrateful, slut. I know you're gonna like it."

My cunt was being filled with his hot, viscous fluid and I could feel his cock throbbing and pumping it inside me. I was beside myself with how good it felt, and another orgasm crashed over me rapidly. I screamed and moaned as my release squirted out of me, and I was tethered between satisfaction and shame. He held my quivering body steady as I came down and caught my breath, and pulled out slowly, his cum trickling after.

He turned off the water and made me get on my knees to clean him off. I licked our fluids off of him thoroughly as I looked up at him. He was smiling, petting my hair, cooing, "Good girl."

I took his cock into my mouth to suck the rest of our cum off him. He pulled me to my feet and asked, "Did you like it?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Will you behave at dinner tonight?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And will you tell everyone you want to be here like they do?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl. Let me get you a towel."

He retrieved a towel and started drying me off, careful to avoid my cum-dripping cunt. He made me keep that. I asked, "Sir, won't you get in trouble?"

Liam laughed, "Nope. If you're dirty, you're mine outright."

I was stunned, half-flattered, and half-terrified that he would risk an STD - any possible STD - just to claim me. I knew I was clean, but he had no idea.

He added, "Don't worry. I don't do this with all the girls. You're special."

I was confused but I just smiled and said, "Thank you, Sir."

He finished drying himself off, put his clothes back on, and walked me to my room. As we parted he kissed me gently on the forehead and said, "We'll see ya later."

I walked into my room, didn't bother to close the door, and laid down on my bed. Some of his cum had reached my thighs and without a second thought I reached down, scooped some up, and sucked it off my fingers. I liked the way he tasted.

The bell for dinner rang and this time I was ready, albeit nervous. Mindy came into my room as I put on a red, lacy négligé and we walked down to the dining hall together. I didn't dare bring up Liam.

As we sat down to eat, I ignored the woman from the cafe - even as she walked by me and hissed that I was a dirty whore. When Mindy quietly asked about my being abducted, I ignored the concern in her eyes. I took a bite of my food and simply said, "I wasn't. I want to be here."



The Farm Ch. 05



Straw and Kabul

They fell into an easy rhythm in the thatched cottage. Food appeared at the door each morning. Prize carried water and cleaned the well furnished rooms. He fed and watered the mare in the small stable though the odor of damp straw riddled him with fear. He knelt at Gordy's side as he read or worked at his desk. 

They moved to the bedroom up the polished wooden stairs. Gordy slept in the bed. Prize slept on the hearth. Gordy demanded much and Prize gave more. He kissed Gordy's thighs and opened his lips each morning to accept Gordy's erection. That was his goal. He made the tea. He lay supine and relaxed as Gordy sipped brandy from the hollow of his throat. His bruises faded from purple to yellow. He waited until he was called. He was teased and examined. He relieved his straining cock if Gordy sent him out to do so. He started a kitchen garden. He feared the locked armoire that stood by the front window; the one Gordy opened with a large key and spent too much time touching the objects that lay within. And he feared the day Gordy applied those objects. He became an object in Gordy's cottage. He was not beaten nor slapped. 

He was not loved.

* * *

Gordy sat tipped back in his chair by the blue kitchen door and watched as Prize turned the soil, planted, weeded, watered bucket by bucket from the well, and smiled as the tender shoots broke through the dark earth. The sun glistened on Prize's skin. His skin turned from marble to ale. His muscles hardened. He put on a bit of weight. His pubic hair grew soft and fine. At evening he came to the sitting room washed and fresh. He clicked the shackle to his ankle and sat cross legged on the rug. He waited while Gordy ate his dinner at the sturdy table. He crawled to eat from his hand, his hands clasp in the small of his back. Gordy kept his word and did not rape Prize. And Gordy felt ennui grow.

The morning started badly. The solicitor's papers in the basket sent up by Nanny Grey held nothing but tedium. Gordy threw them aside. He tried to clear his head by watching Prize at the well filling buckets for the garden. At first the sight of his strong shoulders moving under the collarless cotton smock intrigued Gordy, but his interest drifted. He gazed at the sky and saw darkening clouds gathering. He felt himself anger that Prize drew water when rain was imminent. He returned to the cottage and tried to put his mind to his papers again, but the words swam. He picked up a slim volume of poetry, but the verses fell flat. He walked the room laying his hand on this object or that, but nothing pleased him. He listened to the sounds of Prize working in his garden, but the sound of the shovel turning the soil rubbed his nerves raw. 

The tea was cold. There was dust on the sideboard. The rug looked faded. The food Prize placed before him was dull. Gordy was tired of eating from hampers. He left the food untouched and moved to the sofa and picked up his book and tossed it back down. He called Prize to him.

"Pour me a sherry." Gordy looked at his writing desk and the papers strewn across it. Prize handed him his drink. Gordy set it aside without tasting it. Prize waited. "What are you waiting for?" His harsh voice caused Prize to step back suddenly and reach under his shirt for the drawstring of the thin cotton paints he wore. The gestured caused Gordy to jump toward him in anger. He knocked his glass from the table and sherry spilled on the cuff of his trousers and boot. "Look what you did." Prize reached forward with the hem of his shirt to sop up the liquid. "We have napkins and cloths for that. Don't you have any sense?" Prize stopped, dead still. He looked questioningly at Gordy and moved to pick up the napkin next to the uneaten lunch. "Did I tell you to do that?"

Prize looked at him in startled confusion, "But?"

That one word broke the dam in Gordy. The papers unread, the isolation, the cold food, the bit of dust, and flat poetry. "But!" He lunged at Prize and grabbed him by the back of his neck. "But!" He pushed Prize across the room to the armoire. "You say but to me." 

In his fear and confusion, Prize resisted. Gordy felt his anger boil over. The armoire unlocked and the doors flung open. Gordy reached inside and pulled out the collar with the iron disk. He thrust it into Prize's face. "Remember this?"

Prize remembered it well and the sight of it struck to the heart of his fears. He nodded. The collar clicked quickly around his neck. The iron disk cold on the hollow of his throat. The cold spread to the place in his memory where Brutal, Cruel, Miss Liz, and the straw-strewn cell resided. Prize stepped backwards and landed sprawled on the floor. He tried to wriggle away, but Gordy grabbed him by the loose shirt and pulled him back to the armoire and drew out a riding crop. He slashed once, catching Prize on the back of the shoulder as he tried to escape. He drew blood, a thin line of red seeped through the cloth as both men held still in stunned silence. Outside a lark started its song. It was an act without thought or plan. It was graceless. Gordy threw the crop from himself as if to distance himself from the act. Prize touched the wound on his back. He looked up at Gordy and extended his blood smeared hand.

The gesture was simple, but Gordy took it as an accusation and his anger and frustration returned fiercer and hotter than before. The bloodied hand pushed him in opposition of his inclination. He never used his crop on the mare. Yet he bloodied Prize without plan or thought. He left him kneeling stunned on the floor and turned to the armoire and withdrew a pair of manacles. 

"Give me your wrists." Prize did and the irons clicked in place. His whole body sagged in resignation and fear. Gordy wrapped his hands around the chain and pulled. "Stand up, you stupid whore." Prize moved shakily to his feet and looked into Gordy's eyes. "Don't look at me like that. What did you expect?" Gordy pulled forth a fat, leather-sheathed dildo and pushed it in Prize's face. He pressed it to Prize's mouth. "Take it. Open your mouth and take it." Prize pressed his lips together and turned his head. "Do you want me to shove it up your ass?"

Prize shook his head and parted his lips. "Please, no." Nothing more. He looked with despair directly into Gordy's eyes and parted his lips.

"Easy, isn't it." Gordy dropped the dildo. It made a dull sound as it hit the floor and rolled a few degrees to the left. 

One more reach into the armoire produced a chain and shackle. "Come." And Prize took a few awkward steps; Gordy pulled him through the doorway to the front garden, over the drive, to the well where he stumbled. Gordy grasped the back of his neck again and propelled him forward toward the stable. The shackle chain chimed merrily. "Move." 

Prize tried but his knees were pudding. Every muscle in his body recoiled from moving. He wanted to break free and run. His mind held him tighter than the chains. He staggered like a drunk towards the dark interior of the stable. Gordy pushed him into the first stall and sent him sprawling into the straw. The mare in her stall snorted in surprise. Prize scuttled away to place his back to the rough wall. His loosened pants trucked down to his knees by his retreat. Gordy advanced on him. Prize raised his wrists to cover his face. His body wanted to bring the iron manacles down on the crown of Gordy's head. To split his skull but his mind cringed and the wrists and hands moved to protect his own face and head. His pants were yanked off and the shackle snapped on. The chain looped around the base of a support beam and locked in place. 

Gordy glowered down at him and surveyed the scene. The shirt was drawn up exposing one buttock. The shoulder with the spreading red stain turned toward him. The turned face filled with anguish. "Don't say a word. Don't look at me." Averted eyes.

Gordy took the mare from her stall and saddled her. He slipped her bridle over her head and slipped the bit into her mouth. He stroked her neck to stay the trembling in his hands and said something soft and led her from the stable. He didn't look back at the half-naked man in the straw.

The mare cantered easily down the grade. Two cows lifted their heads to contemplate the passing horse and chew their cud. Tiny puffs of dust hung in the air at her passing. A hawk circled on the updrafts caused by the darkening clouds. A tidy cottage came into view beyond the bend and a small copse of laurel at the bottom of the hill. Nanny Grey stood at the gate, a hamper of food on her arm. Her husband stood in the stable yard harnessing the pony to its cart.

"Master Gordy, Lord Downcliff, what brings you here? My man and I were just on our way to deliver your supper." She lifted her hand from the gate and waved to the old man in a worn cap. "Come take Lord Downcliff's horse, William. Master Gordy, you look a state. Come inside and sit." She steered him by the elbow up the path and into a tidy room. "Sit here." She guided him to a worn horsehair chair. "You're flushed. I pray not's a miss."

Gordy collected himself. "Just out for a ride. I thought I'd stop for a little visit and see what gossip you wanted to share and perhaps spare you the trip."

"Let me make you a cup of tea." She placed a practiced hand to Gordy's forehead. "You're nay over warm." 

"Don't fuss, Nanny. I've only stopped to save you a trip. Oh, I said that. Tell me the news."

Nanny Grey made him wait while she made tea and sliced a seed cake. She poured and offered him a slice. "Still milk, no sugar." She smiled. "The folk do wonder at what someone like you's doing up there all summer. I told them you's writing poetry and painting landscapes. And what's that word you used? Oh yes, living a pastoral life." She smiled and patted his knee. "It's all going well, Master Gordy? And your guest. He's well?"

"He's doing better, Nanny. I hope to be able to move him to London soon."

"You're a dear friend to care for him so." William could be heard scraping his boots at the kitchen door. "The hubby is in for his supper. Will you stay? Sure your friend will get along without you for a bit."

Gordy smiled ruefully and accepted the invitation. William stabled the mare and the three of them settled in for lamb stew and warm bread in the kitchen as the wind began to blow cold. Their small talk was interrupted by a flash and clap of thunder.

"There, you can't go out in this filthy weather. I'll fix you a bed on the sofa. I won't take no."

Exhausted from his anger and warmed by the company and stew, Gordy let his old nanny ready the sheets and blankets. And when he moved to the sofa calm at last, she moved to pull a blanket up around his shoulder, and he laughed and stopped her. He slept as the wind whipped the laurel branches and the rain dripped off the thatch.

Prize lay on the straw under the open window and watched the sky turn from pewter to iron. His shoulder throbbed and the manacles chaffed his wrists. He grew cold and tried to pull the straw over his legs though the touch and odor of it repelled him. He found little warmth. The iron tag on the collar felt heavy on his neck. He studied the polished tack on the far wall. Each in its place. Each well cared for. He smelled the leather mixed with horse, and straw. He tried not to listen for the sound of the mare returning or cart wheels on the shell drive.

The wind blew unseasonably cold through the window above him. He heard the first of the rain as it struck the stable wall. The wind increased and drove the drops through the window. Each drop cold on his skin. Prize pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest to try and warm himself. He moved to find a drier spot and failed. The wind drove the rain in horizontal sheets through the window and soaked his shirt. 

He shivered and fell into a fitful sleep. He didn't dream of the cell he dreamed of Kabul and a massacre. Of a soldier of twenty who woke from a blow to the head and a scimitar gash on his side to see a fly crawl on the open eye of a dead lad from Devonshire. Prize woke with the name Rahim on his lips.

Gordy found him curled on the straw damp and shivering. His lips blue. His fear palpable. He nudged his rump with the toe of his boot and Prize recoiled and tried to stand. "Still here."

Prize shot a look at the stable door expecting Halden or worse March to be waiting for him, but all he saw were dripping leaves and puddles in the yard. "I'm sorry," followed by a cough was all he could manage.

Gordy bent and unlocked the shackle. He threw the thin pants at Prize and turned. "You may return to the cottage. Bring the food hamper."

Prize clutched the pants to his chest and tried to stand. He couldn't. He crawled to the doorway and with great effort pulled himself to his feet. The morning sun warmed him and his muscles relaxed a bit. He picked up the hamper with stiff fingers and made his way to the well. He stopped to rest against the cold stones, the moss soft on his naked leg. He used the rain water collected in the bucket to clean his hands and face as best he could with his manacled hands. He brushed straw and dirt from his legs. The movements grew more fluid. Goosebumps crawled on his body. The iron tag on his neck weighed like a mill stone. He continued to the cottage door shuffling and bent and paused to watch Gordy swing the kettle over the fire. He crossed the threshold and waited. The riding crop and dildo were gone. There was no sign of the spilled glass.

"You're filthy." Gordy turned from the fire.

"Yes."

"Come to the fire."

Prize crossed the floor cautiously and sank back on his heels. He settled the hamper on the floor and lifted his hands to cover his head. He pushed his elbows together to hide his face. His shoulders shook and he wept. He wept for the soldier. He wept for the lad from Devonshire and all the dead men in their red coats. He wept for Kabul. He wept for Rahim. And he didn't know why. The kettle boiled.

Gordy watched as he prepared the tea and watched the dark leaves unfurl and the water darken. He marveled at the depth of the agony before him. The naked legs and exposed buttocks. And it came to him as sudden as the storm, this is what he missed. This is what he wanted. It wasn't the blind obedience and the sure compliance. He wanted to drive Prize to this. He wanted to bring the pain and enjoy his anguish, then bring him back and do it again, both were a pleasure. The thin shirt dried and the blood on the shoulder turned brown and still Prize sobbed. Gordy stood and advanced slowly toward him, and Prize looked up at him. He reached for the collar and Prize tightened his muscles in anticipation. 

Gordy unfastened it and dropped it on the carpet where it sounded dull as lead; he loosened the manacles, and pulled them from Prize's wrists and rubbed a finger across the broken skin. He crossed to the armoire and placed them quietly inside. He locked the doors and hooked the key onto his watch chain where it glowed in the fire light. He poured steaming tea into a bowl, added brandy, and handed the bowl to Prize who wiped his eyes with his sleeve and rubbed the snot from his upper lip. He drank and placed the bowl on the floor and wept again. Gordy handed him a clean handkerchief.

A change washed over Prize as he held the handkerchief in his hand. He looked at the clean square and visions of the cell pushed the dream of Kabul from his mind and the cottage pushed away the cell. He reached for his shackle and fastened it on his right ankle. He stopped crying. He felt safe. He was in the cottage not the cell. The fire, brandy, tea, and crying warmed him. Gordy stood before him and he wouldn't rape him. It was a promise. He was Prize. 

But somewhere a niggling voice hissed, "Prize sounds like lies."

Gordy placed the food hamper in the kitchen and pulled the wooden tub from the wall and carried it to the Persian rug and set it before the fire. He heated water and filled the tub as Prize watched from his place by the hearth. Gordy removed his coat and waistcoat and hung them carefully on a dining room chair. He rolled up his sleeves and extended his hand to Prize.

"Get into the tub. You're disgusting."

"I know." Prize gained his feet and stepped to the tub. He shackle chain slinked behind him.

"Stop. Let me unlock it."

"Please don't." Prize looked imploringly at Gordy. He felt the need to anchor himself in this cottage room. He reached for the hem of his shirt and began to pull it over his head. The fabric had fused to the slash on his shoulder, causing it to bleed afresh as the cotton pulled away. But Prize didn't mind because the pain kept him from remembering that Prize sounded like lies.

"Stop, we'll have to soak it off."

Prize stepped into the tub, pulling the chain with him. Without enough length, Prize was forced to leave his legs spread and his right ankle hanging over the edge. Gordy pushed him back and down to wet the shirt to the shoulder. He scrubbed the dried mud from Prize's legs, his hand drifted higher. He ran the cloth up Prize's stomach and under the shirt that ballooned on the surface of the water. He circled the cloth down the ribs to the outer thigh and Prize tilted his pelvis to allow the soapy cloth to pass underneath. And Prize was Prize and it didn't sound like lies.

"Please, let me do that." Prize reached for the washcloth and Gordy shook his head no. Prize raised himself slightly and Gordy carefully washed his rear, going deep into the crack. He paused a moment to watch fear flick across Prize's face.

"Look me in the eye, don't turn your head."

Prize looked him in the eye and Gordy let his finger circle the anus and watched fear tighten the muscles in Prize's stomach and thighs. He stopped the soft rotation.

"Lean forward and let's see if I can release the shirt." 

Prize complied and slowly Gordy eased the shirt upward and a small rivulet of blood warmer than the bath water slid down Prize's back. He dribbled water over the bloodied area and Prize winced. The shirt pulled free. Slowly Gordy eased it over Prize's head and let it fall to the rug with a sodden thud.

The thin wound lay deep across Prize's scapula and ended in the crease where his spine transected his back. Gordy cupped the water in his hand and let it stream from his fingers across the cut. Prize flinched. Gordy placed a hand on Prize's chest to calm him and murmured softly in his ear. He said gentle words as if he spoke to his mare. The dried blood and fresh blood washed away and swirled in the soapy water. Gordy reached for the brandy on the hearth. He held Prize with a hand wrapped in the black hair and bent him forward. He poured the brandy across the cut. Prize arched and let out a hiss.

"I know it hurts." Gordy pressed Prize back into the water. "Let's try to avoid an infection." He returned to cleaning Prize's torso and paused at the thin scar that ran along the ribs. "When did it happen?"

"I don't remember." Prize looked out at the dining table.

"It must have been a terrible cut. It looks to have been stitched." Gordy touched the white scar where the neat stitches were visible.

Prize said in a flat voice, "I have no recollection of it."

Gordy pulled straw from Prize's hair and dumped warm water over his head. He scrubbed at the dirt. "Your hair is too long. I'll cut it."

"Yes."

As Gordy worked the soap through the black hair his fingers encountered another scar running across the occipital bone. He touched the spot quickly with his finger tips where the hair no longer grew and noted the fine marks left by sutures then asked Prize to stand. He poured warm water over him and rapped him in a sheet. Prize stepped from the tub clean and calm at last because he knew Prize sounded like sighs and in sighs he was safe.

Gordy fed Prize sparingly from the hamper and left him to sit by the fire as he tackled the solicitor's papers. Prize waited dutifully, the clock ticked on the mantel, a soft breeze made the leaves move like a woman's fingers on the keys of a piano. The day progressed like any other. Like any other but Prize's knowledge that he had escaped something terrible. Like any other day but the dream that seemed too real. Lies, sighs, cries. All of these made him Prize.




The Farm Ch. 05



I was lying. I still didn't want to be here, my mind hadn't changed - though my feelings about Liam were in a state of flux, a strange mix of abhorrence and lust. 

The other women again started asking me questions, but Mindy told them to pipe down and asked me, "What happened with Alicia?" 

"Who's Alicia?" 

"The woman you threw your plate at yesterday." 

"Oh . . ." I shoved some ham in my mouth and didn't answer. 

"Did you get punished?" 

"Um . . . Yes." 

"By who? Who's your Master?" 

"Liam, apparently. He's the one who punished me." 

Some of the women cooed and murmured about how lucky I was. 

Mindy winked and smiled at me and said, "We're lucky, no?" 

"Yes, very!" I replied, barely masking the sarcasm. 

Mindy studied me as if she was trying to figure out how to say something without hurting my feelings. 

A girl with long, straight, light brown hair in a white négligé introduced herself as Sarah and asked me, "So how'd you find out about this place?" 

I looked at her incredulously. "Weren't you here yesterday?" 

"Yes. You threw a plate at Alicia. We figured you didn't like the food. It was totally rude of you, by the way. You deserved whatever punishment you got." 

I couldn't decide whether or not to ignore that, but I felt like I could shoot laser beams from my eyes. I looked over at Mindy, who seemed tense. "What?" I asked as she stared at me. 

She ignored me and turned to Sarah. "So, Sarah," she said, "How's Fred?" 

Sarah pouted and shoved a piece of bread in her mouth. "I don't get it. The new bitch gets the good one even though she's obviously ungrateful, but me . . ." 

I took it that Fred was her Master, and smirked. Sarah caught me and said, "You don't deserve any of them, even Fred." 

I laughed, "Especially not Fred!" 

Mindy kicked me under the table and I exclaimed, "Ow!" When all the girls looked at me I just said, "I uh . . . just got a Charlie horse in my calf. So anyway," I hurried, "what do you all do on your down time? Do you even- do we even get free time?" 

Mindy replied, "Mostly watch TV or read. But we only get a couple hours." 

"Where do you watch TV? Where do you get books?" 

"Well, they have a common room set up just down the hall from here. And the books . . . Pa makes you service him to take one out of his office. And you get punished if you bring it back late. But I prefer reading so I deal with it." 

A blonde, pregnant girl commented, "We know it's just because you like sucking his cock, you slut." 

They all laughed, including Mindy. Sarah said, "It's really just because she likes being a know-it-all." 

Mindy rolled her eyes and said to me, "I've been trying to get Pa to lend me The Art of War to no avail-" 

"And she won't shut up about it!" exclaimed Sarah. 

Mindy nodded her head at Sarah and said, "This one's content with her Dr. Phil." 

"Ah," I nodded. "When do you catch that?" 

"Oh Missy has lots of his episodes recorded." 

"Oprah too!" Sarah chimed. 

"They uh . . . have a selection they like us to watch," explained Mindy. 

"Star Trek wouldn't happen to be in that selection, would it?" I asked doubtfully. 

Mindy laughed, "No, but I wish it was! ...Oh, Vivienne!" Mindy got excited and bounced in her seat. She held up five fingers and asked, "How many lights?" 

I smiled and said, "Four. There are four lights." 

Sarah said, "What the fuck? Those are fingers, not lights. And there are five. Learn how to count. Moron." 

Sarah didn't know what we were talking about. 

Mindy and I ignored her. 

I was feeling a bit more at ease, certain that Mindy at least would be a friend. I asked, "So is there a similar reading selection?" 

"Well it's just Romance novels. But it's something, at least" Mindy shrugged. 

"What? Why just Romance?" 

"That's just how they do it. Who knows? Oh, and the Bible, of course." Mindy rolled her eyes. 

"How long have you been here?" 

"I've been here just three months. Sarah here's been here- what is it, Sarah, three years?" 

