Kidnapped At The Farm

“That’s it, take the bait you bastard,” I think as I keep talking to the person on the other end of the line. My name is Blanca and I’m 22 years old. I’m a simple farm girl from New England, and I’m here to bring down the evil that is Cow’s Milk Inc. And I think finally I’ll be able to do it.

You see Cow’s Milk Inc is a company that claims they are a farm. Oh, if you listen to their commercials you would think they are the farm that your grandparents live on. Every time I see or hear any of their commercials, I can feel my blood begin to boil just a bit.

Their main product is specialty milk which they market as gluten-free, hormone free and so on. It’s the type that the farmer’s market crowd goes wild over because they don’t know anything. I’ve actually tasted it, once, and it’s crap. I think powered milk tastes better. But because they say it’s specialty they can sell it for like $20 for a half-gallon.

But all of us real farmers know what they are, and that’s a damn sweatshop for animals. Companies like them pop up from time to time, where they try to get as much as they can from the cheapest animals. They hire idiots that don’t know what they are doing and they use and abuse animals because they don’t take care of them like they are supposed to. Sure, there are laws about such stuff, but there’s just being a good human being too.

You want to know how we know something’s going on? It’s because they are keeping everything real secret. They don’t allow anyone to visit their farm. No tours, no farmer-to-farmer courtesy, nothing. Only those who are hiding something do that as us every farm owner I’ve known will let you tour at least a bit of their farm.

For the past 4 months I’ve been trying to figure a way onto their property to try and see what’s really going on. I know if I just got 5 minutes on site, then I would have all the evidence I need to bring them down. To put every single one of those bastards that dare call themselves farmers in jail.

But getting onto their farm has been extremely hard. I’ve been a farm girl all my life and all farms I have ever seen have been on are out in the open, with maybe a simple fence surrounding it to keep livestock in. Cow’s Milk has a damn 10 foot stone wall surrounding their property like a freaking castle, making it impossible to even look in. The only way in or out is a manned gate that is guarded by several guards. And these guards aren’t cheap rent-a-cops but hulking men that look like ex-military.

I’ve tried everything I could of to get inside. At first I called as a local farm hand to see if I could get a tour since I’m in the same industry. When that failed I tried to see if they gave tours to the public. After I tried to see about job openings, but they must use a service or something because I couldn’t find a single job posted. I got so desperate that one night I drove their with a ladder thinking I could hop the fence, but their cameras spotted me and I got run off.

“Representative Miller?” the woman on the other end of the line asks upon returning to the line. Yep. That’s right. I’m pretending to be a State Official. Called them up and said how I’ve heard some good and bad reports about the place and would just like a quick glance around to quell anything before it starts heading into the state congress. Said how I could be a great ally if everything is up to code or a terrible foe if it isn’t. And boy, they’ve taken the bait.

“Yes, I’m here,” I respond in my best fancy, high class tone. “I just spoke with the Joe Pine, our Head Farmer, which is what we call the CEO, and he would be delighted to give you a personal tour of the facility. How is noon for you today?” She says, her voice very friendly. As she says this, I think to myself, “yeah bitch, we’ll see how friendly you are when you are wearing an orange jump suit and are somebody’s bitch.”

“That sounds utterly perfect. Thank you,” I say, faking my friendly voice. From this she gives me directions to the facility and instructs me to go to the main gate and to park at the nearby parking lot. That once I get there, the Head Farmer will greet me personally and give me the tour.

When I get off the phone, I do a dance. It’s a celebration dance. Finally! I got a way in! I’m finally going to take the bastards down! Not bad for a small time farm girl, is it? People think because I spend my day tending to horses that I’m not smart. Well no one else has been able to get inside.

Hell, maybe I’ll be able to punch a few people while I’m there. I mean at 5 feet 10 inches I tower over most other females but I’m muscular thanks to working at the farm, so I’m not scared to throw down if needed against any guy. But I know I need to keep my cool. I have to pass for an elected person.

I look at the clock and rush to my bedroom when I see I don’t have much time to get ready. Most of the time I’m comfortable wearing a sturdy work shirt and a pair of blue jeans without any makeup. But since I need to look like an elected official, I need to doll myself up.

Roughly 45 minutes later, I head out my front door looking rather good if I say so myself. I’m wearing my long black skirt, or what I call my “fuck-me” skirt, and my professional looking white blouse. I’ve put full makeup on, my lips ruby red, blush and a hint of shadowy eye shadow to make my eyes pop. On purpose I went with a “classy” look instead of sexy. But best of all, I have an old cell phone hidden in the waistband of my skirt, already recording. They’ll never even know it’s there.