"Two years. I've been bred twice," Sarah replied proudly. 

"Right. And Ginny - the pregnant woman with short auburn hair in the blue satin babydoll - has been here five years." 

Ginny smiled at me, "Been bred four times." 

Another pregnant woman introduced herself as Pam, she'd been here four years, been bred three times. Once she had a miscarriage. And, to my horror, she was punished for that. 

Pam explained, as if I should agree with the reasoning, "It was my fault, of course. My mind and my body were not one. My mind had created a hostile environment for anything to grow in. But Drew, he corrected that. Said I'd been . . . Oh, how'd he put it? That I'd been slippin'. Wasn't myself. Showed me everything I wasn't doin' right." 

"Like what?" 

"Like . . . Oh, I kept on talkin' about home. I missed my folks, my sisters . . . But he reminded me that you're all my sisters now, that I'd miss you all terribly if I left, and them too. He reminded me how much I need this place." 

Sarah sighed and almost rapturously exclaimed, "I love this story"!" 

Pam smiled at her and reached across the table to take her hand. "See? Sisters. We have a real deep bond. . . . Anyway, it took Drew five days to make me come to my sense-" 

"Wait," I interrupted, "I thought you were being punished?" 

"Well I was! Of course! For five days I was in that dungeon, because I had punished them by miscarryin'. I withheld what was rightfully theirs, like a dirty, selfish whore. I self-aborted." 

I almost choked on the bread I was eating as I gasped. "How does one 'self-abort'?" 

"Like I said, by doin' what I did and creatin' a hostile environment for the life inside me." 

"But you haven't explained how you did that." 

"I told you, I started talking about my other life, the one I left to come here and serve for the good of the people. My mind and body were not in the same place." 

My brain felt like it was going to explode. "So . . . you miscarried because you . . ." 

I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. I didn't want to. I realized that pretending to be okay with being here, biding my time until I could find a way out, was going to be a challenge all on its own. 

She answered, "Because I willed it to happen. I was ungrateful. I showed no humility. I pined for my other life. Now I realize that this is the life I was meant to lead." She studied my face. "Oh honey, you look so confused. Maybe you could benefit from some time with Drew. I'm sure he'd arrange with Liam to-" 

"No! No, I totally get it. Totally. Totally get it. You weren't in your right mind. I can understand that." I wanted desperately to give her some sort of drug . . . but as my mind listed the possibilities I doubted that anything less than electro-shock therapy would help. She was smacked into it and had to be smacked back out if it. At least, I wanted to smack her. 

Pam smiled, "Yes. I went against my own good. You see?" 

I nodded, "Oh, yes. I'm so relieved for you." 

"And since then, I've carried a pregnancy to term three times." 

I smiled and mustered up as much enthusiasm as I could when I spat out, "That's great!" 

Then there was Angela, a petite strawberry blonde, who was on her third pregnancy in five years. And Raina, a tall, lithe brunette, was on her second pregnancy in two years. And then there was Madeleine, another redhead, who'd been there a total of ten years and had been bred seven times. 

Madeleine explained, "They like to give us a break, they'll put us on birth control so that the men can continue to cum inside us." 

"Wow," I blurted out. "That's real . . . real thoughtful of them." 

Madeleine smiled. "Isn't it? I'm going to work for them when they can't breed me anymore." 

"Don't you . . . don't people purchase us?" 

Mindy said, "Yes! Yes they do. So far four girls have left since I've been here." 

"Four girls in three months? Why haven't you all been purchased?" 

Mindy shrugged. "Asking price. Every girl has a different price. Didn't they tell you that when you came here?" 

Sarah said proudly, "We're prime stock. Grade-A breeders, they all say. They really treat us well here. You couldn't ask for better Masters, or a better calling. We might not get what we want, but they always give us what they need. We're serving the Earth by propa- um . . . by spreadin' our DNA." 

"So . . . how'd you . . . find out about this place?" I asked Mindy. 

"Well . . . I'll tell you about it later. The bell's about to ring," she said, nodding up at the clock above the doorway behind me. 

Sure enough, the bell rang and it was time for everyone to get their exercise, except me. Before she left Mindy said, "We'll have to chat more. Night shift is done around two or three." 

"I'll be asleep, though." 

"No you won't, because I'm gonna wake you up," she giggled. 

I couldn't understand why she was so damn cheery. But I asked, "Are we even allowed-" 

"As long as you're up on time and ready to go, you can stay up all night if you want. I'll see ya later." 

"Sure." 

"We have a lot to talk about. I wanna know more about you. What's your last name?" 

"Would you believe me if I said, 'Westwood'?" 

Mindy giggled, "Absolutely not, but you're funny. What is it? Tell me," she practically demanded. 

"Uh . . . Well if it's that important to you, it's Mills." 

"Mine's Harrington. I'll catch ya later, Mills." 

She ran out to catch up with the others, and I was left at the table alone. I sipped my water and was about to get up and leave when a strong hand gripped my shoulder and made me jump. I turned my head and looked up at the guard. 

"Yes, Sir?" 

"Come with me. They're waiting for you." 

"Who is?" 

He didn't answer. Instead he made me get on all fours and crawl after him through the halls until he stopped just before a large closed door and said, "Go in." 

I knelt up, turned the brass knob, and opened the heavy wooden door into what I assumed was a drawing room, painted in pale yellow, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the fields. 

Directly ahead of me on a beige couch sat Missy, naked, her legs spread wide open as she sucked and jerked her husband and her sons, working in a way that made her look like some surreal, redneck Vishnu. And then I saw that Liam was in a chair to the side. He was naked, tied up, gagged, and his cock was reaching to the sky. My mouth dropped open when his tormented blue eyes met mine. I almost apologized, but then Andrew said, "If you're going to keep that mouth open, it'd better have a cock in it. Come over here." 

I crawled to them and watched as Missy serviced her family, and looked over at Liam, who was also watching. 

"The good news is, yer clean. But the bad news is, as you can see, Liam is being punished," said Andrew. "We saw what he did in the shower with you. Naturally, you could not say no, but he ought to have more control over himself. So he will watch as we all fuck you." 

I had no idea how to respond. I looked over at Liam, who groaned as he watched his mother jerk and suck her sons and husband. I shuddered and wondered just how this situation came to be, then thought better of wondering. 

Andrew walked over to me and grabbed me under my arm to lift me to my feet. He sat me down on the couch next to the very engrossed Missy and arranged my limbs so that my legs were spread wide and bent back and my pussy and ass were fully exposed. Missy, with Drew's cock in her mouth, pulled a set of leather cuffs from behind her and handed them to Andrew. He quickly cuffed my wrists to my ankles and it was done: my pussy was now an offering to each of them. 

Andrew slid his cock against my cunt and said, "Missy, you're gonna have to get this slut nice 'n wet for us." 

"Yes, darling," she smiled. 

As she climbed down to her knees he slapped her face hard, and she cried out. "It's Master to you, slut. You know that!" 

Missy winced and said, "I'm so sorry, Master. I was just-" 

"Shut up and put yer mouth on 'er pussy. We don't have all night." 

God, what a dick, I thought. I felt bad for her. Missy looked ashamed for a moment until she locked eyes with me and flicked her tongue at my clit. Then she smiled and pressed her lips to my pussy. The men all stood around us, stroking themselves and groaning. I heard Liam growling and looked over at him. He was watching his mother intently. 

Andrew knelt on the couch and put his cock to my mouth. I accepted it and he thrust his full length in and hit the back of my throat, gagging me. 

"I bet yer excited to get fucked by a bunch of men, huh?" said Andrew as he fucked my mouth. 

"Mm-mm!" 

"What? Did you just say no? What do you mean, 'No'? All sluts like you like gettin' fucked. You wouldn't be here if ya didn't!" 

Oh. That. I'd almost forgotten. 

Missy moaned as she watched me suck her husband's dick and started lapping at me harder, swirling her tongue all over my engorged flesh, until I couldn't hold back anymore and a moan escaped my lips. I could feel my juices dripping from me. She was voracious, on a mission. I held Liam's gaze. And then it occurred to me that Liam really did fuck up, but not in the way they thought. He'd neglected to indoctrinate me like the rest of the women had been. And Mindy too. I decided that if I couldn't do anything about this situation, I'd at least make someone else suffer a little more. Fuck it. 

So as Missy ate me out I directed the ecstasy I couldn't help but feel at Liam, like a dagger. Liam struggled in his chair, stomped his feet, and said all manner of muffled expletives through the red ball gag, which was shining with his saliva. 

Missy slid two fingers inside me and that sent me over the edge. She sucked at my clit and assaulted my g-spot. Even she was throwing sideways glances at Liam now. As I convulsed and gushed and squirted all over Missy's face I screamed and sobbed, "Oh! Oh my god! Liam!" 

Liam's eyes were blazing and his face was red. Beads of sweat had formed at his temples. He was glaring at me. I felt as though he would devour me. I shrank back a little and looked away. 

Missy got up and sat down next to me. She kissed me and made me lick my cum off of her lips and chin. I felt someone plunge into me. It was Andrew. Missy rubbed my throbbing clit as she watched her husband fuck my dripping pussy. I alternated between watching him work his cock and watching pained and angry expressions erupt on Liam's face. I was so satisfied at watching his torment that I hadn't even realized I was smiling until Andrew started cumming deep inside me, slamming into me as his cock throbbed against my walls. 

"God, you little fucking whore. Look at you smilin' like that. You like takin' my seed inside you, don't you, you little cumslut." 

"Mm... You like that, slut?" asked Missy. "Bet you wish it was Liam's cum inside you, don't you?" 

"Mhm!" I moaned, looking straight at Liam. 

I could have sworn he yelled something like, "You fucking bitch!" But his gag was in the way. So I smiled wider. 

Andrew pulled out of me and Drew was next. Missy continued rubbing my clit and almost as soon as Drew's cock penetrated me, I was cumming again. 

"Yes! Oh god!" I cried as I came all over Drew's dick while I looked into Liam's eyes. They seemed darker now, a muddled shade of blue. Liam wrested against his bonds, so much so that I thought the chair might tip over. I giggled as the image of him on the floor, utterly helpless, appeared in my mind and I focused on it so hard that I'd forgotten I was looking right at him. The look he shot back at me tore me out of the fantasy. It was almost murderous. I shivered and looked away. But then I quickly looked back at him and pled, "I'm so sorry!" 

Drew called me a bitch and told me to shut the fuck up, Liam was getting what he deserved. Missy put her smooth hand around my throat and started choking me. Drew slammed into me harder, railing on my cunt. As I struggled to breathe I came forcefully, pushing Drew out of me and squirting all over him, the floor . . . Liam. I watched as it landed on his chest and his face. He practically sobbed. 

I started feeling guilty. I felt the urge to alleviate his frustration. This was no good. I couldn't give him the satisfaction. I had to continue. . . . I thought about what I told John, how I couldn't take myself seriously in a dominant role. But I wasn't in a dominant role at all. And yet I still had the power to fuck with Liam's mind. 

I heard Drew groan and felt his warm cum start filling me. I moaned and tensed all over as he pulled out and smacked his cock against my clit. 

Fred was next. He slid inside me and said, "Yer gonna be filled to the brim when I'm done with ya, you dirty fucking whore." 

I dared not say anything about his size, how he sucked at using it, or anything else. I just quietly took it. 

Liam seemed calmer as he watched. I guessed he felt no competition with this brother. Missy looked at him too as she lazily played with my nipples and said, "You havin' fun, darlin'?" 

"Mm-mm!" He shook his head. 

"Well, that's what ya get when you use one a the girls before she's initiated, you know that." 

Liam groaned and screwed up his face. Missy continued, "You thinkin' about how you fucked her? Rememberin' her sweet pussy? She tastes real good, I know I'll be going back for seconds. Don't you worry, baby. You'll be inside that sweet, juicy cunt before you know it." 

Liam threw his head back and groaned. Fred kept fucking me but frankly, for him, I couldn't muster up any passion. Missy pulled my hair and I yelped. 

"You like gettin' fucked by all these men? Huh, slut?" She yanked my hair back again. 

I whimpered, "Yes!" 

Fred groaned and I felt him filling me. I could feel my pussy overflowing with cum now, felt it oozing down my ass onto the beige couch. I watched as Liam took the sight in, looking as though someone had just kicked his puppy. 

As Fred pulled out, I felt a stream of cum pour from my pussy as though it were a waterfall. Liam groaned and exhaustedly struggled against his bonds. 

Missy got up and removed the gag from Liam's mouth. She asked, "Are you sorry now, Liam?" 

"Yes, mother, I'm so sorry I disobeyed you!" 

"Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you need to cum?" 

"I mean it!" he insisted. "Please! Please believe me! I was weak!" 

She smacked his flushed, sweaty face. "You're damn right you were weak. Maybe we should whore you out." 

"No! I swear I won't do it again! I understand now! Oh god!" 

Missy had started stroking his stiff cock as she straddled just above him. He groaned and I swore he would cum right there. But he didn't. I looked over at Andrew, Drew, and Fred, who were all watching the scene wearily and without much interest. 

"My little baby doesn't like bein' punished, does he?" 

"No, Ma'am!" 

"You like havin' things your way, don't you?" 

"Yes, Ma'am!" 

"We all think you've been very selfish. Why should I let you cum?" 

"Because . . . because! I swear this is the last time!" 

"You're damn right it's the last time!" she shouted in his face, making me jump. "Tell me you're a slut!" 

"I'm a slut! Oh god! I'm a slut!" 

It was almost sickening to watch him grovel. I couldn't believe that this was the same man who had punished me and fucked me so well. I found myself shaking my head. The movement must have caught Liam's eye, because when I looked at him again he was watching me. Missy turned and said, "What did you just do to him?" 

"What? Me?" 

"No, the other slut next to you with a cocktail of cum in 'er cunt! Yes you!" 

"I didn't do anything!" 

Liam said, "She was shakin' her head, I saw it." 

"So?" I replied. "I was just thinking of what a shame it was that you were being punished for something I know we both enjoyed," I said sweetly. 




The Farm Ch. 05



Missy glared at me. "You tryin' ta tempt him again?" 

"I didn't tempt him!" 

"Oh yes you did! He just shoulda been stronger! I bet you think he's weak, that he'll cave to your desires. Well he won't! You are nothin' but a whore, a jizz-filled cum dumpster!" 

What the fuck? All this for shaking my head? This family was nuts. 

Of course they were nuts. They ran a human trafficking ring in the middle of nowhere and believed that when a woman orgasmed from rape she wanted to be used like a slut. 

Missy untied Liam and made him stand up. She walked him over to me, positioning him in between my legs, and said to him, "I want you to drench this dumb bitch in your jizz like the filthy whore she is!" 

Missy wrapped her hand around his cock and started stroking it, aiming it right at my face. She ordered, "Beg him to cum on yer face, bitch." 

"Please! Please cum on my face, Sir!" 

"That ain't convincin'. Liam can't cum unless you convince him. Unless you convince me." 

"Please! Please cum on me, Sir! I wanna feel your cum all over me!" I moaned, straining my voice at the last word, trying to sound as needy as possible. 

Missy shook her head as she slowed her strokes. "I don't think that's good enough. You need to know you're place, little girl. You ain't above Liam, even if he is bein' punished for fallin' prey to your temptation." 

"I didn't te-" Shit. I'd almost slipped. I thought fast. "I didn't mean to! I couldn't help myself, I'm such a slut! Please! I'm sorry for putting you in this position!" 

God. That sounded ridiculous as it came out of my mouth, like I was asking someone to fire someone else. I went on, "I'm a terrible slut! Please show me what a slut I am!" I begged. 

Liam moaned, "Mama, please! Please can I cum?" 

Missy pressed her forehead to Liam's temple and said in a low voice, "How bad do you wanna cum on this slut? How bad do you wanna show her who wields the power?" 

"So bad!" he groaned, closing his eyes. "So bad!" 

"Tell 'er. Tell 'er you fucking own her. She's the one who gets used, not you." 

Liam's eyes widened and he yelled, "I fucking own you, bitch! You're mine ta use!" 

"Good boy!" Missy cooed as she stroked him faster. "C'mon. Cum on that dumb slut. Show her what she is." 

Gutteral sounds escaped Liam's throat as his cock erupted all over me, shooting a huge, hot load all over my face and my tits. I could hardly believe how much cum there was; it was as if he hadn't orgasmed for weeks, even though we'd fucked that day. I absentmindedly licked some of it off my lips and moaned, "Thank you, Sir." 

Liam said nothing in response. Instead he said to Missy, "Thank you, Mama." 

Missy stroked his face lovingly and said, "You're welcome, son." 

They made me stay in the same position for about twenty minutes, and finally Missy led me back to my room. I wasn't allowed to shower until the morning. So I crawled into bed covered and dripping with cum, and welcomed unconsciousness.



The Farm Ch. 06



Chapter 6: Conversations

The arid land lay before him illuminated by the rising lemon moon, casting deep shadows around the rocks and low scrub of wormwood and camel thorn. Aarmaan stood guard concealed from view in one of the shadows beside wind eroded boulders at the crest of a hill. A lizard near his right shoulder absorbed the last of the day's heat from the rock and zigzagged off. The asses and camels from the caravan sent out their evening song and the goats baaed out their need for the boy who milked them. Aarmaan picked out angry bellow of The Cobra, a Bactrian named for the speed of her strike. Someone must have gotten between her and her white calf. Two days before she took a fair sized bite out of one of the boys brought along to tend the animals. Aarmaan looked to the mountains in the east that provided cover for bandits ready to sweep down on the caravan like wolves were not guards in place. He smiled and rested the curved stock of the jazail on the dirt at his feet and leaned the cool barrel against his cheek and watched for sign of movement. A fox cried in the night. The odor of cook fires drifted in the air. His stomach rumbled.

An arm encircled his throat and a harsh whisper sibilated in his ear, "You're my captive."

Aarmaan reached for the knife at his hip and paused. "Rahim, and if I'd drawn my knife and stabbed you?"

Rahim pushed closer dropping his arm to encircle his captive's chest. He kissed his neck slowly. His hand slid to the front of Aarmaan's perhan and slid across his thigh. "Draw forth thy Khyber knife." He kissed the stubbled cheek.

Aarmaan turned in his arms and kissed him quickly on the lips. "Pull forth thy Khyber knife. You distract me from watch to say something as foolish as that." They kissed again and laughter started to bubble up between them. They muffled their laughter each against the other.

"I brought you something warm to eat." Rahim's teeth flashed. He removed a small covered bowl from his bag. Aarmaan started to laugh again. "Dal and rice, fool." 

"What, no goat?" Aarmaan lifted the cloth and dipped his first two fingers in the lentils and rice and fed it to Rahim then set the bowl aside. They kissed again and let their hands linger for a moment at each others' waists.

"I'll wait up for you. Say you'll come to my tent." He was interrupted again by Aarmaan's laughter. "Can I say nothing to you now without you laughing at me? Come." The laughter came harder. "Come when your relief arrives." Aaraam's shoulders shook. "Aarmaan, not everything has two meanings." Rahim laughed now. "I won't talk to you anymore."

Aarmaan turned to scan the land before him and leaned back again into Rahim's warm body. He turned his mouth to him for a last kiss. "I'll come to your tent, Rahim. And I will draw my Khyber knife." 

***

Prize reached out in his dream and laid his hand on the hip of the warm form next to him. A smile on his lips. The skin soft beneath his calloused palm. "Rahim." The scent of lemon drifted up from the clean sheets. He jolted awake and carefully withdrew his hand. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his mouth went dry, cold grew in his stomach, dread and fear tightened his muscles, and he prayed Gordy still slept. He waited. Gordy did not move. His breathing slow and even. Below the small clock on the parlor mantel chimed four times and birds stirred in the trees outside. Still no movement from Gordy; Prize carefully slid naked from the warm bed into the chill of the bedroom and crept from the room. Carefully he avoided the first step with its squeak and placed a bare foot on the cold wood of the step below. He grasped the banister as a deep cough shook his ribs. He listened for movement in the bedroom, nothing. Like a shadow he followed the stairs to the Persian carpet and clicked the shackle around his right ankle. He crouched on the floor and gazed into the dead fireplace. The birds sang louder. The clock ticked hollow in the silent room. He pulled his hands over his head and tried to remember his dream. Goosebumps rose on his skin. Only one word remained, Rahim.

The touch felt warm on Gordy's skin long after the hand pulled away. More honest and intimate than any Prize ever gave him. Prize who kissed his thighs and sucked his nipples by rote and opened his lips for every kiss. Prize who sucked his dick and swallowed his pleasure. Each movement calculated to bring pleasure and satisfaction. They were never as warm and complete as the hand on him in the dark, touching his heart, jolting his soul. And the one word, Rahim, sighed in the dark. Gordy held himself still and mimicked sleep, hoping the hand would return. He waited as Prize slid slowly from the bed. Time to think. Sleep reclaimed him.

***

"Prize."

He stirred slowly and pulled his legs underneath him and moved to his knees, his face to the fire.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know."

"I put you in my bed and you left." It had been a conciliatory gesture, a way to repair the damage done. 

"Yes." Prize's voice was flat and hollow.

Gordy stepped forward to stand directly behind Prize. "You dreamt."

"I didn't." He shook his head slowly, fighting panic. 

"Prize, you talked. Who is Rahim?" There was no answer and Gordy filled his fist with black hair and pulled the head back.

Prize leaned back into Gordy's leg and whispered, "There is no one named Rahim," and rested his cheek against his inner thigh.

The touch Prize gave to Gordy, rote and practiced, was not the touch he gave in the early morning to Rahim. And Gordy wanted that touch again. He envied the whispered Rahim. Gordy threw Prize forward in disgust and walked to the door with long strides. It was stupid of him to want more. Mrs. Featherwink promised him a whore's son named Prize and that's what he received. The basket waited by the door. Gordy carried it to the table and unpacked it. He set aside a heavy envelope. He ate without tasting. He watched Prize. He did not call him to kneel at his knee.

He tossed some bread at him and said, "Eat." No more.

Prize lifted the bread to his lips and took a tentative bite. He took another. He turned his head to look at Gordy and discern what he knew beyond one word, to see if he felt the touch, to gage his mood. He sat as unreadable as the Sphinx. Only two days ago he failed to defuse his anger, and the results had been dire. He didn't want to make the same mistake. A cough tickled in the back of his throat. He fought to suppress it and failed.

Gordy looked at him with cool eyes. "Is that a hint for attention?"

"No."

Gordy pushed his chair back and crossed the carpet. He swept up the drawstring pants and threw them at Prize's head. "Put these on." He removed the key from his dressing gown pocket and freed the shackle. "I'll be down after I dress." He turned and ascended the stairs. The empty bed. The touch. To the devil with Rahim. Prize was his. 

Prize pulled on his drawstring pants and began to clear away the remains of the breakfast. He looked at the food, some bread, a slice of mutton, jam. He listened as Gordy moved upstairs. One bite. He wouldn't know. Prize lifted a slice of bread and looked toward the stairs and dropped the bread on the plate. He drew his arm across his chest and over his shoulder and touched the slash on his back and winced. He moved slowly. His chest felt tight.