Hardly able to contain my excitement, I drive towards Cow’s Milk Inc’s farm in my old pickup. I considered telling someone (or everyone) that I finally found a way in, but I think it’s best to keep it a secret for now. If I did share it, one of the dumber ones might do something to get me in trouble, like post what I did online for the world to see before I get my evidence.

For what feels like the 100^th time, I turn down the old road called “Milk Drive.” Only this time I have been asked here instead of sneaking about. Going down it, there’s nothing but grass and country landscape until you spot the huge walls of Cow’s Milk farm.

Doing as I was told I drive towards the gate. The gate looks like a stone gate but I know that’s just paint because I see the tracks. There’s a guard booth right in the middle, and I bet there’s one on the other side of the gate as well.

To the right of the gate is a very small parking lot meant for visitors. I find this very odd as I think maybe 6 cars total could fit in it. No way it could be used if they had a large number of visitors. Do they never have visitors? Very odd.

Trying to act regal, I step out of my pickup once I’ve parked and smooth out my skirt. Already I can feel the guards looking at me, to which I want to smirk but instead I feel very uneasy. I’ve never been this close to them and can now see something I hadn’t before; they’re armed. Both have a sidearm and a disposition that looks like they wouldn’t mind using those guns either. This on top of the fact they both have the physique of a pro-wrestler, makes them very intimidating, so much so that I actually consider turning back and getting the hell out of here.

“H-Hi!” I greet as I approach the guard station. I try to keep my politician accent as I talk, but being nervous sort of stops it. As I approach the booth, neither guard reacts. They both just keep looking at me with stone face expressions with one inside the booth and the other standing next to it.

“Blanca Miller,” one of the guards says, but not as a question. It’s a statement. Like he knows who I am.

“That’s Representative Miller,” I say fiercely, sticking to my story. He doesn’t react to this. He doesn’t correct himself or even roll his eyes. Just keeps staring at me with that intense look.

Then I get a cold shiver of fear right up my spine. How do they know my first name? I never told it to the receptionist. I always referred to myself as Representative Miller. Or did I? Did I accidently slip my real first name in there? I mean, how else would they know it? I must have said it at some point.

I notice the other guard moving inside the booth. I assume this is to let the “Head Farmer” know that I’ve arrived. It’s just I wish these guys would smile or at least act like they aren’t prison guards as a very uncomfortable silence begins.

Finally, a loud buzzer goes off. When it does, the gate starts to open, with it sliding on the track to the right. It opens about 4 feet and then stops, like it doesn’t want to open too far. Since the opening is too far from where I am standing, I can’t see inside and I think it would give me away if I move to look.

A single man walks out. He’s a very fit man maybe in his 50s with salt and pepper hair. I doubt he is the CEO because he’s not wearing a suit. Instead, he’s wearing blue jeans and a tshirt. Not to mention he has the build of someone that works the farm.

“Hello there,” he greets in a very friendly manner as he walks towards me. He pats the one guard on the back as he walks by him in a way that seems to say, ‘you are doing a great job.’ His smile stands out compared to the guards as it seems to say everything is perfect.

“I’m Joe, the Head Farmer and you must be Blanca,” he states. In an odd move, he stops about 10 feet away from me, like he doesn’t want to get too close. Nor does he offer to shake hands. It’s a very odd and rude move.

“That’s Repres-” I go to correct him as I stick to my story, but he holds up a hand as if to say for me to stop. He even gives me a small shake of the head.

“Yes, yes, Representative, working for the state congress,” he says as if this amuses him. “We both know who you are, and that’s not an elected official. And dearie, you did a horrible job trying to pass yourself off as one too. A simple search online shows that there is no Representative Blanca. Heck, I doubt any official would be caught dead in that old hunk of junk you call a truck,” he says, motioning to my truck parked in the parking lot.

My heart sinks and then pounds as my face flushes. Cold fear washes over me as an intense heat builds on my face. That cold fear washes over me, bathing me in that scary emotion. Crap. Crap. Crap. They know. They saw right through it. How stupid was I to think this would work?

“Fine, you got me. I’ll go,” I say in my natural tone, knowing that this is what he’s going to say. But when I say this, he laughs as if he finds this very amusing. His laugh is very loud and powerful.

“No dearie, I don’t think you will be,” he says, a laugh still on his lips. At this I feel my brow furrow. Huh? What does that mean? Is he threatening me?

“You are Blanca Miller. A devoted local farm hand. A strong and willful female that loves horses, who doesn’t mind getting dirty and doesn’t take guff from anyone. And…a would-be leader of our opposition at all the other farms,” he says, still in that friendly tone. To this, I gulp as it is very clear he knows who I am.