"Not finished yet?"

Prize jumped, clattering a jam spoon on the plate. "Soon."

Gordy smiled and looked Prize up and down. His hurt back, the dirty thin pants hung low exposing the top curve of his buttocks. The way his shoulders fell forward and the tremble in his voice and hands. "Come to me."

And Prize moved slowly and stood before Gordy. He kept his head bent. He waited. Gordy ran his hand down the side of Prize's face and paused along the jaw. He traced his lips with his index finger. The lips parted. The lips always parted. His hand trailed down Prize's chest to the top of the thin cotton pants. He placed his hand flat on Prize's lower abdomen and let his thumb slide below the cloth. Prize kept his arms at his side, his eyes on Gordy. Under his hand, Gordy felt Prize's breathing quicken, the muscles tightened. Gordy pulled his hand away.

"Finish here and join me in the garden."

The heavy rain had driven some of the lower growing plants into the mud. A few pea plants were torn away from their supports. Nothing beyond repair. Gordy indicated a wood chair he carried out from the kitchen and placed a cloth over Prize's shoulders. He took a few practice snips with the shears and started in on the hair. Dark and shiny in the light, it fell on the cloth and ground. Gordy surveyed his work. The result was acceptable. Short like the hair of a Roman senator. Still enough to grab if he wanted. It enhanced Prize's appearance. Prize plucked a strand from his leg and rolled it between his fingers. Gordy pulled the cloth from his shoulders and shook it clean.

"Much better. We've more to do." He moved back to the cottage. Prize waited looking at the storm damage to the garden. The wind lifted the cut hair and sent it rolling down the path where some caught in a puddle, among the lettuces, and some, buoyed by the current, floated over the wall. Prize rubbed his hand over his shorn head. He pressed his back against the wall to steady himself and looked again at his garden. Rows of lettuces, carrots, beets, his pea plants twined around poles at the far end. Herbs grew in pots by the door. A lazy plump bee hovered near the purple spikes of lupine her legs heavy with pollen. He inhaled. Fresh turned dirt. The promise of rain on the breeze. His eyes drifted to the ancient oak tree that stood on the crest of the hill behind the cottage. 

"Come to me, Prize."

Prize paused to take a deep breath to calm the feeling of dread growing under his ribcage and turned. A cough caught him and pulled him almost double. He stopped a moment to set his resolve and moved out of the sun and into the cottage. Gordy waited by the open armoire an amber jar of viscous cream filled the palm of his hand.

Prize stopped. His skin crawled. He worked to keep his face passive as he eyed the jar. He knew nothing good came from the armoire, but he knew he would rather face whatever Gordy drew forth from it than what waited for him elsewhere. And elsewhere was what March whispered about, the cell, and that something that visited him in the stable accompanied by the acrid stench of gunpowder horrified him more than either. 

"I want to know about Rahim." Gordy pinned him with an algid glare.

"There is no Rahim." Prize dropped his eyes and studied the polished surface of the dining table.

Gordy crossed the rug bouncing the jar in his hand and paused before the fireplace. He turned and looked at the glowing peat. "You called to Rahim in you sleep. Who is he?"

"Please, I don't know a Rahim." He clutched the edge of the table and lifted his face to look at Gordy. "Please." His voice felt hollow. A thousand invisible flies walked across his skin.

"I see." Gordy lifted the jar and examined its content. He tipped the jar and the jellied mass slid to one side.

"Please, don't ask me what I don't know. Please, I can't tell you who Rahim is."

Gordy tipped the jar again and watched the gel slide up the other side of the jar. "How can I believe you here in the day when I heard you last night?" Another tip of the jar.

"It was a dream." Prize realized his mistake the moment the words passed his lips.

"Why do you dream about Rahim?" Gordy stepped closer.

"I don't know."

Gordy tilted his head.

"I don't remember." 

Gordy smiled.

"Please, I don't remember my dreams."

Gordy crossed to the table and set the jar down on the polished wood. "I believe you, Prize. Why would you lie?" Gordy lifted his hands from the table in a gesture of acceptance and placed them softly back on the surface with the jar resting between them. Prize watched as Gordy lifted each finger and replaced them on the wood. "Your pants are so dirty." Prize trembled. A cough caught him and he shook with the effort. His eyes watered. He felt cold under burning skin and the flies kept crawling. Gordy tapped the jar lid with his middle finger. "You caught a chill in the stable."

"I'm fine."

"I can see you're fine. And since you're fine, let's get on with your," Gordy shrugged, "transformation." He turned the lid on the jar. Metal grated on glass. The lid came free. A sharp odor climbed through the still air and tickled the back of Prize's throat. "Loosen your pants. How's your back? Slide up on the table."

Prize dropped his pants and stepped free. The table was something new in Gordy's repertoire. Prize stood in confusion not sure how he was to proceed. Gordy patted the surface. "Just slide your rear up here." Prize lifted himself on to the table; his feet just touching the floor. 

"That's it. Now swing around and lie back." Prize did and kept his arms rigid at his sides, the cool wood on his skin made him shiver. Gordy grasp his right arm and moved it above Prize's head, the elbow flexed. He traced the raw skin at the wrist. "Take a breath and relax." He dipped his first two fingers into the jar and removed a dollop of the stuff and rubbed it in Prize's armpit. "Not smooth. My fault really. Don't be concerned. Put your other arm up. Good boy." More cream and a sting and slight burn. "You'll be so much more beautiful without this hair."

Prize froze. He remembered that odor. The room and the table. The ropes around his wrists and knees. The laughter and sneers. Practiced hands on his body. The mirror and how he was turned, displayed. How he had to watch his own fear, the drug pulling him from his body to observe dispassionately as he was splayed and exposed.

Gordy wiped the cream and hair from each armpit using the discarded cotton pants. Prize remained still. He kept his arms bent above his head. He stared at the beamed ceiling when Gordy stepped away to get more cloths. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He fought to slow his breathing. Breathe in, "Prize sounds like lies." Breathe out, "Prize means sighs." Again and again. He coughed. He shivered. He fought to maintain his surrender. Gordy returned and moved the cream to Prize's chest, belly, and downward. Prize jumped when his penis was held in a firm grasp. 

Gordy smiled and said, "Be still, I don't want to hurt you. Now turn over."

On the hill behind the cottage stood the oak. It was Prize's oak, growing from the pasture land that surrounded the little farm. Prize stole time to watch the tree while he worked in the garden. The branches strong, the crown full. Milk cows folded their legs beneath their bellies and rested in the shade. The bark grew smooth except where a large burl clung. A few dead limbs hung to one side. The oak stood resolute against the summer storms and challenged the lighting to strike it dead. It welcomed the soft rains the leaves turned in anticipation. Its roots ran deep, as large in the earth as its canopy against the sky. Its upper branches caught the first of the morning sun when Prize's garden lay deep in shadow. The sun, red and dying, slipped behind its branches, throwing the oak into stark silhouette. It shone in the light of the full moon.

Prize turned his head and watched his oak through the wavy glass in the window as Gordy wiped the last of the cream and hair from his crack and pulled the muscles apart to see if he missed any. He gave Prize a slap, leaving a pink handprint on the right cheek. "Go and wash. You don't want to leave it on too long." 

And Prize walked with lemon soap and cloths to the well and watched his oak as he washed himself. His skin felt raw and sensitive. He felt more naked than he had in weeks. A crow screamed out his territory and Prize turned his head and caught a glimpse of Gordy in the doorway. He moved a soapy hand to his penis and wrapped his hand around the shaft and moved it back and forth, a twist at the end. He lifted a hand to his nipple and rubbed. Gordy expected this. The oak leaves moved in the breeze. 

His hand slid down his side. He placed his foot on a large, smooth stone and parted his cheeks. He washed carefully. Prize rhymes with sighs. And the cough caught him again. 

***

"Sit." 

Prize took his place on the rug. He rubbed his hand through his shorn hair and dipped his head. "Whatever pleases you." He raised his head. His eyes softened. His lips parted. His knees parted exposing his hairless groin and he pushed his chest out. 

"You do that well."

Prize lowered his head. "My my mother sold me to this."

"Did she?"

"You called me whore."

"Whores are only rented. Put on your shackle." A quick click and it was done. Cold ran down Prize's spine like a drop of well water. The shackle was his choice. It was always his choice. It kept him safe. It kept him anchored at the cottage. Gordy paced the carpet. "Now tell me about this Rahim?"

"I don't know." He looked at the hand that had betrayed him in his dream and Gordy followed his gaze.

"We're back where we started." Gordy stood in agitation. "Try this question. Why were you circumcised?" 

"To change who I was. To make me who I am. To increase my worth. I don't know."

"You son-of-a-bitch. Do you know anything? Do you know what I have in that armoire you're always sneaking looks at? I have the means to make you tell me. You'll shout the answers. You'll beg to tell me."

Prize moved to his knees. A series of coughs shook him. "Let me pleasure you." His hands lifted toward Gordy.

"On new terms." Gordy went to the armoire and removed a pair of leather cuffs. "Place your hands behind your back." Prize complied. He was too stunned to think. His wrists were overlapped and held firmly. "I don't trust you." Gordy removed a gag with blocks of leather-covered wood. Prize knew that type of gag; he wore it for days in the cell. He slept in it. He tried to eat with it in place, bent over a cracked plate pushing food around and onto the straw. It was Miss Liz who pitied him enough to feed him bits of greasy food and dribble water into his mouth.

Gordy shook the blocks and straps to untangle them. The device was simple, a wide leather band with a large hole and a cup to hold the chin, on both sides of that hole two leather-covered blocks extended. Once placed in the wearer's mouth and buckled behind the head the jaws were held open. It could not be dislodged. The one Gordy held was old, the brown leather supple, the stitching strong. The buckles dull and solid. Prize felt the muscles in his legs turn to tallow and he sank back, his buttocks on his heels. His knees moved outward and he slid down on his belly. Gordy was going to strap and block him. That's what Cruel called it. "Gordy, please." The cough came again. He wanted to plead with Gordy. He wanted to change his mind and there wasn't enough air. The moment was passing. He pushed, "Please," through his lips. And he couldn't breathe.

"And what will you give me if I put this away?" The buckles jingled. "Will you tell me about Rahim?" Gordy ran a finger along the cut in Prize's back to punctuate his point, causing his shoulder blades to push closer together. His hand moved down Prize's back and pulled at the leather cuffs. It circled the small of Prize's back then stroked the smooth exposed skin between the buttocks. "Or will you give me your ass?"

What could he tell him? Rahim was an oak in the morning light. Rahim visited him in dreams. Rahim tasted like dates and spice. Rahim was not the cell, the cottage, the lurking horror that kept trying to struggle from behind a curtain. "I release you from your promise."

Gordy flung the blocks and straps onto Prize's back and watched him flinch. "Give it to me tonight. You'll have time to reconsider." His anger boiled. He thought he had out flanked Prize. He wanted Rahim because Prize touched him so gently in his sleep. Because he spoke his name with love and longing. Because no one had ever touched Gordy that way. Because Prize gave Gordy his body and nothing more.




The Farm Ch. 06



At around 3 a.m., I felt someone's arms slip under me and pick me up out of bed. Still half-dreaming, I thought nothing of it until I heard Liam's voice say, "Wake up, sweetie. You're being punished."

I gasped and my eyes opened and absorbed the darkness of my room. Liam held me to him firmly enough, but without thinking I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me out and down the hall. 

I knew where he was taking me. I begged him, pled with him not to punish me, told him how sorry I was for treating him that way, said I didn't know what came over me, that I would never do it again. I begged the whole way to the dungeon.

"You're damn right you won't do it again," he said as kicked open the dungeon door. "I'll make sure of that."

In the cage where I'd slept what seemed like an age ago was Mindy. She was naked, and her skin glistened with cum from her shift. She looked up at me apologetically as Liam carried me to the table where he'd tortured me before, and set me upon it.

"Get on your hands and knees."

I did so, and heard him taking off his belt.

I gasped, "No! Sir! Please don't use the belt on me!"

But down it came, across my ass, stinging my flesh. I screamed and looked up to the ceiling. He smacked it against the backs of my thighs, and the pain seared through my legs and throbbed through my cunt. Then he smacked it against my ass again. I was quivering, my blood was hot, I was nauseated and feared that I would vomit all over the table. But he altered his force, and came down on me a bit lighter several times, before working up to heavier blows that made me scream and beg and tear up. I felt as though I were splitting apart, being tenderized by his rage. I lurched each time the belt made contact with me. His deep disappointment and anger were marking me, filling me with fear and regret and a sudden longing to weep in his arms. I didn't know what was happening to me. It was as though a vague apparition had appeared on the distant horizon and was rapidly approaching. I cowered in fear of it, clinging to the semblance of anything I could remember to ward it off. John. There was John. There was-

And then he stopped. I felt his hand slide up my pussy and he laughed.

"You crazy bitch! You are wet. Too bad I ain't gonna let you cum tonight."

I sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Sir! Please, please forgive me!"

"Nope. This is just the beginning of your punishment."

My mind scrambled for any tactic I could use. I was afraid of what else he had planned for me, feared that Mindy would be part of my torture. I imagined he'd fuck her instead of me, and punish me with jealousy and longing. Because the truth was, at that moment, I needed to be fucked. I needed the balance to the pain I'd received. But I really just wanted to nullify all feeling entirely, physical or emotional. None of it was doing me any good.

Liam took Mindy out of the cage and carried her to the table. He set her facing me, and she silently mirrored my position. I wondered if he'd done this to her before.

"Kiss," Liam ordered.

I started to protest but Mindy shut me up with her mouth as she planted it firmly on mine and kissed me deeply. For a few moments I forgot the pain that reverberated through my body and lost myself in her soft lips and her wet tongue. I wanted to swallow her, bury myself in her. I felt feral. I was a kaleidoscope of throbbing pain, surging fear, burning regret, seething anger, and shameless lust being twisted and turned and watched.

"Kneel. Play with each other's titties."

We knelt up and drew close to each other. I groaned as my muscles tensed beneath my raw skin. We continued kissing and I reached out and pinched Mindy's nipples, slid my hands over her soft flesh. She felt so good in my hands, like silk. She did the same to me and we moaned into each other's mouths and writhed against each other as we played. I got lost in it, spun in the pleasure – until Liam hit my calves with his belt, shattering my pleasure into shards of stinging pain.

"Now, Mindy, I have to teach Vivienne a lesson. Unfortunately, she's gonna be learnin' it on you. Get on your hands and knees. Vivienne, get off the table."

Liam held out his arms to help me off the table. The gesture surprised me and I hesitated, because I wasn't sure if he'd yank me off the table and let my body smack down on the hard floor. But he said, "I'm not gonna bite. Don't make me change my mind."

I put my arms around his neck and held onto him as he set me down on my feet gently, though I still winced and moaned from the movement. As my body pressed against his, I could feel his hardness. And all I could think of was how I wanted it.

But I wouldn't get it. Not tonight.

Liam held out his belt and said, "You like bein' a sadistic bitch? Here. Use this on your friend."

I froze. This was not what I'd expected. This wasn't even on my list of expectations. I couldn't hurt Mindy – cute, pixieish Mindy, who I believed was my only oasis in this place. No, I couldn't do it. I bit my lip and shook my head. "Please don't make me . . ." I begged.

"But I thought you liked causing suffering. Look at how you treated me – after I'd put myself on the line for you! You thrilled at my punishment! You joined in it! You rubbed it in like a little, ungrateful cocktease!"

"I'm sorry!" I pled anxiously. "Please, please- I can't! I'm sorry for making you suffer! Please don't make me hurt her!"

He shook his head. "You've got two choices: you either do this here, now, or I give you to Drew and he becomes your Master." 

"No!" I cried, my mouth agape. Not Drew. Not after hearing what he'd done to Pam. And then I wondered if Liam would ever do that to me. But it didn't matter. Whatever Drew and Fred did to their girls, I did not want done to me. I didn't even want to know if I was just as susceptible as they were to that sort of mind control. I shuddered at the thought.

Liam shoved the belt at me and I automatically grabbed it before it fell to the floor.

I looked at Mindy. Her head was down, I couldn't see her eyes. I didn't want to hurt her – she'd done nothing wrong. But Liam, Liam had abducted me. Liam had tortured me.

And then he'd slithered under my wet skin in the shower and given me something I liked, something I didn't know I wanted, something I probably wouldn't have gotten from anyone else there. Something he shouldn't have. I thought about it, about how I enjoyed it. And how he broke the rules, most likely knowing he'd be punished. And now, Mindy was about to be punished by me for my actions. It was unfair to her. I couldn't be unfair to her. . . . But I'd been unfair to Liam.

And that's how he was punishing me. He was making me taste just how unfair it was.

My being here against my will wasn't fair either. But I couldn't use that logic with him – or even myself at this point – because here I was, and things were what they were. That was now a different battle in a different war. I was learning my place here, now, with Liam.

I squeezed the tough leather in my hand and begged one last time, quietly, "Please, Sir . . . do anything to me . . . anything else. Don't make me make this choice."

Liam just replied coldly, "Do it."

Mindy's head was still down. I said, "I'm so sorry, Mindy."

She didn't reply. I hated that I couldn't see the look in her eyes. I was hoping I'd see excitement instead of fear. But I had a feeling that wasn't the case.

I flicked my arm so that the leather hit her lightly. She barely uttered a sound. I tried a little more force, and she moaned.

Liam yelled at me, shattering the awkward silence between the strikes I took. "Do it harder! You ain't even tryin'! She likes this, look at her! Make her scream, Vivienne!"

"I can't!" I whined, quivering.

"Don't tell me you can't! Your arm ain't broken! Do it!" He yelled it in my face like a drill sergeant. I shrank back and he grabbed my jaw with his hand. "Do it."

He released me and I stepped back and drew in a breath. I wondered how he'd react if I stopped and chose Drew over him. Liam seemed so demanding, so eager for me to get on with it. But I'd never done anything like this before. I didn't trust myself. I guess I'd learn now.

I reared my arm back and swung the belt against her ass, and she cried out and twitched from the pain. I looked at Liam, who wordlessly encouraged me to go on. I did it again, a little harder, and she screamed. I could see the red marks forming. I felt wretched for doing this to Mindy. I did it again, as hard as the last time, and she shrieked. I couldn't take it, I started crying. How were people able to do this? How was it that I was okay with being treated this way but couldn't project that onto someone else? I was at once grateful and appalled that I was able to find men who liked doing this to me. But I couldn't do it to someone else. I wasn't sadistic enough.

"Please, let that be it, please?" I whimpered.

"Go on. Keep going until I'm satisfied."

Tears ran down my cheeks and I continued assaulting her little ass with the vile thing. I could almost feel her pain as I struck her, her cries and whimpers and screams surrounded me like a shroud. I was lost in a mess of tears and violence, praying Liam would grab my hand and stop me. But he didn't. He stood there watching me cry and swing at her, watching her lurch and writhe with pain, watching as I seared her ass over and over. I apologized for smack, every scream, until I couldn't tell if I was apologizing to her or to him. Each crack of the belt brought me a new question, a new realization. What was he trying to show me? Was this was just as bad as what I'd done to him? Just as painful? Had I made him feel just as wretched as I did now? I felt terrible for it! And how selfish was I being, choosing this over going with Drew? But Mindy had to understand – I couldn't switch from Liam to Drew. I couldn't become one of those girls without a mind of her own. I'd rather die. And I think Liam knew that. I was grateful to him for knowing that. And I had been so ungrateful . . . I was getting angry at myself. The apparition was close to me, I could feel it encircling me, tugging at me. I was developing feelings.

If I hadn't had a mind of my own, would this punishment have been less effective, or more?

Mindy started crying – in my anger at my sudden realization, I had dealt a blow across her thighs that even made Liam jump. I snapped out of my thoughts, and gasped at her welts and dropped the belt.

Liam bent down and picked it up, and in one brief, stinging stroke cracked it against my breasts. I screamed and doubled over the table, trying to mitigate the pain.

I turned my head and watched as Liam stroked Mindy's hair away from her wet face. I grew jealous, angry that he could be like that with her, and realized I probably wasn't special. I was simply a new toy. I wondered if he'd broken the rules with her, too.

A knot in my stomach was growing, though not from the throbbing pain I felt. I wanted to run away, not because I'd been abducted, but because I was starting to want Liam more, and it terrified me.

Was that part of the punishment? To make me jealous? But how could he know that would work?

He helped Mindy to her knees and then lifted me onto the table. I felt weak, spent, but I knew it wasn't over. I just prayed there'd be no more belt, no more of the searing, biting pain that echoed through me. But he made me lay down on my back, and I couldn't be gentle enough with myself when I did so. I whimpered and clenched my fists as my raw, tender skin touched the surface. He made Mindy straddle my face, and I saw that her pussy was shining and slick. It made me feel a bit relieved.

I looked up at her and said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't want-"

Mindy pressed her finger to her mouth and said, "Shh . . ."

I didn't know what that meant, if that meant she forgave me or if she was sick of hearing my apologies. Her juice dripped onto my lips and I licked it away as we looked at each other. Liam started restraining my arms. He left my legs free. I heard something click, and then a buzzing noise, and then felt a vibrator being pressed against my pussy. I moaned and arched my back as shocks of pleasure shot through me. I felt a bit relieved, but it didn't last.

"You are not allowed to cum, Vivienne. You just hold that vibrator between your thighs and watch my dick slide in 'n outta Mindy's pussy."

"What? No!" I whined. "Please! Haven't I shown you how sorry I am?"

"Nope."

But I felt it. I wanted to drag him inside me and make him feel how I felt. 

Liam took his pants off and climbed onto the table. He got behind Mindy and I watched as he slid his dick up and down her wet cunt, and then thrust it hard inside her. Mindy and I both cried out at the same time.

Her juices splashed and dripped all over my face and my chest as I watched Liam's cock penetrate her. His balls bounced off my tender breasts and so, with every shock of pleasure, I felt a sting of pain. My senses were inundated. I could smell them, tasted Mindy on my lips as she dripped onto me, and the vibrator relentlessly attacked my swollen clit. I needed to cum. I begged for it.

But I wasn't allowed.

"We'll have to do this all over again if you cum," Liam panted, "so you better not."

I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands as I felt my orgasm creeping up. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hold on, and afraid to do this all over again.

And then, my mind started mixing the pain of Liam's balls hitting my sore breasts with the pleasure of the vibrator, until both sensations felt pleasurable and I felt barely any pain. I usually loved it when that happened, but not this time. My orgasm threatened me, loomed over me like an oncoming storm, and I tugged at the restraints as it approached.

And then Mindy started cumming. She squirted a downpour of cum all over my face and my hair and my chest as the force of her orgasm pushed Liam out of her.

"Open your mouth! Drink it!" Liam ordered.

I did so, drinking up Mindy's delicious juice, collecting it in my mouth, savoring it, swallowing all I could take like it was a glass of water in the desert. Liam swiftly thrust himself back inside her and I tensed my muscles hard and clung to the edge of orgasm, praying I wouldn't fall, praying I wouldn't have to repeat this. I sobbed and cried, my tears mixing with Mindy's cum on my face, as I watched her be consumed by him. I was so very, very sorry, and I repeated it over and over.

I watched his cock throb as he came inside her, and tugged on the restraints and screamed as I fought against cumming. I stopped begging, and just yelled and moaned and squirmed as I watched him fill her, watched his cum drip down his dick, and couldn't help but want to be in her position. Even if she didn't want to be there, I did.

He pulled out and his cum spilled forth, into my waiting, open mouth. I whimpered as I tasted it.

"Feed the slut, Mindy."

Mindy lowered herself to my mouth, groaning, and I started eating his cum out of her. I greedily collected all of it as she pushed it out of her, and cleaned her thoroughly, until there was none left. I tried to think of anything but cumming, but cum was all I could think about. My nerves raged, my breath was ragged, my mind was deliriously spinning and I fervently prayed for mercy.

When Liam was satisfied, he helped her off me and started undoing my restraints.

"I'm sorry, Sir! Please believe me!" I sobbed, craning my head to look into his eyes.

"Oh, I know you are. But you still ain't gonna cum tonight."

"Noo!" I whined. "Please!"

"I'll remove the vibrator, but you'll cum when I want you to cum."

I didn't know how he would manage that, but he removed the vibrator from my aching, throbbing pussy, giving me a reprieve. I sighed in deep relief as my body slowly crept away from the edge of its release.

Liam had us lay on our stomachs – allowing me to let my breasts dangle off the edge of the table – and with surprising gentleness applied ointment to our raw skin. I felt his hand move slowly over my bruises as he rubbed the ointment in, careful not to cause too much pain. But goosebumps erupted on my flesh, and I feared they would give me away. I feared it, because I imagined him holding the fulfillment of my desire in front of me like a carrot on a stick, and ripping it away the moment I could taste it.

He crouched down in front of me and looked into my eyes as he applied the cream to my breasts. I wanted to know what he was thinking, if he was really satisfied with how I took my punishment, or if he was still disappointed. I found myself gazing at his ocean blue eyes, his long blond lashes, and wanted to slam my fist down on the table when I realized again what was happening to me.

Was I being mind-controlled? Was this Stockholm Syndrome? It must be, I told myself.

Liam let Mindy leave. She simply said, "Thank you, Sir," and left without a word to me. I wondered if she would ever speak to me again.

When I got up, before I could lower myself to the floor, Liam scooped me up and carried me out. I wrapped my arms around his neck and enjoyed his warmth as he walked through the halls, away from my room.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I said as I rested my head against his shoulder.

"I know you are," he said quietly.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm bringin' you to my room, to make sure you don't touch yourself tonight."

I was confused, and picked my head up to look at him. His gaze was far ahead. "Why didn't you just leave me restrained on the table?"

He didn't answer. He kicked open his bedroom door and brought me into the darkness. He strode across the room and gently set me down on his bed, which was immensely more comfortable than my own.

And then I thought about the motel I'd been staying at, and how all my things were there – if they were still there – and my car! I started panicking, I needed to get out . . .

But it was a silly thought. I wouldn't get out unless I was sold. My friends and family, my co-workers, might never see me again. I had a week and a half left to my vacation. I'd have been halfway across the country by now if it weren't for this . . . this detour. My mind raced on and Liam turned on a light and looked at me.

"What's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" I snapped.

Liam sat on the bed next to me and ran his fingers across my belly. "You look panicked. I know I didn't do that," he laughed.

"I wanna go home," I said.

"You can't."

"Please? Just let me go! I'll stay silent about this place, I won't tell anyone!"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Vivienne, but once you're here . . ."

"Don't you feel bad about it in the least? Don't you feel bad about ripping people away from their lives? How would you feel if this happened to you?"

". . . I reckon I'd be pissed."

"Haven't you ever thought about that before? Hasn't anyone ever asked you that?"

He shook his head. "No. You're the first."

"How is that possible?" I shouted in absolute frustration at every woman who'd ever been in this place.

Liam laughed and said, "That's why I like you so much, Vivienne. You're a little spitfire. You ain't complacent like the rest of these women. I don't know how Drew and Fred can stand it. I take after my pa, I like women with minds of their own."

I calmed down a little and drew in a breath and said, "You still haven't answered my question: don't you feel bad?"

"I was raised with this, Vivienne. This is what I know."

"You never even questioned it?"

"No. I used to question it all the time. Then I left for a while . . ."

"Why'd you leave? Where'd you go?"

"Why should I tell you?"

I thought about that for a moment and then said, "Because I want to know. I'm your slave, aren't I? Why shouldn't I know my Master?"




The Farm Ch. 06



Liam's expression went from contemplative to questioning. It was a strange sort of questioning though. It looked almost pained. I realized he didn't believe me. He didn't believe me, but he wanted to.

"Tell me. I won't tell anyone. I want to know. I'm not going anywhere, am I? We might as well get to know each other – if you actually care to get to know your whores." I was goading him. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help but want to elicit strong reactions from him. Even if they had bad consequences. I wondered if I'd really learned my lesson.

He glared at me and said, "I should smack you for that. I take care of my girls."

"Prove it. Tell me why you left. Make me understand you."

He laid on the bed next to me, folded his hands under his head, and looked up at the ceiling and sighed. His demeanor had changed, he was no longer the ruthless, sadistic, Dominant. He was now just Liam.

"Alright. Since you wanna know . . . I was 21. I'd met a girl in town. We started dating . . . She was great – sweet, smart, sexy, but in an innocent way, the kinda girl you feel you need to be gentle with . . ."

"Wait- you started dating someone even though your family does all this?"

"Well, I didn't tell her anything. I kept it a secret. I never brought her home. I thought that maybe I'd just run off with her, leave this place behind. She was so good, she'd just graduated college, planned on teaching, loved kids. We'd talk about everything, for hours. I started thinking of proposing to her, leaving this altogether. And then one day, I lost her."

"How?"

Liam frowned and said, "Drew. He brought the truth out."

I raised my eyebrows at him and paused as I decided not to ask what I really wanted to ask – if he really would have been okay with giving me to Drew. 

"What'd he do?"

"He'd met her a few times, we'd gone out drinking. One night I was supposed to meet her at a bar, and she never showed. I waited until closing. Then I come home, thoroughly inebriated, and start headin' to my room. I pass the drawing room – where you-"

"Uh-huh," I interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

"And there she was, with Drew, riding him on the couch."

"What?" I exclaimed. "That's awful!"

"Yeah, well, it gets worse. Drew's the firstborn so one would think this place would go to him after Pa retires from runnin' it full-time. But that's not the case . . . It's split between me and Drew."

"What about Fred?"

Liam laughed, "Fred's an idiot, he can't run shit. He don't want to anyway, he just wants the icing, none of the cake."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he signed over his share when he was 18."

"Wow that's dumb," I breathed. And then I immediately realized that even though Liam had called him an idiot, I wasn't necessarily in a place to be voicing that opinion.

Liam caught the deer-in-headlights look on my face and laughed, "It's fine. It's true, it was dumb."

I sighed in relief and said, "So this girl . . ."

"Annabeth," he said coldly.

"Annabeth . . . was fucking Drew on the couch?"

"Yep. Broke my heart."

"So she went after Drew thinking she'd-"

"Bitch was a gold-digger. A money-hungry slut. Her daddy had put her up to it, thinking he could get a piece. He was a regular client. Still is."

"Her father?" What the fuck was wrong with this town?

"Yup. Money's money, Vivienne. And sex is sex."

Money and sex. That's all this place really was. It was easier to digest without looking deeper than that. I wondered if every client knew that each woman here had been brought here against her will. Or if it even mattered to them. Or if they knew and it turned them on more . . .

I stopped thinking about that and asked Liam to continue.

"So, I find them fucking, and I'm just standin' there watchin' her bounce up and down on Drew's cock like she was in a rodeo. She finally sees me standin' there and smiles this wicked, vicious smile that splits my heart in two, and tells me how much better he feels inside her, how many times she'd cum for him, how she was gonna let him cum all over her face . . ." Liam started laughing, almost maniacally, "And then Drew starts cumming right there, inside the cunt! And she starts hollering about how she's gonna get pregnant before she's married like some piece a trash – like she wasn't one already – and she punches him! So he pushes her off him and then drags her down to the dungeon. I follow him down and after he throws her into the cage, I punch him. We got into a huge fist fight right there."

"Who won?"

"I did. Drew's big but I'm a better fighter. Plus, I was drunk and enraged. Knocked him out cold."

"Jesus . . . How'd you find out her father had put her up to it?"

"Well, like I said, her father's one of our clients. So he comes by a week later and Pa shows him the new whore we got. . . . He begged and pleaded with us to let her go, said it had been him who told her to go after Drew instead a me, told us he just wanted to be part of the business, admired us, basically stroked our cocks for a half-hour or so. Then he told us he'd buy her. But he couldn't afford her. He begged us for forgiveness. And finally, when that all didn't work, he paid to fuck her."

"What?!"

"Yep. Paid to fuck his own daughter. The irony of that . . ." Liam shook his head. "What he'd once gotten for free, he now had to pay for. But you shoulda seen it, Viv. He was brutal with her, calling her a dumb bitch for screwing up their plan, smacking her around – we almost had to step in and take him outta there because he almost crossed the line a few times. She was in hysterics, beside herself, begging for his forgiveness. He paid to use her all day. Tortured her. Fucked her raw. Came all over her face as she cried . . ." Liam shook his head. "Fucked up. She was bedridden for a few days after that."

I was shocked. I had no idea what to say. Liam turned on his side and looked at me as he continued the story.

"I couldn't take being here with her here. My heart was still broken. She'd betrayed me, made me into a fool, pretended she was someone she wasn't. Gave me hope and then ripped it away. I couldn't bear to see her. So I left until they sold her."

"Who'd they sell her to?"

Liam shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. I just came back when it was over."

"How long?"

"About a year. They sold her off cheaper than most."

"What's cheaper than most?"

"Way less than what we'd charge for you."

"Which is . . ."

Liam didn't answer. I didn't push it. I asked, "So where'd you go for that year?"

"I travelled. Turned out to be a good experience. I went all over the country, even New York, where you're from."

I shifted my eyes away from him and said, "Yeah, that's what I was supposed to be doing until this."

Liam said nothing. I stared up at the ceiling with him.

I wished I could be that girl, the one who was so innocent men felt they had to be gentle with her, praise her, cleanse themslves of sin for her. But then, I balked at such innocence. I didn't believe it. And sure enough, it didn't exist – at least, not in Liam's story. 

No, I was a slut. I had been a slut before I'd come here, that was true. I'd had no problem with being a slut. I loved being a slut. The problem with being a slut is that most men don't take your emotions seriously, they assume you'll never settle down, you'll betray them. Sluts are never cleansed of their sin, their sins follow them wherever they go. The innocent girls are steadfast to the core. They deny themselves even the thought of betrayal. They can't be corrupted. Sluts like me were already corrupt, we could never go back to being innocent because we never had been. 

Sluts like me have a sort of wanderlust when it comes to relationships. Men don't believe us when we tell them we love them, because they know we'll stray – if not with our bodies, then with our minds. They don't believe that one can truly be in love and still want something else in addition to it, still want more. Everyone believes that Love is something to be shared only by two specific people, this be-all, end-all thing that means you've been chosen by someone else to be theirs forever, that means total completion. It's a sort of codependent ego trip. And total completion equals death.

There's a quote by poet Antonio Porchia: "In a full heart there is room for everything, in an empty heart there is room for nothing." Unfortunately, my heart was full. And that had complicated everything in my life. At this point, you could say being here was the perfect place for me. But it wasn't, because I had no choice in who I experienced. Maybe that made it more perfect still. Maybe I even deserved it.

And maybe I just never knew what I wanted.

But to have just one person treat me with kid gloves . . . What was that like? It didn't matter, it would never happen. I was wishing to be treated as something I was not, could never be. I was no Cinderella, no Juliet, not even Iseult. I was simply Vivienne Mills. And the men I had been with were no Prince Charmings, no Romeos, no Tristans – even though they liked to think they were. And here I was, laying next to someone who had also, for at least one moment in his life, wished to be something he wasn't.

He asked me what I was thinking about, which took me by surprise. So I told him, "I was just wondering what it's like to be innocent."

He laughed. "You ain't never been innocent in your life. Anyone can see that."

I frowned, "I know."

"It's okay, innocence is overrated."

"Is it?"

"Girls like you are way more fun."

Was he flirting with me? Didn't he know he didn't need to?

For a moment, I'd actually forgotten where I was. I looked into his eyes and sincerely said, "Thank you for telling me all that, Sir. I actually do understand you better now."

Liam smiled, and dragged his fingertips across my pelvis. I moaned and tried to move away quickly, having forgotten about the tender state of my ass and my thighs, and yelped in pain. Liam chuckled and stroked my hair. "You are always trying to run away, aren't ya?"

I curled up and pressed my face to his palm. What was he doing to me? No, I knew what he was doing to me. How was he doing it?

He got up and went into his drawer, and pulled out some rope. "Hold out your wrists. I'm gonna tie 'em so that you don't touch yourself."

"Please don't tie them! I promise-"

He chuckled. "You must really like begging. I like that about you. Come on, do it."

I sighed and held out my wrists. He tied them firmly, but not too tight.

I laid there, my wrists bound, my fingertips just touching my pussy, and watched him get up and take his clothes off. I felt myself get wet at the sight of him, and turned my head away.

He shut off the light and climbed into bed next to me. He lifted the covers over me and I twisted myself onto my side, ignoring the damned pain, and curled up next to him. I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep, but my heart started racing as my thoughts bounced back and forth from the outside world to this world, and I wondered how the two could possibly exist side by side.

* * *


It couldn't have been Stockholm Syndrome.

I'd spent the entire night mulling it over. I decided that Stockholm Syndrome was just a name given to an emotion deemed "illogical" in a given situation. In this case, Liam was both sympathetic and abusive, but was he really abusive? Could it really be called abuse when it had been something I sought on my own time? Don't get me wrong – I'm not saying that being taken against my will to be bred by rich rednecks had been something I really wanted. But the way he dominated me, the way he punished me . . . He was giving me something I'd always wanted. He was pushing my limits, physically and mentally. In this realm, I was getting exactly what I'd wanted for as long as I could remember. Perhaps those who had been diagnosed with Stockholm Syndrome were just afraid to admit to themselves that they liked being in a position where they submitted and suffered, because the enjoyment of such things is widely considered "illogical."

But to people like me, it's transcendental. It's spiritual. The deeper the suffering, the higher the rapture. To people like me, it makes sense to bond with someone who is giving us exactly what we want. That is, essentially, how relationships develop.

Sure, it sounds sick. Sure, I was a hypocrite. I had, after all, told John that girls who wanted to be ravished mentally – like I was now – were the ones I doled out meds to. I blushed at the ignorance of that statement. I wondered if John had seen through it. Up until now, I didn't know myself. And I was ashamed of that. And today, I couldn't do anything about it, I could do nothing to rectify it. Today, I'd become a whore.

I doubted Liam had realized what he'd done. I doubted he'd even intended to do it. But then again, he seemed to know what he was doing.

I wondered if Mindy had gone through the same thing with him. I didn't even know if I could ask her, if she'd ever talk to me again after tonight.

Liam stirred and turned towards me. I longed to touch him, to press myself against him, but I couldn't. I didn't want to disturb him. My thoughts once more went back to our shower, and I tried to bat the images away as they swarmed me. I was afraid I'd cum by thought alone. My pussy started aching as I once again felt his lips on my stomach, felt his fingers inside me, felt him filling me . . .

I groaned and clenched my thighs. I wished sleep would come to me, but as the early sunlight streamed through the blinds I knew it would be lost.

I shut my eyes anyway. Perhaps I could get away with sleeping through this whole day. I didn't want to be awake for it. I didn't want to become a whore.

I felt Liam's hand run down my side and I kept my eyes shut, pretending to sleep. When his hand reached my pussy, though, I looked at him.

"I knew you weren't sleepin'."

I said nothing and held his gaze. He pushed me onto my back and looked me over. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Instead I said, "Sir?"

"Yes."

"Why did you bring me to your room?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

I felt a strange sense of hope and tried to push it away. "What do you mean? Because you were punishing me. Why didn't you leave me strapped to the table?"

"Well . . . I couldn't just leave you alone after all that. It'd have been cold. I like taking care of my girls."

"Oh . . ."

Liam smirked. "You sound disappointed."

I ignored that. "What about Mindy?"

"What about her?"

"Well you let her go. By herself. Wasn't that cold?"

"Mindy was fine. She's a little pain slut, that girl."

"But still!"

Liam grew impatient. "Don't question me, Vivienne. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" I asked angrily.

Liam changed the subject. "You'll be expected at breakfast in a little while. And then-"

I snapped and interrupted him, "And then I'll become a whore, officially. Do you like that? Do you like not having a say in who breeds your slaves? Is that why you fucked me before you should have?"

Liam said nothing, and I went on. "That's it, isn't it? You had to claim me first, to make sure I knew who I belonged to. Did you do the same to Mindy?"

"No," he growled. "You'd better shut your mouth or I'll-"

I felt some relief at his answer, but I still challenged him. "What? You'll what? Come on. Show me."

Liam smacked my face and climbed on top of me. He lifted my arms above my head and kissed me hard, deeply. My body arched to meet his as my lips urgently returned the kiss. He slid his hand between my thighs and felt my wetness.

"You are such a slut."

"How could I be anything else for you?" It was an honest question.

He groaned and then climbed off me, leaving me confused and helpless as he went into his bathroom. I heard him turn the shower on and wondered if we'd shower together again.

But no. He left me there as he showered. He left me there dripping wet, simmering with need and frustration.

"What are you doing to me?" I whined. What was I falling into?

He didn't answer. I didn't know if he heard me. But I didn't repeat the question. I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of the certainty that he had gotten under my skin, the skin which I now wanted to crawl out of. I hoped he hadn't heard me.

When he came out he gave no verbal indication of having heard me give voice to my vulnerability. Instead, he walked over to me, untied my wrists, and said shortly, "Go shower. You'll be expected at breakfast soon."

"What? You mean alone?"

"You don't need my help, do you?"

"No . . . No, I don't."

"Oh and Vivienne . . ."

"Yes?"

"You still can't cum. Not until you're with your first client."

"Come on! How will you even know?"

"Because I'll be able to see it in your face. Now go. Use whatever you need."

I glared at him and carefully got off the bed. He smirked as he watched me, and I bit my lip instead of telling him to fuck himself. No, I would never be innocent. And I was fine with that.

I turned on the shower, testing the water with my hand until it was hot enough. It should have been cold. I stepped in and slid the glass door shut, letting the water drench me as I closed my eyes.

I washed my hair, and contemplated touching myself. As I scrubbed my body and waited for the conditioner to sink in, my hand crept between my legs and I massaged my clit for a few moments. I was ravenous. I couldn't help it.

But I thought of how Liam was right outside, and how Liam would probably know, and how Liam felt, and how Liam tasted, and-

I approached the brink. I was torturing myself. I had to stop. I had to stop! I ripped my hand away and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, yanking the knots out. Then I grabbed his razor and shaved the three days of stubble from my legs and my pussy. It sounds odd that I would care about that, but I preferred things that way, and I needed to cling to some sense of pride, especially today.

I got out, dried off, and grabbed Liam's comb to comb out my hair. I used his mouthwash to rinse out my mouth. When I was done, I walked back into his room and found him dressed and waiting. He looked me over.

"You tried, didn't you," he said.

"I couldn't help it. But I stopped myself."

"Good girl. Look at you, you even shaved."

"Yes, Sir."

"Hmm . . ."

"What?"

"I'm regretting not havin' you for breakfast. Come on, we have to go."

"Can't I put something on? I'm naked."

"I don't have anything for you here. You'll just have to be naked."

"But then I'll have to explain why I'm naked!"

"So? Tell 'em. Tell 'em how you were punished."

"And how you brought me to your bedroom after?"

"Sure. Let them aspire to be more like you," he said snidely as he grinned. I glared at him. He smacked me lightly on the ass. I bit my lip at the sting.

We parted at the dining room where the other women were assembled. I didn't know what to say. I almost asked if I would see him later. I felt lost, suddenly.

"I'll come to get you before your shift starts."

"Oh. Okay."

He looked inside the room as I watched him and he said, "Don't worry. Mindy's not mad at you."

"I'm more worried about strangers fucking me, to be honest."

Liam put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

I watched as he walked down the hall and turned a corner, and then I went inside the dining room.

There were five more there today. Two of them were pregnant. Where had they all come from? How much more did I have to learn about this place?

I found Mindy and sat across from her, thinking of Liam once again as my ass touched the seat. Mindy was lazily stirring her coffee, her chin in her palm.

"Mindy."

"Yes, Viv?"

"Please tell me you forgive me."




The Farm Ch. 06



"For what?" she asked as her eyes opened wide.

"What do you mean, 'For what'? For last night."

Mindy smiled at me and said, "You are nuts. Why would you think I blamed you?"

"Because I was the one hitting you!"

The girls all stopped chattering. Mindy rolled her eyes and said, "Well now this, I may be mad about."

I shut my mouth and lowered my head. She giggled, "Vivienne! You're being too hard on yourself – and if anyone knows how hard you can be, it's me."

How could she joke? How could she be so fucking cheery? "Tell me you know I didn't want to do it!"

Mindy reached her hand out and took mine. "Of course I know, Vivienne. Liam was punishing you. I know."

"I just don't understand why he made me punish you! Why he made me choose!"

"It's a new one, I'll give ya that. I don't think any of the other girls have had to use their own whipping girl for their transgressions."

The girls all tittered and chirped, asking what happened. So I explained, from start to finish.

When I was done they were all looking at me wide-eyed, like I had grown four heads.

Sarah was the first to ask, "Why would you do that to your Master?"

I looked at Mindy, who shrugged as she sipped her coffee. The food started arriving and I tried to avoid eye contact with Alicia. I mumbled thank you as she wordlessly set a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon in front of me.

And then I answered Sarah with the best lie I could come up with. "I thought he would like it."

Sarah laughed at me. "You thought he'd like it?! He's the dominant one, not you! You deserved your punishment, if only for bein' stupid!"

I wanted to punch her in the face. Instead, I ripped a piece of toast off with my teeth and said, "He was being punished for breaking the rules. I thought he broke the rules because he liked being punished."

"But enjoy being punished by you? A slave? Ha! You are so ungrateful! How could you do that to Liam?" She lowered her voice, "He's the best one!"

The girls all agreed, and I listened as they regaled each other with stories of when Liam had taken them. I lowered my eyes to my food and tried to tune them out. Mindy kicked me under the table, gently.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, fine."

"Wanna talk later? I won't be done until late but if you want, I can wake you up."

My mind flashed to how Mindy's body felt on my hands, how she tasted on my lips, and I smiled and said, "Sure."

Pam interrupted and asked me, "So are you sorry? Truly sorry?"

"Yes, actually. I don't know what I was thinking. Now I know that Liam is truly my Master. I'll never doubt it again," I said somewhat facetiously.