“We will be giving you exactly what you wanted, and that’s to see the inside of the farm. To be able to see everything, from the farm hands to how we treat the animals,” he explains. I stay tensed as it is the only way to keep my fear down. I know something isn’t right. He has something horrible planned.

“Oh, you should know, whatever device you are using to record or livestream isn’t working at the moment,” he adds. I gulp again as I feel so stupid for thinking I was so smart. Of course, he would know I would be trying to record. Of course, he would see right through my attempt.

“We have these lovely devices set around the entire perimeter that disables nearly all electronics that do not carry our special RFID tag-chip thing,” he explains, flooring me. Hearing this makes my fear level go even higher as that is some Star Trek level tech. I mean, I’ve never even heard of anything like that before. It must cost a hell of a lot of money to develop something like that.

“You can’t scare me with all this,” I tell him and somehow keep my voice firm even if what I’m saying is a lie. I am very much scared but I do refuse to let him think he can intimidate me.

“And my friends and I will bring you down,” I add, showing my defiance by holding my head high. But after I say this, he laughs as if finding this very amusing. The way he laughs makes me feel like a little girl who is upset but her father just finds her too cute to take serious.

“No, I don’t think you will Blanca. In fact, I think you will be joining us, forever,” he tells me, wiping a laughter tear from his eye. It’s now my turn to laugh as I would never join them, not even if they offered me 10 million dollars a year. I’d rather die.

“We are a farm. And despite what you think, we are very legitimate,” he tells me as if he expects me to believe this. I respond by giving another fake laugh.

“But you see, our most known product, ‘Cow’s Milk’, isn’t what you would call our cash cow. In fact, it sells very poorly but…that works well for us because that isn’t our main product. I guess you might call Cow’s Milk a cover product, a way to fake our finances to the government. We are very secretive as you have seen because we don’t want to alert the world to what our real product is,” he explains. As he says this, I consider asking if he wants to go get a cat to pet so he can really look like a James Bond villain.

“What, guns? Drugs? Sex slaves?” I ask mockingly. A farmer making meth…how original. Or maybe I should have said he’s making a lazer to destroy the moon.

“No Miss Blanca. Like I stated, we are a real farm. And our product is milk. Milk and breeding opportunities,” he explains. I am very confused by this, as he made it seem like whatever they are into is illegal, but that’s far from illegal. That’s just being a farm.

“Mother’s Milk is our number one selling product, but as you know it must be sold on the Dark Web or in very select markets that would be considered safe,” he informs me.

“Mother’s Milk? What are you talking about?” I tell him, wondering for the first time if this guy might be crazy. Mother’s Milk is an old farmer’s urban legend. It’s the term that old farmers give to breast milk. You know, human breast milk that is produced in pregnancy.

“We produce very high-quality Mother’s Milk. A few ounces of it sells for $200 dollars as our buyers know it’s clean, pure and the best. There’s a very bright future in it if I may be honest as the demand has only increased,” he explains.

“Our second money-maker is more of a service, and that’s our breeding services,” he says. “We have a wide selection of candidates who have been tested, screened, and chipped, right down to a DNA marker test to find potential genetic markers,” he continues, proudly.

All at once it hits me. I don’t know why I finally put it together, but I do. When I do, the fear I felt increases. I can feel myself going pale as I try to convince myself that there’s another explanation. That this place isn’t what I think it is. That this isn’t happening. The fear is so strong it doesn’t allow me to do what my brain screams at me to do which is to run to my truck and get the fuck out of here.

“T-T-This….this is….” I stammer, stunned and scared. I do this a few times as he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. Only I can’t say the words.

“A farm for Hucows, yes,” he says as if this is a normal statement. When he says this, I sway for a money as I feel a tiny bit dizzy. This…this is a farm where you treat women as farm stock. Milking females for their milk and using them to pop out babies.

“And since we feel you are going to continue to be an issue for us, you are now going to become part of our stock,” he informs me, his tone still causal and friendly. I hear him say this but I don’t react. I just stare at him dumbfounded. The way he says it, I still wait for him to say, ‘just kidding.’

“It would be easier for everyone, you included, if you did as you were told from this point forward. I mean, you could attempt to make a run for it, but the guards would taze you before you even turn to run. Heck, they might not even use their tasers as we have the legal right to shoot anyone on the property,” he says as if making conversation. My eyes look to the two guards who still haven’t moved. And by the look on their faces, he’s telling the truth.

“And…the better you behave and do as you are told, the more rewards you get and receive less…punishments,” he adds on, showing he dislikes having to give our punishments.