Pam just smiled and said, "Good. I'm so glad for you. It's always wonderful when we find our way back to the truth."

I cleared my throat and glanced at Mindy. "Yes, yes it is."

I had a feeling that she'd have asked me that same question had I been there three minutes, let alone three days. I still didn't understand how these women could be so blind. Perhaps they never had sight in the first place. I wondered what tactics Drew and Fred used. By the way Pam acted, I guessed they used a lot of fire and brimstone.

I didn't even know if they were religious.

I wanted to know more about how Liam treated Mindy. But I was also afraid to ask. I didn't even know how to ask.

I feared that I was just a new toy, that he'd get bored with me once I was thoroughly used, once he opened up a new toy. Once he stole a new toy.



The Farm Ch. 06



And so the clock on the mantel ticked and chimed. Gordy looked up from his unread book to find Prize's blue eyes fixed on him. "Do you something to say?" Prize dropped his gaze to the rug and shook his head, and Gordy read the same page again. Gordy looked again. Prize remained on his knees, his head bent. The skin on his newly exposed neck was fair and vulnerable. Gordy shifted on his seat. He's done many things, but he didn't rape. He didn't use boys. He stood and walked to the armoire and touched the wood, ran a finger on the bronze handle, inserted the key. The cough again, deeper and rattling came from behind him. Gordy looked quickly, but Prize's head was turned to the window that offered a view of the hill behind the cottage. 

Gordy poured a sherry and returned to his book. The chain slid on the floor and Prize eased himself down on the carpet and faced the fire. His shoulder blades pulled back and his wrists still tightly cuffed. Gordy rose and walked up behind him and placed his hand on Prize's arm and unfastened the cuffs. Prize shrank from the touch but didn't resist. He kept his eyes on the fire. His skin was too warm. His face flushed. Gordy felt the heat rising from his body.

"Is it time?" The voice a horse whisper. "Will it be now?" He turned flat, dull eyes to Gordy. The pulse in his neck raced.

Gordy laid his hand on Prize's chest and felt the rattle. He saw the flutter beneath his ribs. He pulled the key from his pocket and the shackle snicked open and he pulled the unresisting Prize to his feet. Fear jumped in his chest. He had to support him as they crossed the room. Prize's cough filled the room. He lost his balance briefly and Gordy pulled him closer. They began the assent of the stairs.

"Please, I'll walk alone. I'm not afraid and won't look like I am. I did think my hands would be bound. Will they do that at the top? Where's my tunic?" Prize pulled free and Gordy stood in amazement; his sleepwalker was back. He watched Prize square his shoulders and climb two more steps. He turned and looked out, his gaze much farther than the parlor. "I didn't think it would be so hot." He turned to Gordy; his legs buckled and he went boneless and fell on the steps.

Gordy half carried half dragged Prize up the last steps and down the hall to the big bedroom. Hot, so hot and the cough and the rattle. Dread rose and perspiration tickled in his armpits. Gordy pulled back the damask coverlet on his bed and lifted Prize into his arms and placed him on cool sheets. He'd spent the afternoon trying to ignore Prize. He hadn't seen the fever advancing. He ignored the coughs. He should have noticed more. He pulled up the blankets and coverlet and tucked them around Prize. He picked up his unresisting arm and tucked it under the blankets. Eyes moved under closed lids. The lips were dry and pale. Gordy left him and went to the well for cool water. The sun burned blood red as it sank behind the hill. The sky to the east grew purple. Gordy filled the pitcher and returned to the cottage. He stopped at the door and listened. Nothing but the tick of the mantel clock. Then the cough.

He sat on the bed, one knee bent on the coverlet the other on the floor and lifted Prize and supported his head. He placed the cup to his lips. "Here, drink." Most of the water ran down Prize's chin and onto his chest. He shivered.

***

The caravan overtook the lama as he rested on a rock by the side of the trail. Old and yellow, his staff in one thin hand he stood only five feet tall with robes of saffron and pointed yellow hat on his bald head. The monk extended his begging bowl. Aarmaan paused and placed his flat bread in the worn bowl. He offered him a drink from his skin of water. The monk drank deeply his obsidian eyes fixed on Aarmaan's blue.

"Blessings on you for your kindness." He lifted the bread to his lips.

Aarmaan smiled and shifted the jazail on his shoulder. "Are you traveling far?"

The lama smiled. "All mankind travels far. Am I no different. I also hope to visit the sea. To enjoy a great stretch of water."

"We stop soon to make camp. Come with me and I'll see you get a seat near the fire and hot food." Aarmaan extended his hand to help the old man to his feet. "There will be stories."

"How can I say no to such a grand offer."

And they walked side by side. At times Aarmaan took the lama's elbow to help him along. He told the lama what he knew of the ocean and the old man nodded as he considered the merits of a vast water. Their progress was slow and they were overtaken by the Bactrian, The Cobra, and her white calf as she moved with slow flat-footed steps. Aarmaan moved to place himself between the camel and the lama. "She bites," he said in explanation. 

The lama smiled and reached into his robe and pulled out the remnants of the flat bread and offered it to The Cobra and stroked the great shaggy neck. "She worries for her child." The great camel turned her head and looked at the lama, twitched her split upper lip around the bread, and returned to her walking. "They are not so different from people. One great hurt and they return in kind. Thus it spreads. One caring touch and another will help with the healing." 

The white calf ran between them. The lama rubbed its forehead and sent it on to walk at its mother's side. Tiny dust devils danced along the trail and clouds raced across the sky.

***

Behnam finished his story and the men squatting around the fire nodded in approval. Eyes turned to Aarmaan for just the evening before he had promised a story. He began. He told of a one-eyed giant who owned many sheep and how he was blinded and outwitted by traveler called No Man who saved himself and his companions from the man-eater. The men smiled and congratulated Aarmaan on his story for there were strange beings in the mountains and it was good to know how to outwit them.

The lama turned to Aarmaan and a smile deepened the wrinkles on his face. "I have a story for you. Step away from the fire." The lama grasped Aarmaan's wrist with small fingers of iron once they were out of earshot. "Always remember this, you are a good man." Aarmaan turned his head away. "Believe me, No Man. You will travel far on the Wheel of Life. You will die seven times and you will save a man." Aarmaan tried to pull free and the grip tightened. "You will do these things."

Aarmaan never told Rahim of the lama's words when he went to his tent, but turned in his arms in the predawn and placed his ear to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. In the morning the lama was gone. 

***

Gordy lit the bedroom lamps and returned to the carved balloon-back chair he'd pulled next to the bed. Prize's hair lay damp with sweat. His face colorless but for two bright fever spots on his cheeks. Each breath a labor. His pulse fluttered in his neck. Gordy bathed his face with cool water. Hands clutched the bed covers. Gordy felt his own fear rise. He'd done this. He crossed the room with long strides and paused at the door and watched as Prize shifted his head on the pillow; he turned and ran down the stairs.



The Farm Ch. 07



Chapter 07: Fever

Gordy broke for the stable. He saddled his mare, hands trembling and thundered for the free-hold at the bottom of the hill. He kept from the winding road and took the fields bright under the moon that set the oak at the crest of the hill to shining silver. The mare easily cleared the first fence and stretched her neck as she surged in full gallop. Gordy leaned forward in the saddle and bent low over her neck. They met the road at the bottom of the hill. The small cottage waited. Gordy jumped from the saddle slipped and stumbled; he hammered the door with his fist.

An eternity passed before the door opened a crack and the William's face appeared. "Lord Downcliff." The head bobbed. "Come in." The door flew open. "What's amiss?"

Gordy clutched the front of the nightshirt. "Go for my physician. Take the mare. Where's Nanny Grey?"

"She's to bed." 

She stood there solid and calm as always. "She'd be dead if she slept through this noise. What's happened, my Gordy? You look like death itself?" 

"I need your help. He's ill." Gordy wiped his forehead with a shaking hand and slumped against the door jamb.

"Husband, to the doctor. I'll on to the cottage." She stepped back into the house to dress and gather a few things.

Gordy moved to his mare and held the bridle to keep her from dancing away from the old man. He gave him a leg up and slapped the mare's rump and sent her off with William flapping like a scarecrow on her back then harnessed the pony to the cart.

They found him naked on the floor where he had collapsed trying to escape the bed and room; one arm stretched out before him his knee bent, his tortured breathing filling the room, his flesh clammy and waxen. His lips blue with cold.

"I'll help you lift him to the bed. He's cold as a river rock." Nanny lifted her hand from Prize's back inches from the mark left by the crop and moved to grab his ankles. Gordy gently rolled Prize onto his back and slid an arm under Prize's shoulders and one under his knees and pulled him to his chest and stood. He carried him like a child to the bed and laid him on linen sheets and covered him with a wool blanket and yellow-damask coverlet. 

"Done then." Nanny Grey looked at Gordy in surprise. She'd seen what had been done to his body. All of yesterday's reclamation. "Build up the fire. Find bricks to heat and place at his feet. I'll to the kitchen and start the fire there. Draw water. Steam will loosen his lungs." She rolled up her sleeves. 

Prize trembled on the bed. He smelled the lemon. He felt the sheets beneath his back. His cough filled the room. He drifted away. Beneath closed eyelids his eyes moved with dreams. Gordy prayed the dreams were of the secret Rahim. Sweat tickled down Gordy's back. He was loathe to leave his side but there was a fire to build and rocks to heat and water to carry. He tucked a limp arm under the blankets.

Gordy slid the first warm brick wrapped in a shirt pulled from the dresser drawer under the covers at Prize's feet. The next at his knees. He pulled the covers tight to hold in the heat. Nanny arrived with a pitcher of steaming water and poured it in a basin. Gordy lifted the insensible Prize gently to a sitting position and supported him, hand on his chest as a cloth was draped over his head to capture the steam. Prize's breath rattled and the coughs rolled deep and hard. His arms limp at his sides. Another pitcher of hot water and more steam. Cooling bricks removed and warmer ones slid in place.

"Fetch whisky or brandy." Nanny barked. He did, stumbling down the stairs. Taking them two at a time on his return. "Rub his wrists with it. Rub his chest. More hot bricks." She bullied and directed. They massaged whisky on his wrists to increase the circulation and Nanny avoided the hurt skin at the wrist bone. She shot a look at Gordy. Had he not been so exhausted and terrified he would have mustered the grace to blush. 

The covers were pulled down exposing Prize's chest and Gordy rolled up his shirt sleeves and rubbed whisky across the pale skin, and the coughs rolled and the air whistled and gurgled as Prize struggled to breathe. 

"Get behind him and hold him up so he can get air in his lungs." 

And Gordy slipped behind Prize in the bed and supported him with his body against his torso. The heat that radiated from Prize startled him. He wrapped his arm around Prize's chest; he used the other to support his head by cradling it softly in the crook of his elbow. Through the remaining night they worked with whisky, steam, and heated bricks.

The curtains in his mind parted and Prize dreamt of drums like a heartbeat. Of a rope new and prickly. The sky blue, the one Rahim saw from the door of the shop behind the palace. There was a drop, sickening and slow, long enough for his stomach to turn over. The rope stretched. His neck did not snap. The rope tightened. He gasped for air as he strangled and twisted, his bound legs kicked. Urine burned his thighs. His dick grew hard. When he felt his body surrender and as the struggle come to an end, something pulled him back to the scaffold, the drum beat, and the drop to again kick and strangle and claw at the rope. Rahim stood in the crowd, Gordy's arm around his shoulder. He turned his face and Gordy smiled. Prize clawed at the rope around his neck and strong hands pulled at his arms and lifted him. The curtains closed. Prize rhymes with dies.

The physician arrived long after the sun kissed the branches of the oak. A grim stoop-shouldered man with long, white side whiskers climbed the stairs ushered along by William and found Gordy and Nanny Grey lifting Prize from soiled sheets. The room wet with steam and stinking of sweat, whisky, and urine. He waited for clean bedding to be placed under the man. He placed his ear to Prize's heaving chest and pronounced pneumonia. He poured powder into a glass of water and pressed it to light-blue lips. Prize turned his head from the glass.

"Make him drink." He thrust the glass into Nanny's water-puckered hands. He felt the pulse, fluttering. "I'll have of cup of tea."

Gordy moved slowly from his place by the bed, lowered Prize to the pillows, and follow the doctor down the stairs. They sat at the dining table. Gordy poured tea into cups with forget-me-not flowers. He held his head in his hands. William passed through with another steaming pitcher.

The doctor looked at him with concern. "You'll make yourself ill, Lord Downcliff."

Gordy lifted his eyes to the doctor and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "It's not my health with which I'm concerned."

"No, but it is mine. I can have people sent to take care of him. Discreet people." He cast is eyes at the ceiling. "You needn't drive yourself to exhaustion." He directed his eyes to the long scratches on Gordy's forearms. "What happened here?" 

"He's my responsibility. Mine. Mine to care for." 

"I'll give you a salve for the scratches."

The physician lifted his cooling tea to his lips and fixed Gordy with stony glare, "I'm glad your father isn't alive to see this. We were sure you'd put this, this, these," he lifted a hand, "behind you." The clatter of the cup punctuated his statement. 

***

The people in their circle called them Jack Sprat and his wife only the other way around. Lord Downcliff corpulent and short and Lady Downcliff willowy and tall. Her waist still small after five pregnancies. And of those five only two babies lived, Anthony, body twisted and heart weak and George one year younger. The others, the three others, were carried away in enameled basins covered by clean white cloths by the midwife under the direction of Dr. Fellows. More creatures than children, things to be suspended in formaldehyde and displayed heavy jars to the curious at a sideshow to make young women gasp and press against their escorts and snot-nosed boys test their bravery in the company of their friends and cry for their mothers when they woke from their nightmares. They rested on the estate marked by marble lozenges each chiseled in relief with the same words, Baby Ryman and a date.

Anthony was bound in iron and leather to straighten his back. George listened to him cry in the night in the nursery near the top of the manse. He crept to his brother's narrow bed and loosened the leather buckles that held the braces in place and rocked Anthony until the muscles relaxed and he slept. Nanny Grey often found them asleep and at peace in each other's arms in the morning when she came to wake them for breakfast and lessons, Anthony held tight in his younger brother's arms, blond curls and dark brown hair.

The tutor checked their lessons: Latin, Classical Greek, geometry, geography, history, and mathematics. Anthony knew his by heart. The same was not true for George. Failure to conjugate, amo, amas, amat brought ten strokes of the stick across the seat of the britches. George never cried. George didn't care.

At twelve years George urged his hunter over four rails and Anthony watched. Anthony played the Piano Concerto 21. Their mother loved Mozart. Their only other companion the boy who worked in the stable, Tom. The three of them roamed the estate. George and Tom adjusted their pace so Anthony with his slow dipping gait kept up. 

They stood at the crest of a small knoll knee deep in spring grass and flowers and scanned the sheep below. Behind them branches swayed slowly in the soft breeze. The shadows danced on the young grasses. Pollen floated yellow in the air and a chaffinch trilled.

"The Czar's troops," Anthony whispered. "They haven't seen us."

"Where?" said Tom.

"Below there." George extended his arm toward the sheep.

"We'll avenge the Light Brigade," Anthony whispered back. "See their commander there." He pointed at a black and white dog resting in the sun, tongue lolling. The dog turned its head toward the boys and gave them a wolfish grin.

"We've been seen. Charge!" 

George hoisted Anthony onto his back, his knees tucked up around George's ribs, and the boys ran pell-mell through the grasses and flowers stick sabers raised above their heads, war cries cutting through the air. The ewes raised their heads in alarm at the charging boys. An early lamb ran to its mother. The black and white dog barked. 

Back and forth they chased and scattered the Czar's troops until George stumbled and sent Anthony sprawling to the ground. The three boys lay laughing in the trampled grass and caught their breath. The dog set about its duty and brought the scattered fold back to order, but the damage was done to the pregnant ewes. The three returned to the knoll, Tom carrying Anthony on his back to allow George to catch his breath and spare his knee.

They were dirty and sweaty and victorious. George's knee hurt where it had struck the ground. His trousers torn. But the rout brought elation. They recounted their individual victories as they made their way back to the manse. Anthony's voice hoarse with excitement his breathing shallow.

Tom to the stables and work and Anthony and George to the manse and Nanny Grey who whisked the boys up the servants' stairs for baths. She clucked her disapproval at the dirt and torn and stained clothing as the boys regaled her with stories of their victorious battle against the Czar's men, their eyes bright with excitement. Dinner came on trays and their parents followed soon after.

He stood in the doorway of the nursery a furious egg of a man, his wife beside him in a mauve dinner dress, diamonds in her thick hair; she stood graceful as a treble clef. In his hand the razor strop his valet used. "You inconsiderate fool. You put your brother's life in danger over a stupid, destructive stunt." He advanced on George. 

Anthony spoke up from his spot at the small table, "Father, Gordy didn't hurt me. We were having fun." His face blanched. His voice trembled. "Playing." 

"Nanny, remove Anthony from the room." 

Nanny threw a protective arm around Anthony's shoulders and guided him to the door. They paused and Anthony looked back at his brother and opened his mouth to speak. Gordy shook his head and they were gone. The door shut firmly behind them.

"Remove your nightshirt. Bend over the bed."

George pulled his starched nightshirt over his head and dropped it at his feet. He bent over the narrow bed and bunched the coverlet in his fists. Ten strokes for the aborted lambs lost when they ran the ewes in their charge of revenge. Twenty more for Anthony. The strop fell. George didn't cry out. He didn't cry. He couldn't stop his body from twitching and jumping as the strop landed on his back and buttocks. 

His father sweated with the exertion and fury. His mother fixed her eyes on a framed print of a boy in knee pants and wide collar his head of golden curls inclined on the neck of a ruffed collie. George's knees buckled and he slid to the floor pulling the bedclothes after him. Lord Downcliff stopped the beating, turned, and left the room. George's mother turned and followed. The hem of her dress whispered on the floor. In the hall Anthony sobbed in Nanny Grey's arms. 

"Calm him with a lavender bath." She laid the palm of her hand on Anthony's cheek. "Don't be so foolish again, my love."

Nanny washed George's back and applied salt and vinegar poultices to reduce the bruising. The skin wasn't cut but blood oozed up through the pores where the strop struck. She covered him with a clean sheet and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Anthony wept in his bed and his iron braces.

In three days, George returned to the small classroom. He stood for his lessons. He botched his translation of Caesar crossing the Rubicon though Anthony had taught it to him the night before, and the tutor reached for the rod. George grasped the edge of the school desk and took his strokes.

In three weeks, George rode again. Tom saddled the red hunter and told George of the beating he'd received from his father for running the ewes. "But it was a glorious battle. I'm sorry for the lambs. My Da says his Lordship won't take my wages. And I thank him for that." He tightened the cinch. "Why haven't you come to ride? Did you get whooped?" 

"No," was all Gordy said and eased himself into the saddle.

***

Dr. Fellows left packets of powders and instructions with Nanny Grey. He promised to return in a few days. Nanny Grey threw the packets in the bin and sent William for onions and sugar. These she boiled in a copper pot and ladled into a clean cloth. The poultice, when placed on Prize's chest, caused him to gasp and turn in the bed. Gordy pressed firmly on his shoulders to hold him still. The eyes remained closed. The gurgle in the chest eased. The cough remained as persistent as the honking of geese. Dark-blue circles formed beneath Gordy's eyes. When he slept, he slept in the chair his head resting on his arms on the side of the bed. He lived on tea and whisky. Two of the scratches Prize put on his arm began to fester and Nanny Grey cleaned them with carbolic. The salve left by Dr. Fellows was useless.

***

It was Dr. Fellows who broke the news to the Lord and Lady. Anthony's heart was failing as he warned it would. It was only time. Anthony spent more time in his narrow bed and George roamed farther with Tom. But after dinner in the nursery when Nanny Grey put out the lights, George crossed the floor to Anthony's bed and unbuckled the straps on the braces and crawled into bed and told him what they did and saw. The hawk's nest, the cygnets on the pond, the pheasants hatching down at the gamekeeper's hut, where the fox had her den, the badger in its bank, an otter and her kits at the stream, and the lower kitchen girl and the married footman. He didn't tell him how she wept and struck with small fists against the footman's chest. He didn't tell him he kissed Tom under the willows and that his lips were sweet as wild strawberries, and Tom kissed him back. And when Anthony fell asleep, George laid his cheek on the hump on his back and cried. He listened to the slosh of Anthony's heart and cried and held him closer. The brace of iron and leather discarded on the floor.

"I'm not afraid, Gordy," Anthony said.

"I'm here. I won't let you go."

"I'm most sorry to leave you. Don't cry."

The rain fell softly through the trees. It pattered on the stable roof. The ewes lowered their heads, the black and white dog circled three times in the dry spot beneath a bush and slept. On the pond the cygnets sheltered under their mother's wing. An owl on silent winks plucked a mouse from the grass.

George held him close. That's how Nanny Grey found them on that clean washed morning late in August. The birds singing the promise of a beautiful day. George held his cold brother in his arms the back of his nightshirt damp with tears. Blond curls and brown hair.

The coffin was small. It rested in the main parlor surrounded by flowers grown in glass sheds removed from wind and rain and the natural turning of the seasons. Flowers bound by glass and lead. Candles burned at the foot of the coffin and George stood there in his nightshirt and shivered. He watched for two nights waiting until the footman quit the wake to hunt down the under kitchen girl. 

Beneath the coat and shirt, the iron and leather brace pushed against his brother's skin. It pulled his bent body. It left angry marks on his skin. He wouldn't leave him bound and hurting in the ground. He reached into the small coffin and unbuttoned Anthony's coat and shirt, his hands trembled. The brace pressed against Anthony's flesh. He undid the buckles and tried to ease the brace from Anthony's body. It didn't pull free, held in place by the weight of his body and the tightness of the coffin. George tugged harder. He turned his head from the sight of the blue skin and sweet odor. The coffin rocked on the cooling board over the tub of ice, sending a creak and rumble through the silent room. George felt panic rise. He listened for the footman. He pulled harder at the brace and the board slipped and the coffin tipped and fell to the floor with a crash. The footman rushed into the parlor, doing up his pants. Footsteps sounded on the floor above.

They found him, the Egg, Treble Clef, assorted maids, the valet, the disheveled under kitchen girl, and Nanny Grey, sitting in a pool of cold water and ice franticly pulling the iron and leather brace from his brother's naked corpse, sobbing and crying, "Not forever."

The coffin righted. The brace replaced. The clothing buttoned and smoothed. The servants hurried away. The Treble Clef given powders. The Egg a triple whisky. The under kitchen girl reprieved. The footman sacked. And the mad boy in his wet nightshirt locked in the attic until the funeral was over. There he wept and screamed, "Not forever," until Dr. Fellows silenced him with laudanum. 

Nanny Grey brought him food that he didn't eat, rocked him in arms he couldn't feel, said soothing words that didn't penetrate the hollow of his ear. 