“S-Someone will come for me,” I finally am able to say, my mouth dry. My words feel like the only thing I have to get me out of this. If I can scare them with words, then maybe they won’t do this. Only when I say this, it’s not the strong and powerful tone I normally have, but more of a scared girl.

For the first time in a very long time, my muscular frame feels small and weak. I know I can’t make a run for it. Hell, even if I did, I’m in heels so I would need to remove them first which would telegraph what I am about to do. And this area is wide open with nothing to hide behind if they started shooting. I can fight, but not against two trained guards who are bigger than me. The best I can do is not make it easy for them.

“No, I don’t think anyone will come for you,” The “Head Farmer” who I think said his name was Joe replies after he considers what I said. I’m taken back when he says this after seriously considering it.

“I doubt you told anyone you were coming here as you would have liked the idea of revealing whatever secret footage you captured in a surprise and grand production. If you told anyone your plan, it wouldn’t be a secret,” he tells me his reasoning, to which I feel my face redden again as he’s correct.

“And I’ll have your truck towed off and sold as scrap so no one will see it, and well, you would be surprised how easy it is to get livestock to reveal personal information, such as Facebook passwords, email addresses and phone passwords to convince the world they have run away,” he explains calmly. He explains not to scare me, but to show he’s done this exact thing before.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I do have a very important call at 1:00, so we need to move this along,” he tells me apologetically after checking his watch for the time. He then pulls out his cell and starts to tap away at it, showing he doesn’t even consider me important enough anymore for all of his attention.

“Go ahead and remove all of your clothing. Everything, including any hair bands or piercings. You won’t need clothes any longer,” he instructs without even looking at me.

My mouth drops open at the shock of this demand. For a moment I wonder if I even heard what I heard. Something like that is meant to be said by a creepy looking rapist, not a guy checking his phone acting like he has better things he could be doing.

“This is what I was talking about,” he states after a few moments, sounding annoyed. He then looks at me sternly, making me think of a father scolding his daughter.

“You need to be quick and do as you are told once you are told,” he says, annoyed. “Now…remove everything or else the guards will do it in their own painful manner,” he warns. Right after, the one guard takes a step forward as if implying he doesn’t mind doing it either.

Feeling like this is some sort of nightmare, I look down at my feet. In a single second I think a million thoughts to make up my mind about what I’m going to do. Knowing there’s no way to win at this moment I decide I’ll play along for just the right moment. Once that moment comes, I’ll know it, and I’ll get free.

Humiliated unlike I have ever been, I remove my heels. Next my trembling hands move to the button on my skirt. With a very red face, I unbutton the button and let go to which my skirt instantly falls to the ground, exposing my tab pantyhose and black panties.

What makes this feel so much more embarrassing is that the farmer isn’t even looking at me, but at his cell as he reads his emails or whatever. The guards look at me, but there’s no hint of any sexual thrill. They look more like they are ready to pounce if I dare try anything. It’s as if they consider me so low that there’s nothing they want from me, not even to see me get naked.

I feel my breathing pick up as I feel the warm air on my bare legs. Most of my increased breathing is from fear, but there’s something else I’m feeling. I don’t want to believe it, but I think I’m aroused. I’ve never felt this weak before. I’ve never felt someone able to control me like this. I truly feel like I have no choice or control at all.

Now my hands are at the bottom of my blouse as I am aware that my nipples have harden due to this arousal. I lift the blouse up slowly, showing off my flat and toned stomach from years of working on the farm. As I lift, my black lace bra comes into view, as I thought it would help me feel professional instead of wearing a normal sports bra. A moment later, my nicest top is peeled off my head completely, where I drop it on the ground to join my skirt.

Without any fanfare or pleading, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. It slides down and I use my left arm to cover my breasts. I’ve never had large breasts as I’m a B cup but every guy I’ve ever been with loves them. I’ve never minded showing them off, except now. Now I plan to hide them as much as I can.

Shaking badly now, I use my free hand to hook my thumb into the waistband of my panties. Then I pull down, feeling my panties slide down my hips, exposing my precious womanhood, if just for a moment as I cup my womanhood with my free hand. My face reddens even more as I cup my womanhood at the thought that these bastards saw it. They saw my most secret place.

Looking and feeling stupid, I step out of my panties to stand in front of them, completely naked, with me trying to cover myself. Humiliation doesn’t describe how I feel. It’s so much more than. It’s fear, terror, humiliation and more than anything, anger. In a way, I’m surprised I haven’t mentally broke at all that I feel, especially as I feel that dark arousal building.

“Now you look the way most people already see you,” the farmer says cruelly, making my face flush. He says it to be cruel as there’s no reason to say it otherwise. He knows he is in charge. I actually consider punching him in the face, but at this point it could very well cost my life.

“I mean, look at you,” he says, lowering his cell to look at me. Now the warm and friendly expression he had is gone. Instead there is a stern and powerful man looking at me as if I’m a bug.

“The strong woman that was going to take us down or go down fighting is now naked like a whore…in public I might add. Heck, I may put the security camera footage on the dark web just so others can laugh at you too,” he says and laughs at me.

These strong and mean words break through all my emotions and I nearly break down crying. But not from what he said, but from the fact I almost orgasmed. It just races up and I felt a blinding white emotion as my arousal burst like a firecracker. The way I feel at the moment at being naked and only having my hands to cover myself as he derates me…is incredibly intoxicating to me, sexually. And I hate myself for it, especially as I’ve never felt the urge to touch myself like I feel right now.

“Now, since I had to repeat myself earlier…” the farmer says as he looks directly at me. In that look of his it’s clear he doesn’t see me as a person. He sees me as livestock and nothing more. That’s why he was so friendly before because he knew there was nothing I could do or say that would affect him in any meaningful way.

“…You will receive punishment. Pick up your panties,” he orders. To this I bite my lip as my body still shakes from damn near climaxing a few moments before. As if I’m in someone else’s life, I tell myself I’m going to have to do it, or I’ll feel extreme pain or worse.

Slowly I bend my knees to lower myself down, figuring there’s no point in drawing this out. I have to let go of my breasts to grab my panties, letting them see my jiggling breasts but only for a second as I grab my panties and recover my chest.

“As punishment, put them over your face. You will wear them like a mask to show that you are so stupid that you don’t even know how to wear your panties correctly,” he states in that stern tone. I gape at him, completely in disbelief. He can’t be serious. I mean, that’s just cruel. But when a guard takes a step towards me, I know I better do it.

Fighting the urge to sob, I’m forced to remove both hands to expose my naked body as I hold my panties with both hands. My body trembles badly now, but I know it isn’t just from my fear. I’ve never felt this hot before. I never knew fear and humiliation would affect my body like this to the point I knew I could orgasm without even being touched.

I grab the waistband of my panties and pull to stretch them out. With a very red face I lift them and bring them to the top of my head. Now I pull them down on my head as if they are a hat or headband. I pull until only the left side of face can be seen via one of the leg holes as I pull my panties over my face, leaving me only able to see through one eye. Once I do this, I go back to covering my naked body.

Then I hear laughter. It’s the farmer. He’s laughing, his entire body moving from it, making the humiliation I feel even stronger. It hits hard and I get another white flash where I almost orgasm. I fight it hard as if he knew what I am feeling, it really would break me.

“Yes,” the farmer says, but says it in a way that implies he’s answering a question. He keeps chuckling as he looks at me.

“The answer is yes. You look as stupid as you feel,” he states very cruelly. I know I shouldn’t care. I know I should tell him ‘fuck you.’ But that snide comment really hits, just like his laughter, making me wetter than I have been in ages.

“Now, the first part of a new cow’s arrival is called The Introduction,” the farmer starts to explain after he stops laughing. He sounds more serious now, like he knows he needs to get back to business. I open my mouth to tell him “I don’t give a shit,” but it hits me what he’s really doing, which is to torture me. He’s going to tell me exactly what is about to happen so I can fret over it.

“The point of The Introduction is to humiliate you and get you used to having your tits, pussy and ass out for everyone to see. Not to mention getting you used to being inspected and sexually used,” he explains calmly.

“You will follow behind as I walk. If anyone wishes to inspect you, they have that power, regardless of position. They could be a farmer, a farm hand, a technician, even a custodian. But at all times you will do as I tell you, or face more punishment,” he keeps on explaining. The more he talks, the more I seem to go into a daze with what he is saying. I mean, this just can’t be happening.

“Now my little bitchy moo-cow, follow me,” he says with a smirk. Then he turns and heads towards the gate. He does this so fast that I have to jog a bit to catch up. When he reaches the gate, the guard in the booth does whatever and I hear the gate begin to open.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you that you need to keep your hands behind your head?” the farmer comments, not even turning back to look at me. At the thought of not being able to cover myself, I consider trying to run, but one guard is now directly behind me as if knowing I would try.

With no other options, I’m forced to let go of my naked body and put my hands behind my head so every part of me is now open and exposed. This makes me sway again as I fight to hold back the orgasm. As I interlock my fingers behind my head, I almost start to pant from the feeling.