***

Prize opened his eyes and looked at the room yellow in the lamp light. He knew well where he was and whose bed he lay in. His limbs felt heavy and stiff as he pushed himself to the far side of the bed away from where Gordy slept in his chair. Slowly he eased a leg from under the blankets and placed it on the floor. His body washed in sweat. His muscles trembled. He stood for a moment and the room tilted. The cough caught him. He grabbed for the side table to stop the fall. His legs gave out and he fell, pulling the table with him. 

Gordy lurched awake at the sound. He saw the empty bed. He lunged across the twisted covers and saw Prize a heap on the floor eyes open in fear. A moment and he crouched at his side to lift him back to the damp sheets.

Prize raised his arm, "Please, no."

Gordy lifted Prize in his arms. The arm and fist fell on his shirt front. "Please, no." 




The Farm Ch. 08



Chapter 08: The Cup and Eagle

Mrs. Featherwink thrust her fat fingers into the empty space beneath the floorboards and felt around in the hope that it wasn't gone. Her fortune. Her future. Dried mouse droppings rolled in the dust as she scrabbled at the empty space. She pushed her hand farther and touched nothing but shit and wood. If it had not been for the extravaganza at the Ganymede Club, she would never have discovered the theft, not that soon at least. Most of last night's gains lay warm and safe in her bodice the rest in her locked desk in the red room. 

Mrs. Featherwink crawled from under her bed draped in pink silk and sat on the floor, her plump legs and tiny feet, her pride, extended before her. She wiped her fingers on a lace-edged hanky and fought to slow her breathing. Reflect and plan. She scanned the room from her place on the floor looking for further signs of disturbance. Everything in its place as it was when she came to her room to hide the night's proceeds. She rolled onto her knees and pulled herself up, using the bed to aid her. Her knees hurt. Her corset too tight with bills and coin. The small box that held her few pieces of jewelry rested closed on the dresser. She opened it. The gold-washed and paste ornaments lay as she had left them. The music box that lay in the bottom played "I Dream of Jeanie." She'd paid a bit more for the American song. She slammed the lid. Whoever took her money knew where it was and touched nothing else. They didn't waste their time with trinkets. She snatched up the doll that sat on the corner of her padded rocker. The silent china face, apple cheeks and blue eyes. She lifted the dress and unbuttoned the body. Still stuffed with bank notes. That much still safe. The bulk of her money, her treasure, was somewhere with someone. Find that person and find the money. She compiled a list of suspects: Halden, March, Miss Liz, and that sneak Rupert, her great-nephew. All knew or thought they knew about her fortune. None of them knew where she hid it. There was Crippled Doris, too. She cleaned the rooms and emptied the night soil. She was pretty and fresh once until Lord Burnduffe. He cut her down low, a wine bottle broken inside her. Now she walked with pronounced limp, and her cunt useless. But Doris knew when to slide into a room and grease up her middle finger to help a client finish with a gasp and yowl , her finger found the golden spot faster than any other. A few firm rotations and thrusts then on to the next gent. Everyone happy.

Mrs. Featherwink examined her reflection in the silver hand mirror. She smoothed her hair. She touched her bosom, pushed so high it almost touched her double chin. A little powder took care of the perspiration on her upper lip. She removed a cameo from the jewelry box and hid it in her pocket. She descended the worn back stairs, holding on to the banister to steady her on tiny feet. The stairs listed to the left.

They all sat around the worn table talking in quiet voices and eating breakfast before settling in for a good sleep. March chewed carefully on the left side because of the teeth he'd lost to Halden. Four months and his mouth still tender. Miss Liz lifted her tea cup and smiled at Mrs. Featherwink. Rupert's chair stood empty and Crippled Doris was missing. Mrs. Featherwink looked at the faces around the table to see if she could discern the thief. Nothing.

She touched the cameo in her pocket. "Did any of you see spy anyone near my room last night?" The eyes around the table met hers. "My small cameo is gone." Distress bubbled up in her voice. She passed her hanky over her face and dabbed at her eyes. "It's the one my own granny gave me." She looked from face to face.

Miss Liz looked startled. Halden made a fist, "Alls else untouched?"

"Just the cameo gone."

Halden looked at March. "I'll turn the rooms to see if your cameo's hidden someswhere."

March glared at his plate.

"Thank you, my darling." She patted Halden's hand. "Where's that disappointment of a nephew of mine?"

Miss Liz smiled. "He's soaking his bum. Doris is taking him more hot water and some goose grease."

"Should have used that grease last night." Halden laughed and plopped an entire sausage in his mouth and shoved it to the side with his tongue. "That or gotten the mettle out o' the man with his mouth and saved his blind eye." He chewed.

Mrs. Featherwink settled at the table and extended her hand to Halden. He dropped a few coins in her palm, chewed the sausage. "As always, Abbess, I collected the difference."

Mrs. Featherwink pushed the coins between her breasts and smiled. Count on Halden. Always count on Halden. 

Doris dipped into the room and sat down next to March. "Get away ya crip." He gave her a shove and rose to his feet. "Ya stink of piss. Always piss and marshy madge." March went to stand by the kitchen door.

"How's my nephew, Doris?"

"He'll live, but he swears he ain't been that sore since Lord D. used him."

"Then he'll survive." 

Miss Liz sighed and rested her elbows on the table. "Times I think on him."

"We don't think about them like Lord D." Mrs. Featherwink frowned.

"No, Prize. Something 'bout him." 

Mrs.Featherwink nodded. 

Halden elbowed Liz in the ribs, "You were sweet on him." He looked over at March. "And not the only one."

Halden turned in his seat to watch March leave, that face like a rotten plum falling in on itself. He was glad he'd kicked in his teeth. "Maybe you'll see him at Ganymede, Liz." He looked at Mrs. Featherwink. "Any of the girls go out today I'll check 'em for your brooch. 

March went out the door to stand in the alley and laughter followed him. "Fuck that Prize and fuck him I will," he told the brick wall and touched his destroyed mouth. "I'll fuck 'em all."

Always count on Halden. Let him look for a missing brooch and find a treasure. 

***

When the packets of powders were exhausted, George grew anxious. He spent a sleepless night and by morning his muscles ached and his nose ran. The matron told him to stay in bed and informed Headmaster Bartleby that the boy was ailing. He visited George in his narrow bed. He placed an ink-stained hand on his brow. George looked up at the headmaster. "May I have my powders?"

"They're gone, George."

Gordy turned his head and rubbed his tearing eyes. The thought of the nights without his powders put ice water in his veins. He shuddered. "Are you sure?"

"Rest here. You're suffering from an ague."

But he wasn't. The shivers increased. The cramping in his muscles moved to his stomach and he vomited. His guts contracted. The diarrhea began. Headmaster Bartleby instructed the matron to move George to the farthest building, the one where the incorrigibles were interred behind locked doors and small windows. They placed George in a room with a high window facing the brown wall, a wall the sun never reached. If George spread his disease, it would be to those whose lives were already over. Easier to write a letter of condolence to a family that had no hope and give them peace than invite an inquiry from a well-paying family that expected a reformed son returned to them.

George vomited on his bedclothes. He shook. His bowels emptied. He called to the woman who sat outside his door to bring him his powders. She was a dour woman hired in Glasgow and brought to Sedgefall because she was steadfast and inexpensive. The sweat ran off his body. She poured water past his lips. It hit his stomach and he brought it back up. She changed his sheets. He curled into a ball. He stared at her in anguish, his pupils so dilated that his light-brown eyes appeared black. None of the other students contracted the disease. Not the boy in the room on the second floor who only knew two words, shit and mother. Not the young man in the room to the left who at sixteen started talking to St. George and St. George to him. He came to Sedgefall after he started killing dragons. One of his dragons was a little girl from the village. He slit her open hunting for dragon gold. None of the inmates of the farthest building became ill. What George suffered was his alone. He screamed for his powders. His face was bathed by the impassive nurse. He called the woman bitch, whore, cunt. And she collected her salary and dutifully sent it home to her aging parents. He saw Anthony at the foot of his bed naked and blue, dirt in his hair, the iron brace pressed into oozing flesh. At last he slept only to wake to more pain. Headmaster Bartleby wrote a draft of the condolence letter he was sure he'd send soon to Lord Downcliff. He wrote to Dr. Fellows. He didn't reply.

And when they were all sure the boy teetered on the brink of death and sure to succumb, he started to recover. Two weeks later he walked back to the dormitory and his bed by the window. The woman from Glasgow sighed in relief. The older boys left him alone, afraid of his illness. They left him alone for almost nine days, and Gordy grew strong. His color returned he put on weight. When they returned to his bed expecting the pliant boy who bent and knelt and called for his dead brother, they found him waiting with a rock hidden in the toe of his grey sock, a smooth rock he'd picked up from the yard. He was David with his sling. The boys fell back. The oldest tried to duck in under the arc of the sock and it struck with accuracy on the side of his head. He staggered and dropped to his knees. Gordy threw himself on the boy's back. He pushed his face into the floor. He hit him again and again and pulled up his nightshirt. He laughed. He stood on the balls of his feet and pushed. He made him bleed. He learned his lessons and avoided the birch switch and attended the switchings of his tormentors. He watched their buttocks redden. Nine months later Gordy returned home, strangely calm and changed, his head full of Latin. Amo, amas, amat. The relieved Lord Downcliff sent a note of thanks to Dr. Fellows and Headmaster Bartleby along with a case of wine from his cellar. He had an heir. George's mother stayed in Italy and took a Russian nobleman as her lover. Tom met Gordy by the stream beneath the drooping branches of a willow.

***

What would he do with Prize? If Nanny Grey had asked that question before Prize laid his hand on him in the warm bed, the answer would have come easily, Ganymede. The envelope with the cup and eagle on the wax seal of ox-blood red lay on the writing desk. 

The club had no permanent address. It met at country estates and quiet rented houses in London away from decent society and morays. Procurers of discrete resources such as Mrs. Featherwink supplied the entertainments and location. Men of wealth and certain needs attended to enjoy delights of the most exotic and specialized variety. Connoisseurs of a certain class attended to display their acquisitions, trade, and experience new delights. 

But not now, he wouldn't take his Prize to show and share. He wouldn't trade him for another or for coin. He turned to his nanny. "He'll stay here." She gave him a disapproving look. "What else is there to do? Should I put him out with some money on a country road? Is there an alley in London where I should leave him? He'll end up starved or in the stews."

Nanny considered and began to answer. William came to the door. "He's awake again." Gordy turned quickly and moved through the kitchen. On the pallet, Prize lay wide-eyed, hollow-eyed and frightened. He tried to push himself across the thin mattress away from the advancing Gordy. He fell exhausted and white. He kept his eyes pinned on Gordy. He whispered something and Gordy knelt to hear. He slid his arm under Prize's neck and shoulders and lifted him gently. He complied.

"What is it, Prize?"

"Done, is it done?"

"Yes, the fever's gone."

"No." Prize turned his head. "The bargain." And looked at Gordy as fear, hope, resignation, sorrow, and pain washed across him as quickly as leaves turn in the wind.

He had kept his hard bargain with Prize pushed far in the back of his mind. Gordy's anger boiled up and burned bitter. "Yes." He spat the word. He meant to hurt as much as the question shamed him. 

Prize closed his eyes and inhaled, "Then it's finished."

Gordy stood and walked out the door. The shells on the drive rubbed and crunched like old bones beneath his boots. He needed something to hold on to, to steady his legs. There was nothing. He covered his eyes and cried. He did not let his knees buckle. He planted his feet and stood, his back to the cottage and looked out over the hills swimming through his tears. Summer was ending and the grasses yellow and brittle. Gordy rubbed angrily with the back of his bare arm across his eyes and swallowed a sob, sending it down to twist and kick against his heart. He didn't know why he lied, led Prize believe he'd exacted his price for silence about Rahim, but it was clear now that each time Prize fought to leave the bed he was leaving him, escaping him. He added to his suffering when his only desire was to comfort. Gordy squared his shoulders, ran his hands over his face and pushed his hair back. He turned to the cottage, and after a false start, returned to the hearth.

He placed his hand on Prize's arm and felt the muscles jump. He started to remove his hand, to give in to the anger mumbling in his brain. He tightened his grasp as much to anchor him to the moment as to feed his anger. He knelt by the pallet, his knuckles white.

"I lied." So easy to say once it was said. "Just before, I lied." He ran his hand down his face. He needed a shave. "Because I was angry." But he knew it was more than anger. "Because I couldn't." Couldn't blackmail him, force him, rape him. He relaxed his grip. "I wanted you to think it was over."

"But it isn't."

"I won't ask you about him again."

Prize pushed himself up on one arm and tried to sit. He started to fall back and Gordy moved to support him with his body. Prize let him. And he dropped his eyes and saw the claw marks on Gordy's forearm. "What are these?"

"Nothing, Prize. You couldn't breathe."

Prize's hand shook as he placed two fingers on a wide mark, one Nanny Grey scoured with carbolic. "More than nothing."

"You couldn't breathe. I had to keep you sitting so you could breathe."

Prize shut his eyes and lifted his hand to his throat. "The rope." He turned his head to the stairs. "A scaffold."

"There was no rope."

"The rope was new. It stretched. My neck didn't snap." He grabbed Gordy's shirt to make him understand. Gordy watched the blue eyes stare and go flat. "They wouldn't bind my hands. I thought maybe at the top."

He shook Prize. "Stay here."

Prize touched his neck. "It's gone now." He looked down at the marks on Gordy's arm. "I did this." He was back in the room.

"You couldn't breathe. You were frightened. You dreamt."

"Please, I didn't mean to. It was the noose I felt." Panic fluttered in his voice. 

"I forgive you." The irony of what he said stabbed at Gordy. He pictured the slash the crop left on Prize's back. 

Then Prize broke his heart. He touched his soul. He sent shivers up his spine. He astounded him. Prize lowered his head and pressed his lips to the fiery mark. That kiss, unsolicited and soft, seared Gordy more than the carbolic, went deeper than the wounds. It was warm and innocent and redolent with regret. It was fearless. Prize lay naked but for a thin nightshirt in the arms of the man who blackmailed him, who threatened him with rape, who held him through his fever dreams, and he forgave him with a kiss.

"Don't." Gordy eased Prize back on the thin pallet as the cough returned. He composed himself. "I'll have Nanny bring you water." He removed himself before Prize could speak further. Before Gordy confessed more. 

They waited, Nanny and William, in the dying garden grown rank with the odor of decay for Gordy to finish talking with Prize. "Give him something to eat. Give him . . ." Gordy stopped and looked at his old nanny. "Give him . . ." He ran his hand through his hair. He pushed his sleeves over his arms to hide the scratches to hide the kiss. He tried to find any word but the one he wanted to use, sanctuary. He fought for composure. 

"You're worn out with care." Nanny lifted her hand to brush back a lock of Gordy's hair. He had grown thin and pale at Prize's side.

Gordy pulled away from her hand. "I'm tired of illness. I'm bored with country life." His voice hard as flint. "Shut this cottage. I have engagements in London." He pushed her hand away. "I'm returning to Leeshore for a fortnight. If you want anything after that, send a message to me at my club." He turned his back on them.

"He'll be safe with my man and me." Nanny dropped her hand. She looked at her husband.

"Give him something to eat." Gordy slapped at the dry lupine stalk. "For God's sake feed him."

His coat lay on the dining room chair, the envelope on the writing desk. Prize watched him as he smoothed his hair and shrugged into the coat. The envelope he tucked into a pocket. He turned to Prize. The pieces suddenly fell together: tunic, bound hands, the rope, Rahim. He leaned over the pallet and yanked the blanket from Prize. He lay there momentarily frozen in fear. An arm rose to protect his head. His knees drew up. Gordy grabbed the neck of the nightshirt as Prize tried to pull away. He tore the nightshirt open and ran his hand along the scar. A wordless sound of fear, a guttural vowel sound, fell from Prize's lips. Gordy took no notice. A scimitar cut? Prize was a soldier once, a soldier set to hang. 

"Never speak of that rope." Prize recoiled farther in horror. "Do you understand me?" No answer. Gordy felt his own fear rise like vomit in his mouth. He stood. "Do you, stupid whore?" His own voice startled him, fear for Prize and self loathing for himself. Prize cowered. "Say you understand." Prize turned his face to the hearth and tugged at the blanket, tried to pull the torn nightshirt together with palsied hands. "I do." Gordy left by the front door. He averted his eyes when he reached the well. The mare tossed her head. She cantered down the hill. Gordy held his back straight, his shoulders squared. He did not look back.

Two days to close up the cottage. Prize watched in silence from his place by the fire. William found him a shirt and trousers among those left by Gordy. They would do until workman's clothes were bought. A rich-man's clothes might draw curious eyes and questions. Nanny helped him dress. She pushed trembling arms into sleeves. The clothing hung on his thin frame. She never mentioned the torn nightshirt. She didn't comment on the slash on his back. She tried not to notice the shackle and chain on the floor. Prize remained silent. 

Prize smelled the lemon on the shirt and questions rolled through his mind. Why's, Prize rhymes with that, too. And too much for a stupid whore to understand. He went with the old couple to the freehold at the bottom of the hill, riding in silence in the pony cart. Nanny Grey and William told him his name was Daniel, Dan Prize, if anyone asked. He didn't ask why.

And the clock on the mantle in the still cottage ran down and was silent.

***

Gordy settled himself in the hansom cab and gave the address, his half mask of black secure in an inner pocket. His heart thumped against it. The air was cold and clear and the horse moved at a good clip through the streets as purple dusk deepened to night. The windows of the house glowed. An eagle and cup emblem hung from the gate. Gordy paid the driver and turned his head from the knowing grin and walked to the double front door. He turned and tied his mask in place with a bow of satin ribbon. 

A knock. His hat and gloves received and he was ushered to the main salon. A tray of champagne offered by a demure young lady with over-large hands and Adam's apple. Others dipped and smiled as they offered trays of canapés. Gordy never understood the attraction of the James Street Maidens.




The Farm Ch. 09



Thank you all for your kind comments on the story, and I apologize to you for the long wait for this chapter. In order to get a bit more of the story out to you, this chapter is a little shorter than planned, but I hope to have the next installment completed soon. Enjoy. 

Chapter 9: Rabbit Skin

Aarmaan smelled the sea. He turned his head to the breeze traveling inland from the west, a hint of moisture and a fecund odor that reminded him of sex and decay buffeted against him and lapped at his bare ankles, pressed through his clothes, licked at his neck, wrapped around his wrists, and crawled down his back. He turned to meet it. He tasted his lips and there was salt. Salt on skin and salt in tears and salt that hid under the copper taste of blood. He looked west, and on an errant updraft a gull sailed, its long wings with the distinctive backward angle at the wrist turned west. The sea. The journey almost complete, the journey with Rahim. He grew silent and distant. He felt the pull of the tide.

In the early morning of their last day, Rahim brought his horse to step beside him as he walked next to The Cobra and her calf and leaned down in the saddle. "Something's happened."

"Not something. Everything."

"The sea?"

"It's coming for me as much as I'm walking towards it."

"Let me show you, my heart." He called for a horse and Aarmaan looked back along the Silk Road and swung his leg over the back of a gelded sorrel and followed him ahead of the long caravan to the top of a hillock. The steep path twisted down the incline, a beige strip in the brown. On this strip Aarmaan saw increased traffic moving toward Tyr scattered between the blue and the brown like handfuls of broken teeth.

"It's there." As if saying it made it so.

"Look, see that yellow." Aarmaan followed Rahim's hand and nodded. "There is where I'll take you to buy English clothes. Select what you desire and give them my name. And there is where I sell the rugs." His hand pointed to a place removed from the main bazaar."

"But I'll go with you."

"No, my heart, you will go and purchase your trousers and coat and boots of leather. I will bargain and sell and do my father's business." Rahim placed his warm hand on Aarmaan's arm. "When my work is done, I will find you there, at the steamship office." He pointed to a building with a western style roof of slate. So easy, so mundane, so final. 

"And then?"

"And then," Rahim smiled, "You begin your journey back to me." He smiled and pulled the reigns and turned his horse toward the caravan. 

Aarmaan looked down the ribbon of beige and the city of broken teeth and the place where the brown met the blue and remembered what he'd told the lama about the ocean. The ocean he remembered teamed with wonders, great beasts and small shells. It held adventure, and when he was young it had thrilled him. This sea held dread, ready to swallow him up, carry him away. He also thought of the seven deaths and felt this was more than one of them.

Aarmaan turned his horse and followed slowly. The excitement of a journey's end rippled along the line of the caravan. The expectations of delights and money quickened the pace. Aarmaan watched his feet, each step in the dust a measure toward the end. He looked back and saw the imprints of his feet erased by the feet of the men who followed him. And so it had been along the Silk Road. He shifted the jazail on his shoulder and walked on.

They halted early to make a last camp. Better to enter Tyr at the beginning of the day than to arrive in the dark and face a night in the city defending against pilfering and large-scale robbery.

Rahim instructed that his tent be raised apart from the others. He unrolled three red rugs and filled two copper basins with water. He lit an oil lamp and placed a dish of honeyed dates on a small table of yew. 

The wind lifted sparks from the cooking fire and a boy came to stand at Aarmaan's arm. He touched him lightly and pointed to the tent set apart. Aarmaan rose and followed him. The flap was lifted and he entered. Rahim sat cross-legged on a rug in the soft yellow light. The tent flap closed. Aarmaan waited and Rahim opened his arms. Each step closer to Rahim, each step closer to the finish. And he stood beside him. Rahim reached up and took his hand and pulled him gently to the spot before to him. He placed the flat of his hand on Aarmaan's face and turned his face to his. A tear to be kissed away. A hand on knotted neck muscles to press and stroke away the tension. 

"I know, my heart." The vest of lamb's wool eased down tired arms. A warm hand slid in the embroidered slit in the neck of the kameez to travel along the collarbone and dip across Aarmaan's chest then retreat. The hem lifted slowly. Aarmaan raised his arms and let the fabric passed over his head. He closed his eyes and bent his head. Soft lips pressed against his back. Warm arms circled his ribs. "I know, my heart." He tilted his head and accepted a kiss. "Come lie in my arms." He did.

He heard water trickle into the cooper basin as a cloth was rung. Rahim passed it over his chest, washing away the regret of what was and the trepidation of what was to come. Again the trickle of water. The cool of it easing the heat on his stomach. The cool making his nipples rise. The cloth dipped again and circled his navel. It slid to his hip bone. Shivers ran up his skin. A dark head bent, a hot tongue touched his skin, fingers loosened the ties of the shalwar and he lifted his hips and the pants removed. The cloth ran over his thighs. His legs parted. And Rahim held him naked in his arms and bathed him in the luxury or water. And kissed him inch by inch. And the tears flowed. And his body ached.

A firm hand urged him on to his stomach and the cloth stroked his back and ran over his buttocks. "I know, my heart." A kiss at the top of the cheek. Teeth pulling the skin at the top of the cleft. The cloth descended cooling, relaxing, enticing, parting, coxing. Again the directions from hands urging him to sit. The copper basin's soft sigh as it was slid across the rug. A foot raised and placed in the water. The tickle on the calf. Removed and dried. The other placed in the water. Rahim knelt before him between his thighs and smiled. "I know, my heart."