As the gate opens, I stand there, feeling more exposed than I have ever been. I’ve been naked with plenty of lovers and even on a few dares with friends, but this…this is true naked. Like my freaking heart and soul can be seen. And once there’s enough space from the open gate, the farmer starts to walk. Feeling in a daze, I follow behind him, finally able to see what I’ve wanted to see for so long.

And…it looks like a farm. A normal, large sized farm. There’s the main paved path that we are on, and on the left side of the path, I see a huge pen over bare grass where several horses trot about. To the right of the path, there’s a gated field where tons of cows are grazing. In the distance I see several large buildings, as well as many barns, a silo and many other normal farm attributes. And as I thought, there is a guard booth on the other side, with two guards much like before.

Now I see all the people. So many people working here. There’s at least 5 people tending to the horses, with one of them actually riding one. Others are petting, grooming or feeding the horses. There’s people on the paved path in front of us walking to wherever, with another one sweeping it as well as a lot of people tending the cows in the field. But all of them, no matter where they are turn to look at me.

As if to make sure they know I’m the prisoner, the guard kneels behind me and swiftly attaches cuffs to my ankles. Looking down I find that the two cuffs are connected by a chain. The cuffs themselves look to be held by a combination lock, which means they are not coming off any time soon, but the length of chain connecting them isn’t very long, which means I’ll have to take short steps.

My face burns red as at least 20 strangers are seeing me like this. Seeing me naked, my own panties on my head with my hands behind my head. Seeing my bare breasts, my shaved womanhood and my firm ass. They aren’t seeing the strong and kickass farm girl, but a stupid and humiliated little girl that got herself caught.

The farmer keeps walking and I follow behind him, my bare feet feeling the pavement under me as I have to take lots of small steps. As I walk, I look at the ground to try and not look at any of the men or women looking at me. I do have to do a double take when I notice they have females WORKING here. Several in fact. How in the hell can they work here? Don’t they know how horrible this would be?

“Nice animal,” a female voice calls out to the farmer from the distance. At this I turn to glare at her as she tends to one of the horses, thinking I could kill her. Normally I would praise another farm girl, even though I know I am better, because we need to stick together in a male dominated world, but fuck her. Fuck her, even if the horses here look healthy.

“She’s going to be a workhorse, that’s for sure,” the farmer calls back, giving a thumbs up. She gives the same back to him, and I really consider punching the back of his head. But as if reading my mind, I hear footsteps behind me, and notice one of the guards is following behind. This basically kills my idea as I doubt I would even get a single punch in.

My small boobs jiggle and shake as I take all these small steps, hearing the clanking of the chain as I walk. I keep doing this as he parades me down the path, making me walk past so many people.

“Here,” the farmer says and stops suddenly. I then notice he’s pointing to the spot right next to him. Sighing I figure he is telling me to stand there, as if I was a dog or something. With my small steps, I move to where he points.

“Look her in the eyes, stick your tits out and spread your legs. You will do this any time anyone inspects you,” the farmer then states in a serious tone. At this I spot a middle-aged woman approaching. She greets him, to which he explains how I’m the newest livestock to her.

The woman steps up to me and it’s clear she means to inspect me like an animal. I keep repeating in my head that I hope she doesn’t touch me as at the moment, I feel the smallest of touches could send me over the edge and make me cum. This dark feeling is just to strong and I know that a female doing this will make it worse.

Doing as I am told I look at her with my one free eye. My legs part as far as the chain will allow and feeling like a whore, I stick my breasts out to her. The woman never looks me in the eye. Instead she uses her hand to grab my chin and make me open my mouth. After she looks down at my body, checking it.

“Turn around,” the farmer barks. Sighing, I slowly turn around to show her my bare backside. To my horror, the woman grabs a handful of my ass for a moment. Unable to help it, I yelp and step forward, which causes laughter from the pair of them.

“Not bad. Seen better, but seen worse too. Think her selling point will be that firm ass of hers,” the woman tells the Head Farmer as I face away from them. They then take about my ass as if I’m not there. Saying that it is firm and that they could market it as a specialty service if anyone wants to use it. As they go on and on, I begin to wonder if they are serious and are saying this just to scare me because I’ve never done anything…there.

“Not much brains on her through. I mean, look how she wears her panties,” The farmer then says to which the woman laughs. They then discuss meeting up for lunch as if this is a normal business interaction.

“Hey, John, you like the new animal? Don’t just stand there, turn around so he can see,” the head farmer says and open palm slaps my ass, making me yelp again. Again the urge to cum flares at this horrible treatment. It’s so strong that as I turn I try to press my thighs together for just a tiny bit of release.

A much older man who was sweeping the pavement is walking over. This man has to be at least 65, maybe even 75 as he’s shrunken and wears one of those janitor work overall one-piece outfits. The old creepy bastard looks my naked body up and down repeatedly.

“B-Blanca?” the old janitor asks. At the sound of my name I truly look at him. Oh dear me. That’s John. I had him fired over what, 5 months ago? He was hired to help clean up the stables, but he was so damn slow and old.

“Oh, you know her? How serendipitous,” the head farmer laughs. He puts his arm around John as if they are best friends and the pair two look at me. The head farmer looks like he’s having the time of his life now.

“She…she got me fired from my last job…before I came here,” the old man says in that old man quivering tone. I’m still horribly shocked that he’s here. That he’s seeing me like this. That this old, ugly and unimportant man is seeing everything on me…and with my panties on my head.

“What a bitch. Well John, how about we give you a bonus for being a great employee? Go ahead and touch wherever you want to on the bitch,” the farmer says, again acting as if they are best friends.

“Like Hell you wi-” I start but the guard behind me clears his throat. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a weapon being pulled out from his belt. This instantly makes me stop.

“Go ahead John, I insist. You do a great job here so you should get a reward,” the head farmer says and the old man jumps at the chance. He moves forward so he’s standing directly in front of me. Never before have I wanted to back away from anyone like I want to now. He’s just so…old and gross.

“I’m not going to repeat myself cow. You know how to properly stand for inspection,” the head farmer warns. At this, I feel the hardened stone face express I have been wearing break to which I almost sob. And then…for this old creepy man, I stand up straight and look him in the eyes. My legs part and I stick my boobs out for him, my lips in a frown.

His hands move forward, going for one place and one place only; my pussy. In reaction I have to close my eyes as he cups my special place. His hand holds my pussy, and there’s no hiding that I’m wet. This old creepy fuck knows what I didn’t want anyone to know.

His old fingers now trace my lips as he moves them upward until he finds my clit. He places two fingers on it, presses down and attempts to rub.

I try to go to a happy place, but he rubs my clit in a very unique way. He keeps rubbing, only pausing to rub a finger up and over my slit, but never pokes inside for some reason. He just keeps rubbing my clit in that special way.

Then it happens. I cum. And I can’t even hide it. My body is too hot and worked up to do anything about it. My mouth drops open and I moan like a whore as this old man rubs my clit. I cum and cum hard. Feeling tears fall at the humiliation, I rock my hips as he rubs, leaning into the orgasm.

Moan after moan comes out, as I feel my own juices slowly move down my leg. My eyes are still closed as I can’t dare look at him as he violates me like this. I can’t look at him and know that an old man made me cum. That the old creepy bastard I got fired got to do this to me.

“Damn John, you turned the bitch out with just two fingers!” The head farmer exclaims in the darkness. My chest heaves as wave after wave of dark pleasure moves over me, rippling along. As my chest heaves, I keep rocking my hips, pressing harder against his fingers as they keep rubbing.

Finally I stop cumming. The waves stop and I’m left to stand there, feeling like a puddle of goo. I open my eyes to see the old man looking at my pussy, having a look that seems to show how proud he is of himself. At this, I do start to cry as the old man keeps rubbing my clit, to which I admit feels good. Tear after tear falls as I feel myself start to break down as I’ve been so horribly humiliated.

“Tell you what John, once your shift is over, go to Barn F…for a surprise,” the farmer tells John and pats him on the back again. The old man lights up at this and finally removes his fingers from my clit. A fresh wave of tears fall at this, as it can only mean he’s going to allow this old man to fuck me.

I cry as I stand there, my own tears falling off my cheeks and onto my chest. I keep crying and barely notice that the Head Farmer has started to walk off, implying that this brief moment of violation is over.

Now saying anything, I begin to walk in those short steps, feeling my tits jiggle, which seems to show off how hard my nipples are now. I was just sexually assaulted by an old man. He touched where he never should have. The fucking janitor made me cum. And instead of slapping him or pushing him away, I kept my hands behind my head the entire time.

We keep walking and the farmer ignores my cries. He acts as if everything is normal going so far as to start telling me the purpose of each building like this is a tour. He points out where the building where the real cows are milked, the building where they sleep, the building where their milk is bottled and others. And of-course we walk past more people. Many just give me a glance, but a few stop and stare. One even drops what he was holding.

He allows two more to “inspect” me. By the time of the second inspection, at least 20 minutes had past since I came and I stopped crying. Only thankfully, neither touches me. They just looked me over with large smiles on their faces. Both very clearly had bulges in their pants.