The second basin, a new softer cloth pressed his pelvis. Washed his penis caused his testacies to retract. Warm breath and a soft kiss. A firm hand encircled his penis. Washing, stroking. "Do you regret this?" Rahim kissed the head. "Now that you are returning to the English, do you regret this?" A string of kisses up the shaft replaced by a hand stroking upward as the other moved in counterpoint. And moved in counterpoint. 

Aarmaan reclined and lifted his hips. He placed his hand on dark hair and let it drift to the grey cloth. "No." A shuddering inhalation. 

Rahim smiled as he looked down at him. His kisses trailed up Aarmaan's stomach and across his sternum. He encircled him again in his arms. He moved behind him and kissed the spot where his neck met his shoulder and pulled Aarmaan back into his arms to rest in his arms, to float in his arms. Aarmaan let his head rest against Rahim's chest to feel his heart beat slow and strong and a matching pulse in his lips and groin.

Aarmaan turned in his embrace to push with need and urgency against him. A hand fell to his chest, a soft kiss on his lips to calm and warm him. "We have the night, my heart. A night to love and be loved." And the slow kisses began. Rahim kissed the eye lids closed. The lashes tickled his lower lip. He kissed the corner of the mouth and the pulse in the neck. Each burning kiss leaving a trail of fire and goose bumps. The flame from the oil lamp pulsed in unison and painted the walls of the tent in warm yellow.

He stroked Aarmaan and relaxed him in his arms. His heartbeat slowed. His breaths measured and soft. His legs sprawled. His arms fell to the rug and his knuckles rubbed against the rough weave. Then Rahim brought him to quivering tension with strokes and caresses as his hand drifted down to the hollow of his throat. He stopped there to push his warm tongue against the hot skin. He lowered his mouth to capture the sighs as they escaped sweet in expectation and urgency. 

At last he lay Aarmaan supine on the dark-red rug and kissed where his heart fluttered under the hard muscles of his chest. He pushed him onto his side and slid behind him on the rug and began kisses between his shoulder blades to the small of his back and curled his tongue at the sensitive spot at the base of his tailbone. He bent Aarmaan's left leg upward and out and leaned over and kissed the softest skin where the leg met the groin. He exhaled a warm pulse of air on the skin of silk and watched the warm pulse quicken and throbbed. He touched it with his lips. He caressed it with his warm tongue. He let the quickened tempo beat through him and matched his breathing to Aarmaan's.

"Now." Aarmaan lifted his pelvis. "Now." His body gave a jerk. His head thrown back. The thighs opening farther and the knees pulled upward and fell on the sinuous patterns of the rug.

The lips danced along the skin. "Now." A pillow of silk slipped under the raised buttocks. The right leg pushed up and back. The heel of Rahim's hand pushing on the abdomen. Oil warmed in strong hands. The cool air. An adjustment of the hips. Pressure and opening. Rahim covered Aarmaan and slipped his arms up an under his shoulders and pulled him toward him. He warmed him with his body. Legs lifted to wrap around hips and movements slow and deep. Slow and deep. Aarmaan increased the pace in his urgency and need. Rahim moved with him to thwart his acceleration. "All this night, my heart." And the pacing returned to Rahim. 

And they floated on soft undulations and gasps. Their limbs wrapped slowly like the tendrils of a pea plant. And when neither could postpone their need, undulations turned to thrusts and snaps. Sighs to gasps. Aarmaan pulled his crossed ankles tight and pushed against Rahim's ass and propelled him deep and clenched to hold him inside. Again and again to be filled by Rahim. To be surrounded by Rahim. The world became Rahim. They breathed as one, they gasped in unison. The climax one. The eyes locked. Aarmaan slept in Rahim's arms too warm and sated to move. As he slept in strong arms, Rahim kissed the skin below his ear and whispered, "I fear those English will destroy you, my heart."

***

The walk from the cart to the door felt like miles to Prize. A dozen steps and a rivulet of sweat tickled down the side of his face. Nanny held him with a firm grip on his elbow. His feet shuffled on the stone walk. He leaned against the doorframe and started to sag as the door was unlatched. 

"A little farther, Danny. You can do it." And he could. Always a little farther. The room was dim and cool. The rug thin beneath his feet. Nanny tried to ease him onto the couch, but he pushed himself forward to sit on the floor his back to the brown fabric. He felt goose bumps rise on his arms and legs. He pushed his hand up his forehead and felt the sweat slick there. He rubbed his hand through his short hair. Not as short as a few weeks ago.

"William, help me lift him off the floor." 

Nanny placed a hand in his armpit and started to pull. William moved to lift the other. Prize resisted. He looked to the door to see if Gordy stood there. He smelled the lemon. The shirt. It smelled like him. He the cough caught him and he gasped for breath. He plucked at the buttons; he tore at the neck. A warm hand covered his. He looked up at the lined face, lined with years and care. "I know. Let me help you with that. It will be fine." She reached for a button. Prize turned his head and let his hands drop. The shirt was eased from his shoulders. He shivered.

"William, get me the winter quilt. Can't let him chill now." She turned to Prize. "You're here now." The shirt was tossed away. A warm quilt wrapped around Prize's shoulders. Nanny patted it and Prize clutched it to his throat. It smelled of liniment and dust. He looked about the room beyond the faces of Nanny and her William.

The room was small with only a few pieces of furniture. Dust motes danced in the sunlight. A faded print of a little boy, his head inclined on the neck of a collie hung on the wall opposite the window. Antimacassars draped on the back of an armchair and padded rocker. A low, rugged bench stood before the cold hearth.

The room darkened as a form filled the open doorway. Prize started and adverted his eyes.

"Yer returned then." The voice deep.

"Tom, come in and set. Heavy boots kicked at the doorstep to remove dirt. Long strides on the carpet. "This is Daniel. He's to abide here a bit."

Tom bent and inspected Prize, thin and sweating near the hearth. "So this is the guest at the hill cottage. The one that was so sick."

A hand hard as horn and thick as a foot encircled Prize's thin hand and squeezed it in a warm handshake. "I wish you well, Dan, and continued improved health." Prize turned his head and saw a wide face rough with whisker stubble. A broad mouth turned up in an honest grin. He considered the hand grasping his and wondered at the simple pleasure, his hand taken in friendship. His hand released, Prize again clutched the quilt to his neck.

"Don't talk much." Tom looked at Nanny.

"He don't mean to be unfriendly, Tom."

"Just quiet eh, Dan. Here let me help ya to the sofa. He shouldna be on the floor."

Nanny extended her hand to stop him. "Leave him. He's more comfortable there."

"Sure and ye know best. I'll start the fires. I collected seven eggs this morning. They's in the cupboard."

"Daniel, Tom's been caring for the farm whilst we cared for ye."

"True enough. Lord Downcliff sent word for me up ta the manor." Tom smiled with pride. "Things here are right as rain, Nanny. Pigs is fed, I milked the goat. Milk's cooling in the well. I'll finish unloading the cart and put Belle in the barn." He turned to William. "Rest yer bones."

"Come and have supper with us, Tom." Nanny swatted the broad shoulder. "And mind you take of yer boots at the kitchen door. Look what ye tracked on my clean rug."

The few provisions were carried to the door and the pony led away. Nanny moved the food to the kitchen and started supper. "William, go to the cupboard. You'll find an extra shirt there for Daniel. Don't wait for Tom to start a fire. Daniel's cold through. I'll make him tea."

Prize watched the sure quick movements from the hearth. The growing fire warmed his back. An old rough shirt often mended was placed next to him. From the kitchen the odor of frying ham. Quiet voices and the solid knock of Tom returning.

"Here's the milk."

"Mind those boots. Set and sup with us."

"Should I carry yer patient to the table."

"Leave him, Tom." William's solid voice. Cutlery on plates. A bowl of hot tea pushed into his hands by Nanny. She blew on the steam helped him lift it to his lips. She steadied the liquid when the cough shook him. She gave him a reassuring smile. The tea sweet.

"I'll bring you yer supper. Rest."

Alone. Warm. Voices drifted around him. 

"Ye gonna give him that." Tom's voice. "He's a man not a hedgehog." Firelight dancing on the rug. Nanny with another bowl and big spoon. "Daniel, here. Bread and milk. It's warm." She placed the bowl next to him. "You eat it all." A stern voice. A warm smile. A crease of concern between her eyes. Something about the barn. The kitchen door closed.

Prize looked at the food and waited. He was told to eat. He moved his hand tentatively toward the spoon and stopped. He knew it was a spoon. He didn't remember ever eating from one. Gordy fed him from his hand. Brutal and Cruel left him to pull what food they gave him to his mouth with his lips. To lick at the plate. Better to wait a bit than make an error. Not now. Not here. The shirt waited at his elbow. Should he put it on? Was it for him? He wasn't told to wear it. Traps and traps. Better to wait. Movement from the kitchen.

"Ye didn't eat." Nanny frowning down. William easing into the soft chair and lifted a long clay pipe from the table at his elbow. Prize lifted the bowl and waited.

"Go on now, eat."

The bowl rested warm in his hands. He dipped two fingers into the bread and milk and lifted a bit to his lips. He watched over the lip of the bowl. The bread touched his lips. Nanny Grey frowned. He returned the bit to the bowl. She leaned forward in her chair.

"Eat ye supper."

His hand jerked and bumped the handle of the spoon spilling it and a glob of milk bread to the rug. He waited for his next clue. He saw upset on her face. He moved his hand to retrieve the spoon.

"Oh, leave it. I'll get you another." She stood. 

William pulled the stem of his clay pipe from his mouth. "Leave him be. Eat the food, Daniel." William stood. "I'll have my pipe outside. Leave him to eat as he will."

Nanny moved to the kitchen and William rose to pull his tobacco pouch from his vest pocket. He stepped to Prize and placed his hand on the black hair. "It's as you want, Prize. Don't mind the spoon. Eat." He left.

Prize dipped his fingers into the bowl. He held it below his chin and scooped the milk bread into his mouth as quickly as he could. He drank the last in the bowl and set it on the hearth. He picked the spoon from the floor and licked it clean and placed it in the bowl. Nanny returned with a damp cloth. She bent and wiped his mouth and hands. He did not flinch.

Sweet tobacco smoke. "Betty, leave him be. Leave the man be, Elizabeth." William knocked the ash from his pipe on the heel of his hand and entered. "Leave the man be."

"He's ill."

"He's going to be fine."

Nanny stood and looked at her husband. "What would ye have me do?"

"Get ye to bed, Betty. Yer worn out with this. I'll see to Daniel." Nanny started to protest then moved to a door on the far side of the room. William eased himself back into is chair. "Prize, there be a small room off ta kitchen for ye if you want to use it. It has a bed. The door closes if you want." Prize looked toward the kitchen. "If the hearth suits better, sleep here. Wear my old shirt if you want. Burn that shirt in the fire," he pointed to Gordy's shirt on the floor, "If ye want." William stood. "Tom's sleeping in the barn. Don't mind him if ye hear him about. If you want for anything, call out." He took the candle and left Prize sitting in the firelight.

Prize unbuttoned the trousers taken from the cottage and tossed them from him. He rolled himself in the winter quilt and rested his cheek on his forearm. A day too full, the handshake, a spoon. A real spoon. An honest touch. The small room off the kitchen if he wanted it. His mind leapt from one to the other. But Prize rhymes with lies. He felt unanchored. He looked at the room dancing in the firelight. The discarded shirt lay in a heap under the bench. Prize extended his arm into the chilly air and reached for it. He caught a cuff and pulled the shirt under the quilt. He bunched it against his chest. He felt too weary to think more than Prize sounds like sighs. He slept and that dream came snaking through the flickering light back across the worn rug.

***

Alonzo Tidewell set aside the mess of papers. They told a tale of misplaced trust and arrogance. He rubbed his forehead and pursed his lips. He turned again to the list of dead soldiers. Next to the name Phillip Alexander Maycott the note, body not recovered. No recovery needed now. He survived. Another list of names listed the survivors, seven in all. Seven, now eight, out of all those men. Alonzo wrote the name of Horace Little in his notes on a much folded piece of paper. Find Horace Little and learn what he could about the Maycott. He turned to a young clerk, "Where can I find the whereabouts of this man?" He pointed to the name on the official list.




The Farm Ch. 10



Dear Readers,

A few of you asked me about Tom from the last chapter. Where did he come from? Remember the charge on the sheep and the boy from the stable, the one Gordy kissed in chapter seven, that's Tom. 

Thank you for all your encouragement, suggestions, close readings, and critiques. 

Chapter 10, Gone a Hunting

"Come to the table, Danny." Nanny stood solid before him.

Prize looked at her and recalled where he was. He looked down at the worn rug. Too much. He pulled the shirt closer. He clutched the winter quilt closer. Too much.

"Do ye want yer tea here?" Prize nodded. "I'll bring it in. Dress yer self, Danny."

The dawn illuminated the top of the wall next to the hearth above the picture of the boy and dog. Prize reached for the mended shirt and pulled it over his head. The work trousers Tom brought for him lay folded on the bench. He moved quickly dressing under the quilt. He didn't want Nanny to see him naked. The tea warmed him. The heat radiated up from his stomach. It pushed back the cold from his dreams. It meant that Tom was coming to call him Danny and smile and clap him on the shoulder and take him out to feed the chickens and hunt for eggs. That was his job, the chickens. Tom brought him a pan of feed from the barn and Prize sat on a milking stool and scattered the food. He didn't make Prize go into the barn not after that first time.

He tried to do what Tom said, to go into the shadowed barn and get the feed. Tom put his arm around his shoulders and walked him to the door, chatting about where the best places to hunt for eggs. Prize froze. Damp straw. The pony looked at him over the stall rail with its one blue eye and flicked at a fly. It landed on the sleeve of his coat sluggish with cold. It rubbed its front legs over its eyes and Prize vomited up his tea and bread on his work boots. Black spots danced across his eyes. He burned and froze at the same time. Tom caught him before he fell in the mess and helped him to sit near the rough fence.

"There now, Danny. Set here a moment whilst I fetch a little water." 

Tom left him and the world tipped. Tom with his wide grin and wide shoulders and big laugh. Prize grabbed the rail to keep from falling along the ground to be swallowed by the barn with its straw and flies and the horrors they brought back. Now Tom handed the pan to him and he fed the chickens and there was no talk of going into the barn. When Tom stood close, the flies didn't crawl.

Prize sat on the low milking stool and scattered food on the bare dirt. The chickens started strutting up the moment he sat down. White, brown, some barred, red, a lone black all eyed him and scratched at the dirt and pecked the grain. The rooster, resplendent in green-black and honey-brown watched from his lookout atop a weathered fence post, carmine comb at attention. Prize tossed some grain near the post to lure him down. Chanticleer, so Prize called him, distained the advance and held his guard.

"He'll nay come down, Danny. He's a right tough harem master watching his girls. Come with me, I've something for you to see." Tom took the pan and threw the contents out, scattering Chanticleer's girls. 

Prize followed him to the chicken house. Three eggs rested in the litter filled box. A nervous brown hen fluffed her feathers, making her twice her usual size. "Listen, Danny. They're hatching." The brown eggs moved slightly. Chirps soft and distant, an eggshell away from the world. And Prize watched an egg break from the inside. The sun rolled across the sky as the chicks pushed free.

Each chick emerged wet and near exhaustion from its toils and Prize marveled at each one. The effort exerted by something so small. Hercules never faced such a task. Prize picked up a black chick, the last to break free, and held it in the palm of his hand. It looked up at him with a quizzical eye and pecked at the pad at the base of his thumb. It vibrated. Prize cupped his hand over the top to keep it from falling and the chick grew quiet.

"Some'in, ain't it." Tom stood behind him. Prize looked up over his shoulder. "Some'in." Tom dropped his hand on Prize's neck. 

"To see something no one else's ever seen." Prize smiled at the astonished look on Tom's face. 

"Ah, Danny, it's a chick. There's two more." He indicated with a nod of his head. Tom hunkered down next to Prize as if changing his elevation might make things clearer. "I'm the first to see this one. It's from a story, Tom. The Sultan offered his favorite daughter to any man who could show him something no one had ever seen. A poor man brought him an egg. It hatched and the man married and became rich."

Tom laughed at the pure joy of such a conception. His eyes carried the laugh and sparkled with the idea and that Prize had such thoughts. With his laughter, Prize's shoulders dropped and squared and the knot that jumped to his neck at the first touch loosened. He lowered his cupped hands and the black chick darted across the dirt and under the wing of the hen.

"You might be its mam, Danny. It's as black as your hair." Tom stood and touched the jet hair above Prize's ear. "Nanny's got bread and honey for our tea." He removed his hand and turned before Prize had time to react to the touch.

Prize followed him to the kitchen and removed his boots at the door. A place waited for him at the table. He stopped. William slurped his tea. Prize began to pass through the warm room. Tom scraped his chair on the brick floor. Nanny lifted the plate and cup from the table and sighed as Prize took them and went to the hearth.

"Will ye walk with me to the smith's, Danny? The harrow is beyond my skill for repair." Tom raised an eyebrow as he stood in the doorway.

"More like a reason to grab a pint." Nanny's voice in the kitchen behind him. "I don't think Daniel's up for a long walk."

"I'll tote the harrow, Nanny. Danny'll be fine."

"And how's he to carry ye home after yer sodden with drink?"

"Leave it be, Betty. A trip to the smith's won't hurt." William tugged at her apron strings to punctuate his meaning. 

"Come on, Danny. It's not far." Tom jingled a few coins in his pocket and winked an amber eye. "I'll fetch the harrow."

"Take Belle, Tom. The harrow's heavy and," with a conspiratorial smile, "She knows her way home."

"Get yer cap, Danny, the smith's waiting."

Prize stood by Belle his cap pulled low and shoulders drawn forward hands stuffed in the coat pockets while Tom chatted with the smith.

Leeshore Meadows boasted three smiths, a ferrier, harness maker, two small shops, a chapel, coach station, and The Ruby Smoke, where Tom was well known and liked. He'd promised to stand the smith a drink there later.

Prize followed Tom in, hands still deep in his coat pockets. Dark beams, low ceiling, two tables and chairs, farmers smelling of cow and barn, talk of sheep ticks, a red-faced barkeep, his fat wife with freckled arms and an impossibly red fringe of red curls bouncing out from under her cap, and the best beer within a day's ride. Prize found a dim corner and stood observing. Tom brought him a beer and clicked his glass with his.

"To the first, Danny." Tom drank deeply and Prize followed.

The setting sun threw a bright patch on the worn plank floor while Tom joked and talked with the barkeep about this and that. An inclination of the owner's head told Prize he was the next topic at hand, and he dipped his head lower and lifted his glass to his lips emptying it. Tom excused himself and brought him another.

"We're a small village. Don't mind their curiosity. Telling it once to Harry there saves me from telling each one separately. I told him yer staying with the Greys. Come down from the North. Relative of William's. The story may change as it goes around, but not so much then. Drink up." He dropped a reassuring hand on Prize's arm. 

Two farmhands asked for the draughts board and Prize took a deep breath, took a step forward, and observed a Blackwatch opening. They were well matched, but neither too skilled. And he wondered how he knew that. The smith entered still wearing his leather apron. Tom bought him a drink. Laughter filled the room. Prize turned to the sound. Laughter followed Tom like a dog.

"Come on then, Danny. Nanny'll come looking for ye if we don't get back soon." He gave him a nudge and smile.

Belle knew the way, as William said, and Tom let her walk home through the growing autumn chill. A quarter moon hung in the sky. Stars glimmered beyond the bare trees.

"Feels good to get out, don't it Danny?"

"Yes." It felt good to go with Tom and drink beer and hear him joke and laugh. And it didn't feel like too much not with Tom there to laugh and steady him.

The cart turned up the lane and Belle increased her pace through the growing night, heading for oats and stall. Prize shivered as the cold settled in. He was worn out from the trip and eyes on him in The Ruby Smoke. He sagged a bit in the seat, and Tom placed his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to warm him. Prize let him. 

"Know why they call it The Ruby Smoke?"

Prize shook his head.

"Did ye see that god awful fringe of Mrs. Harry's?" Prize looked at the solid man. "Well's there's the ruby and they's name's Smoke." Tom let his head drop back as he laughed. Prize smiled and turned his head to watch the completeness of his laughter. And when Tom kissed him on the lips, Prize let him and moved closer. His lips parted to the second kiss. Warm, sweet, honest. Tom raised his rough hand to Prize's jaw and stroked his callused thumb across his cheek. "Yer a wonder, Danny."

And Prize knew he was not a wonder; he was nothing but a stupid whore and pulled away and turned his head. "I offended ye then Danny?"

Prize wanted to move back into the embrace of the strong arms. To fall into Tom's arms. To taste the beer on his lips and the salt on his skin. To listen to the steady beat of his heart. To be held by Tom as big as an oak. But Prize rhymes with lies, and he didn't want lies with Tom. Not Tom. He shook his head and pulled at his coat to hide the growing bulge in his trousers. A stupid whore. They rode home in silence.

The sound of the coach rolling by pulled Prize from his dream where the chains on his wrists echoed on the damp walls and Cruel whispered prophesies of rape and pain at the door. The voice rumbled like coach wheels. Prize jerked awake. He didn't know where he was but he knew they were coming for him. The shirt clung to his sweating chest. His hands trembled violently. He'd fallen asleep thinking about Tom's kiss, hoping there might be another. That Tom might try again and put his arms around him.

They passed through the small village in the early hours of the night and followed the road beyond to where the cottage lay near the top of a small hill. Not a twitter from the birds sleeping in the copse of laurels by a small freehold as they passed. The shells on the drive crunched under the wheels of the Growler. The cottage gave off an air of abandonment; it did not sleep waiting for the occupants to awake or return. Even before he descended from the driver's seat of the Growler, Halden knew they wouldn't find Prize there, but March didn't stop. He scrambled down from the box like a spider and jogged to the back of the cottage, sniffing the night air. Halden followed.

At the tip of each brown leaf of the dying garden a pearl of dew hung, glowing in the light of the moon. Halden ran his hand along the leaves of dry lupine and wiped the cool water across his brow. A few seeds clung to his skin. A Lucifer held to the stub of a candle pulled from his great coat. He lifted the latch on the kitchen door, and as expected, it opened. He snorted at the trusting nature of country folk. March crowded his back urgent to enter the cottage. Halden kicked back at him and caught him in the knee.

"Fucker." Hissed in his ear.

The kitchen, the sitting room all quiet. The furniture covered in white. A silent clock on the mantle reflected the candle's light on its bell jar cover. March ran his hand over the sideboard and lifted a pewter charger.

"Put it back."

March glared and replaced the pewter with a dull thud and walked to the hearth to challenge Halden. It had been an uneasy journey and he'd had enough. His foot rattled something on the floor. March stopped his advance and lifted a length of heavy iron chain a shackle dangling from one end. He ran two fingers along the inner surface and smiled as images of Prize rose behind his hooded eyes. Here was where he lay naked and chained. Here was where he sucked cock and lifted his ass for Lord Downcliff. Here was where he begged and said please. March felt his prick begin to stiffen as he thought about that ass, an ass as soft as the skin of a peach, golden and round. He had a peach once, sweet and ripe. The soft fuzz on the skin rubbed on his lips and made them tingle as he bit into the ripe flesh. The juice ran down his chin when he bit the cleft. The stone at the heart of the fruit brown and dimpled surrounded by deep pink. He remembered how he thrust his tongue deep to lick at the stone. And his fingers ran round the inner ring of the shackle as he remembered. Round and round. Did Prize swallow and lick the cum from his lips. Did he cry the way he cried when March came on his tongue then clamped his hand over the swollen lips and pinched his nose until he swallowed? Tears like dew, like dew in the dead garden he just passed through, hung on the black lashes. The shoulders pulled back so tightly by the manacles on the bruised and scrapped wrists. How he struggled to breathe and fought him pressed against the filthy straw. His chest pushed forward and straining for air. Nipples hard. The swallow. Wide blue eyes. And the two fingers went round and round the inside face of the shackle as he stood on Persian rug before the cold hearth. He smiled showing his black broken teeth. A drop of spit hung from his lower lip and caught the flickering light from the candle in Halden's hand. To fuck Prize. To fuck them all. To fuck and fuck and fuck Prize until his juices flowed down his thighs.

"There's nothing to learn here." Halden's echo carried back his unsettled voice to fill his ears and make his heart thump off rhythm. "We need to leave now if we's to get through the village before the farmers start slapping their cold hands on the cow's teats." March made his flesh crawl more so on this journey. More so with the chain and shackle in his hand and the fingers going round and round.

"What? Why?" March's eyes lost their flint and lust.

"So's we can just arrive and ask questions. What's they to think ifs we've been here sniffing around in the dark first? We's on the up and up." Getting back to business calmed him and settled the rabbit kick in his heartbeat. 

March looked at him and shook his head to help remember that it was the cottage not the cell he stood in now. "Right." He followed Halden out the kitchen door still thinking of peaches.

They camped on the London side of Leeshore Meadows to grab a few hours of sleep. The hobbled horses yanked great mouthfuls of grass. Halden folded his thick legs and slept on the leather seat. He tossed a blanket to March and sent him to sleep by the fire. He locked the carriage door. It wouldn't keep March out but it would give him a warning if he tried anything. He slept with his hand curled around a sap, woven leather around a lead bar. March grumbled at the arrangements but went quietly in the end.

Under his blanket March warmed himself with plans for the future when Prize was his and his alone. He unbuttoned his trousers and grabbed his thick cock and pulled it free. He'd been more than half hard since the cottage. His hand slid up the shaft as he planned the Afterwards. That's what he thought of it as. He'd get Prize and afterwards he'd fuck him good. He spit on his hand and rubbed up to the wrinkled, long foreskin. He gave it a tug. He pinched it and thought of Prize's lips tight on the skin. He inserted his finger and rubbed his slit. Prize's tongue. He glided his finger across the smooth head, slicking the leaking moisture as he went softly across, sending ripples of pleasure through his balls. To see his ass made deep pink with blows from his belt as pink as the flesh at the center of a peach. Twin globs to pull apart. The struggle. The locking out. The gasp as he forced himself past the clenching ring. His hand tightened and moved up and down faster. He pushed his hand beneath his shirt to twist a nipple. He didn't last long. A shudder and release. He failed to last when he thought about Prize. Next chance he'd think on that other one that starved. Liked them thin with their hipbones jutting from the hollow of their groin. Ribs sharply outlined. Shoulder blades like angel wings ready to burst the skin. It wasn't his fault he'd been nabbed and the boy starved chained in his hidden place while he sat it out in the nick. He'd been a good un too. Lived on water, bread, and spunk and did anything for it. But he'd been weakening. He'd barely crawled to suck at him.

In the carriage Halden turned uneasily in his sleep and tightened his grip on the sap.

They knew nothing of a black haired man at the coach station not one that looked like Prize. Country helpful, the groom sent Halden and March down to The Ruby to talk to Harry Smoke. He'd be there in a few hours. The groom led the horses away and sent them in for breakfast.

They talked to the harness maker and two of the smiths. March grew restless and wanted to go to The Ruby, but Halden stopped him. "Last stop before we gather the carriage and talk to the folks at the bottom of the hill."

"What?"

"March, yer as bright as a turd. He's not in the village. We's just getting information here. That little freehold's nearest the cottage. If there's any information about the goings on up the hill, they'll know." March looked confused. "Jest keep yer gob shut." Halden turned to the ferrier's.

He'd seen a young man that might be the one they wanted down at Easter's dropping off a harrow with Tom who's been helping at the Grey's.

"More smiths than pubs in this here village."

"Country life, March. Country life."

Billy Easter saw such a young man just yesterday. He wore a cap. Quiet. Didn't know if he were the one they wanted. "What you want with 'im?"

"Nothing." Halden wound into his story. Short and sweet. "His uncle lays dying. He sent us to fetch 'im home to say goodbye. Has money coming."

The smith crossed his massive arms over his leather apron. "Why here?" He didn't like the look of them. London toughs ugly and mean.

"We was told he might be here or over ta Lampfield. Lad's a sorrow but the old man loves 'im." 

Easter seemed satisfied with the answer. "Saw one like him with Tom at The Ruby watching the Nashdown brothers playing draughts. Ask Harry."

Halden thanked him and they turned to The Ruby Smoke. "All roads lead to Harry, March."

"Ain't but this one street, Halden."

"Bright as a turd."

"I remember the lad." Harry set two beers on the bar. Stood over there. Quiet like. Why ye looking for him?"

"Uncle's dying. Want's to see him." March piped in. Halden glared. 

"Poor lad. He came in with Tom. That's Tom from up to the manner. Tom's been helping the Greys of late. Good man, that Tom."

Halden felt Harry warming to his story and cut in. "Blue eyes, black hair, not much over twenty, not much taller than my friend here." He pointed at March with his thumb. "Where do we find Grey's cottage?"

Harry leaned his elbows on the bar and began. Halden hid a sigh in his beer and readied himself for a long story. "Take the right fork and head for that low hill. One with the big oak at the top. The Greys live at the foot. If ye go too far ye'll come to Lord Downcliff's play cottage. Spent all the summer up there writing and painting. Had to call Dr. Fellows in for a sick man. Why he needed ta go there when he has more rooms than ye can count at Leeshore is more than I can figure. The rich is a strange lot." 




The Farm Ch. 11



Some chapters don't end, they just get published. And so it is here. If I can keep the characters dancing to my tune, this story will end soon. It's a big if. Prize is acting up again and pulling things away from the big plan. I gave up trying to quiet him. He has a story to tell, and if he doesn't get it out, he haunts me.

Sandi




Afterwards and Before

"Here ye are." Tom handed the pan of feed to Danny and smiled. "Sleep well?"

Prize nodded and looked into Tom's face to read his mood, to read his mind. He saw a Tom unchanged. Open face, a smile that reached his eyes. No hint of the night and what he learned. No hint of distain. No leer. No demands. Prize turned his attention to the insistent chickens. His hand trembled as he scattered the grain. Tom walked off to the barn.

The morning went as every other morning went before the coach and before the fucking and confessions in the room off the kitchen. Prize began to wonder if the night happened. His body told him it did. He wondered at what happened. He kept looking up to locate Tom. Tom cleaning Belle's stall. Tom polishing the harness. Tom sharpening the scythe on the whetstone. Tom looking at him as he watched him. Prize dropped his gaze and picked up the basket and started hunting for eggs.

Tom found as much as he could to do near the barn door. He wanted to keep his eye on Danny. He couldn't keep his eyes off him. The hard things Danny'd told him in the soft lamplight in the small room. His surrender to him for whatever Tom wanted troubled him now in the daylight. He knew he gave himself over to him in fear and passion. He feared he gave himself to be fucked or beaten as Tom willed. In the cold autumn light, Tom's doubts grew about what he'd done. He knew what he wanted to do, make love to sweet Danny. Now he wasn't sure if he had loved him or fucked him. He knew he wanted to kiss Danny again. To make him tremble with need and not fear. He knew he'd never have enough of him. He knew he wanted all of him. His love, his body, his fears, his desires, his past. He bided his time as the morning slipped away.

The cart hitched and Nanny handed up to William a letter in her apron pocket to be posted to Lord Downcliff. A letter crudely written with much effort and discussion. Tom waited until the jingle of the harness faded. He took a deep breath. Now. Danny sat on the milking stool face turned into the sun, eyes closed his hands clasped between his knees. Tom coughed to let him know he was near. No repeat of yesterday. He called his name. The azure eyes turned to him. Wary. 

"I'll talk with ye, Danny." 

Prize stood not sure if he should run. But run where. He read the attitude of Tom's body. He judged the tone of his voice. It seemed safe enough. Perhaps last night satisfied him. He didn't want to be chased down. And he was there close enough to touch him. He watched the big hand move toward him. Open palm up. He looked at the scrape on the jaw, the bruise he'd made. The hand touched his arm. He jumped.

"Are ye afraid of me, Danny?" Tom looked in to the face. "Did I hurt ye last night?" He closed his hand on the bicep. "I'll nay hurt ye. I told you so and I won't let them that did near ye."

Too much. Prize felt the fear rise. The grip like iron. Now with William and Nanny gone. Now. Then let it be now. He heard the words. He wanted to believe him, Tom big and strong as an oak. He looked him in the eye and saw no guile. The grip on his arm relaxed. The hand moved away.

Tom smiled. "I was caught off guard. Yesterday. They's not many that can knock me down." His head tipped to one side to catch Danny's eyes. "I meant what I said, I'll nay hurt you." He laid his hand on Danny's back far from where the pink scar marred the skin.

The first kiss was soft. It barely touched Prize's lips. The second firm and insistent. The tongue pushed against his lips. Prize opened to it. He knew how to suck the slick muscle. He'd learned his lessons well. 

Tom pulled him close. He folded him in his arms. Prize let him. He kissed his neck. Prize trembled. He kissed his neck and tasted the skin. "I'll nay hurt ye," Tom whispered against the skin below the ear. Prize shuddered and shut his eyes and reached for the front of Tom's trousers with a practiced touch. Tom stepped back. "But I'll not have ye afraid. And I'll nay have ye as a whore." 

A blow from Tom's hard hand less painful. More welcome. The word knocked the air from his lungs. It made his stomach flip. His heart refused to beat. Sweat tickled down his back.

Tom stepped away and rubbed the back of his hand across his lips. He returned to his work. Prize watched him cross the yard. A few sparks rose from the whetstone as Tom sharpened a rake and flashed blue against the dark of the barn. He didn't look up. He didn't look over.

Prize watched for a moment more until he felt he could control his legs and went to the kitchen door, removed his boots, and closed the door behind him. He filled the kettle and placed it on the fire to heat. He found soap and a cloth. 

The small basin hung on the wall. He didn't want to use the room off the kitchen to bathe. The room where he said whore. That was Tom's now. 

Bathing in the kitchen was awkward and exposed. Prize removed his shirt and washed his upper torso with a bit of cloth and a sliver of brown soap that didn't lather. He kept one eye on the door. He shivered in the chill air. He ran the cloth down the long white scar along his ribs. He didn't take time to dry his chest and arms. Prize pulled the shirt back over his head. It smelled faintly of sex and Tom. The water cooled but he didn't pause to warm it, just stripped off his trousers and socks and washed his hairless legs. As he rubbed the soap over his circumcised penis, rubbing and rubbing, he thought about last night in the room. A climax at the hands of another. It was the first time he wasn't used and left to seek his own release as best he could. He grew hard under his hand remembering Tom's callused hand bringing him to orgasm. The giving and not the taking. The warm kisses. His hand drifted back and stroked the soft skin between his cheeks. A soapy finger slipped inside. He felt sore. His fingers long and soft where Tom's were hard and rough skinned. His hands hard, his intentions soft. His breath ragged. Prize rhymes with sighs. Always a whore. Always a whore. Tom didn't want a whore. His penis softened. 

Prize pulled on his underclothes and trousers. He tossed the water out the door onto the bare ground. Tom tested the edge of the sickle with his thumb. He didn't look up. Prize carefully put the kitchen back in order and went to the hearth, his hearth. He pulled the winter quilt around him and rested his cheek on his arm. He tried to sort through what happened in the night and in the yard. He slept. Dreams of a farm.

He walked through the ripening wheat heading for home. A boy barely on the threshold of manhood. The swelling heads of grain brushed against his hands and bent as he passed along. He looked back at the path he'd left in the grain. Green turning to gold. A lark sang. Crows screamed out their territory and circled above him, black kites against a sharp-blue sky. Home, he had to get home. The wheat reached his shoulders and tangled around his ankles. The low hum of insects and the calling of crows lower now. 

Something big made its way through the wheat. He saw the blades bow and tremble as it moved parallel to him. Home, he had to get home.

At the crest of the small rise, he broke free of the wheat. Over the stone style onto the low cropped grass where the sheep grazed. Below him the farm rested in a long valley. The solid two-story house of stone, the thatched roof, four windows above and two below, smoke rising from the kitchen chimney. The great cow barn. Stables to the left. The farm hands moving through the yard. The milk maids with their pails carried their burdens to the cooling barn. 

The thing in the wheat stopped moving. A crow dived and brushed his hair with a wing as black. He ran down the hill toward the farm. An old man tall and broad shouldered stood in the kitchen garden shading his eyes with his hand; he looked toward the hill and waved. Almost there, almost home. He ran faster.

Prize woke breathless. Tom brought him tea and placed the mug on the hearth, a plate of buttered bread next to it. He busied himself with his own mug and looked up at the picture of the boy and dog.

"Came from the manor, that did." Tom nodded at the picture. "Nanny brought it with her when she left. Used to hang in the nursery."

Prize sipped his tea, hot and sweet.

"That's the boys' nursery, Anthony and Gordy."

Prize looked over at Tom. He'd said his name and made him real. The name that lurked in every part of the little freehold. The name no one said to him. The name only used in other rooms. Prize felt better now that it was spoken.

"Anthony died. It broke Gordy's heart."

Prize waited for more.

"Tomorrow we have a job to start."

"You can't expect him to do such work as yet. He's not ready." Nanny thumped the kettle down on the table.

"I'll go slow. He needs to work."

"The chickens are his."

"Naught but a chore for little girls. It'll be the wall."

And so it was the next morning; Prize woke to feed the chickens in the chill autumn air. Tom rushed him through his morning ritual and thrust shovel, pick, and digging bar at him. He led him down to the dry-stacked wall that fronted on the lane. "We'll build the wall up to meet the laurels."

Prize followed the line of Tom's hand. A stretch of sixty yards to the trees. He nodded and set down the tools.

Nanny watched from the doorway as Tom drove the first peg and tied the line. Daniel swung the pick, tentative at first and the footer began.

***

Had the letter contained a description of the man driving the Growler, Gordy would have responded like the wrath of God. Had William and Nanny included Prize's violent reaction to Tom's touch, Gordy would have removed Prize from the freehold to the safety of Leeshore. Had Prize told of March standing next to the barn, Gordy would have loaded his pistols and kicked in the tulip-yellow door at Mrs. Featherwink's. Had the letter been more legible, more urgent, more cohesive, more informative Gordy would have whipped and spurred the grey through the night to reach them. But it wasn't and Gordy read it once and replied with soothing words addressing a lost coachman and the stress of illness, a five-pound note, and news he planned on returning to Leeshore with his bride in the early spring. At Caroline's request, he sent a copy of Far From the Madding Crowd. Gordy smiled when he thought of the novel in William and Nanny's sitting room displayed prominently as the Bible but unread. What would Prize make of such a thing? Always Prize.

Two evenings before his wedding Gordy visited Greco. A quiet home of some size and moderate stone decoration on a cobble street lined with mature linden trees. It stood in a section of London considered out of fashion and on the decline. 

Gordy let the brass ring of the knocker fall. The ring pierced the nose of a brass bull's head. Hairy and wild eyed, its nostrils flared. The horns long and lowered as if to charge. The Cretan Bull. Footsteps echoed within and a slim grey-haired man in impeccable formalwear opened the door and ushered Gordy into a well appointed vestibule and relieved him of his gloves and hat. He slung his coat over his arm and with a gloved hand, ushered Gordy through to a comfortably masculine drawing room. Gordy asked for a whisky. Paisley wallpaper in forest green, prints of hunting scenes on the wall, a polished brass chandelier, deep leather chairs in ox blood, an upright piano against a wall, a large fern tree near a statue of Adonis, a fire warm in the marble fireplace. A glass on a side table told Gordy that he was not the first visitor of the night. Gordy chose a chair near the fire, extended his legs, crossed them at the ankle, and waited. The pocket door slid open and the same slim man entered with a silver tray balanced on his left hand, a thin album of photographs, and a solicitous smile. No words were spoken. The whisky and album left within easy reach on a mahogany table. The used glass removed with an apologetic smile.

Gordy sipped the liquor and opened the album. Inside a series of pictures of men. A few pages devoted to each man. A portrait, full frontal shot and one from the back, and a costume picture. Each chapter provided a short biography and description of abilities. Gordy flipped the pages. On the page for one of the young men a purple ribbon lay with the word "engaged" stitched neatly in silver thread. Gordy flipped through the pages finding this reason and that to eliminate each. He paused at a costume picture of an African, upper torso wrapped in a shawl of some sort. He stood like a stork on one leg and leaned on a tasseled spear. The man looked down the lens of the camera with fierce black eyes. Gordy moved on.

The young man lay supine on the divan, his hand behind his head, left leg bent, torso turned slightly to the camera, eyes hooded. Long limbed and lean, hairless below the neck. Lips parted slightly in a knowing smile. Gordy rang the small bell and the host appeared. He tapped the picture with his middle finger and said, "How are his teeth?"

"Quite good."

"This one, then."

"Excellent choice. Shall I bring your drink along?" A purple ribbon pinned to the page.

And up the wide stairs past more prints and paintings. Down the dim hall. A soft knock. A sound from within and the door opened. The host entered carrying a silver tray with Gordy's whisky and placed it in a long-fingered hand. He bowed and left.

He stood there barefooted in his shirtsleeves and trousers. Clean and fresh and handed the drink to Gordy and directed him to a chair and went to stand near the fire. He looked up from under long lashes with dark brown eyes and reached for the top button of his shirt.

Gordy watched as each button slipped free. Slowly the shirt drifted down from the white shoulders and off his hands to hang by the tails tucked into the tight trousers. He stepped closer and knelt on the yellow rug. Gordy stood and placed his hand on the dark hair and directed the face to the front of his trousers. The first kiss light against the fabric. The second firm against the encased head of the penis. Hands to undo buttons and slide them along Gordy's thighs. The kisses continued, wetter now against his undergarment. The hand inserted. The shaft firmly grasped. The kisses joined by a pink tongue. Gordy's penis pulled free and held in a firm grasp. The tongue darting at the eye, circling the head, lips to kiss along the shaft. 

He knelt there like a supplicant at prayer in a pagan temple offering himself to his god. Softly he placed his cheek against the shaft and planted kisses along Gordy's inner thigh. He twined his arms along his legs and up and behind to stroke Gordy's back beneath coat, vest, and shirt and down to the buttocks. And all the while the mouth and tongue working: sucking, licking, dancing, kissing, his mouth pulling gently and insistently. 

"Remove your trousers." 

And he did without removing Gordy's penis from his mouth or losing a stroke from his hand or abandoning eye contact. Gordy felt his climax building and pushed the face away. Not yet. Not yet.

"Assist me with my coat."

The young man rose with reluctance and a final kiss but did as he was told and helped Gordy remove the remainder of his clothing. He took in his form with a practiced eye and smiled to see the flat stomach and muscled chest and arms lightly dusted with dark hair. He reached to stroke a melon-colored nipple, but paused his hand, fingertips short of their goal until Gordy nodded permission and was rewarded with a smile and a touch and soft lips. Gordy left him to lick and nip and nuzzle, and suck across his chest and always lower to the goal. Again his penis touched the lips and the tongue flicked against the exposed glands and teased the g-string beneath. Gordy hissed in appreciation. The lips opened and the penis slid into the warm mouth, deeper until it touched the back of the throat. The young man adjusted his position slightly, moving between Gordy's legs and easing down on his own claves he dropped his head back slightly to create a straight line and began to swallow. Hot and tight. Gordy felt the head of his penis bump the larynx. And like a sword swallower in the side show, the young man swallowed and swallowed. Gordy laid his hand against the throat and felt the passage of his member as he pulled out and in. So enthralled by the delightful passage Gordy forgot about the person attached to tongue, mouth, and esophagus until a soft push on his thighs and gurgle returned him to the room with the yellow rug. 

He pulled out and the man gasped then returned to kissing and licking the dorsal side from base to slit. 

Gordy groaned in animal satisfaction as he came. The young man moved quickly to capture the pearls on his tongue. Those that escaped his quick mouth, he licked from his lips and scooped up from his chin with his fingers. He sat before Gordy licking his fingers clean then with a questioning look at Gordy moved to gently lick clean the satin tip of his penis. He curled his legs beneath him and eased Gordy back into the embrace of the chair and pulled his balls into his mouth and rolled them on his tongue. Gordy sighed and let the tension in his muscles float away. He reached for his whisky and found the glass empty. The sound of the empty glass on wood roused the young man, and he uncurled himself and walked with fluid movements to a crystal decanter and poured more amber liquid into the glass. Gordy heard the trickle of water and a cool cloth pressed against his neck. Fingers massaged his shoulders, drifting down across his pectoral muscles to tease his nipples. His body glowed; his legs fell open; the young man returned to the floor at his feet and kissed his instep. Gordy enjoyed the view of his bent back and leaned forward to wrap his fingers in the long hair and pull the head back sharply.

"Bring the ottoman here."

The man obeyed. His rigid penis bounced as he walked to the yellow and green piece. He slid it slowly in front of Gordy, giving him a lovely view of his buttocks, and produced a large linen cloth to cover the fine tufted materiel and waited.

Gordy stood and walked to him carrying his glass. He tipped the head back and poured the whisky past the puffy lips. He drank. He drank again. The glass emptied. His blush grew deeper. Gordy refilled his own glass and settled back in the chair and designed the scenario. 

"Move it closer."

It was done.

"Lie on your back."

He did still hard. Like a beautiful offering on an Aztec blood altar. Feet flat on the floor head fallen over the far edge, arms languidly drooping toward the floor. Gordy stood with his glass and walked the three steps to him and knelt. He dribbled the whisky on the belly and drank it slowly from the hollow of the navel. He licked the smooth skin of the abdomen. He twisted a small pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger until he heard a moan. A drop on the puckered nipple tip to lick and suck. The penis danced. The stomach rolled. The hips snapped once. Yearning into air.

Gordy smacked his chest. "Hold still."

Gordy ran his hands up the body. Light and dancing. Butterfly wings on skin as smooth as lily petals. The man held still though blood rushed hot just under the surface of his skin, and he turned pink as a tea rose. Gordy laughed deep in his throat and moved between the legs. He pushed the knees farther apart and ran his fingers along the soft skin between thigh and groin. He continued to tease and touch and lick until the young man disobeyed and snapped his pelvis just once in desire. Gordy smiled.