We reach a sort of crossroads now. There’s the paved path we are on, then another that is going to the sides. The farmer doesn’t say anything to this, but I can tell things are different on this side. The buildings are different and there are not as many people walking around here.

“Here’s the good part,” the farmer comments, as we approach something of a mega stable that is built on top of the paved path. It stands on top like a carport sort of building but it is huge. Much bigger than anyone’s house I’ve ever been in.

“You sick bastard,” I tell him as I see this place is filled with small singular stables against the wall…all filled with women. In each small stall is an adult woman, naked. Each one is bent over and secured to some sort of metal rig so they can’t move. A few are in a different position, where they are standing with their hands secured overhead to which it looks like they are hanging.

But all have milk pumps attached to their large breasts, and each one has a spaced out expression. I look away from this as it’s too much to take it. Especially as all of their breasts are huge. And especially as I can hear many of them moaning in pleasure as if they are enjoying being milked.

“This one might have been a colleague of yours,” the farmer notes and points at one of the stalls My eyes widen and that feeling of disbelief returns as I see who he is pointing to. In shock of it, I walk up to the stall.

“No, no, no! That can’t be!” I protest. The feeling that this is a dream runs over me yet again as I can’t believe the face I’m seeing. It just can’t be. Not her. She would never fall into this trap.

“Cindy?!!!!” I call at the woman bent over in the stall. Cindy was a very young , well-educated black woman that had just finished getting her master’s degree when I first met her. We worked at the same farm together, where I tended to the horses and she was hired on to increase efficiency.

She was going to reshape the way the world looked at farms. At night we would share a bottle of wine and she would tell me all of her plans for when she got a farm of her own. They were such good ideas too, such as making it a completely female-run or using only solar power.

I hadn’t seen her in at least a year. Now I think about it, she was the one that told me about Cow’s Milk Inc. She knew they were up to no good, and that she was going to do something about it. When I never heard from her again, I thought she just moved to another state because surely if anyone could take this place down…it would be her.

Cindy doesn’t respond even after I call her name again. Instead she stays nearly motionless bent over as her naked body is confined in that horrible rig so she can’t move. Only her eyes are non-stop rolling up as if feeling continuous overwhelming pleasure.

But her boobs…what did they do to them? Cindy had much larger breasts than I did, maybe a D cup. But now? Now they are overly huge, to the point it’s comical. I mean, they have to be GGG or something. And they dangle under her as the pumps keep pumping away.

“That’s Bessy. She’s one of our best milking cows,” the head farmer reveals. As if to make a point he pats her on the top of her head. The old Cindy would have bitten him, but this Cindy doesn’t react. No, that’s wrong. She moans…at his touch.

“You see, when new women arrive, not all are ready to produce milk,” the farmer begins to explain as I gape at the strong woman I once knew. I do catch that he must be saying this towards me.

“And the time it takes for the female body to start to produce milk takes months, which is time we most often do not have. Cause of this, some of our doctors and chemists got together and were able to make what you might call, a stimulant, which tricks the female form into getting ready to produce milk within a couple of weeks,” he explains, his tone sounding very proud.

I don’t say anything or even acknowledge him. I just keep looking at Cindy, thinking she will snap out of it. Maybe the two of us could break out of here if she did. But she just keeps moaning a pleasurable moan ever few moments. My hopes keep getting dashed as I realize that even if she saw me, she wouldn’t know who I am naked like this, my face partly covered with my own damn panties.

“That stimulant was a game changer for us, as it is completely safe and doesn’t harm the body at all. As the months have gone on, they’ve made some incredible updates to the stimulant too. Updates I never could have foreseen. Like increasing breasts size, thus increasing production like you see with her,” he tells me so damn proud. To make a further point, he playfully slaps her boob, making it swing.

“You’re a monster,” is the only thing I say, only it’s very soft as I feel so downtrodden. Looking at Cindy, I tell myself that I won’t become that. That I’m getting out of here, no matter what it takes. But even as I say it, I still feel the tears on my face as I climaxed from an old man molesting me in front of everyone.

“Monster? No. Bessie hardly ever leaves this stall because she doesn’t want to. It’s her choice,” he tells me. To this I want to tell him “Bullshit” but I keep my mouth closed.

“You see, as you probably well know, the act of pumping milk can be rather uncomfortable for the subject, leaving the nipples sore and raw. Our current formula modifies pain receptors as you can see with Bessie here. So instead of sore nipples and discomfort…she feels pleasure. And you should see her reaction during breeding sessions,” he reveals.

“You’re lying,” I say at once, thinking that there’s no way this could be true. That’s far too advanced. I mean, that’s SciFi level. But he laughs at my comment. And I know why he laughs too, because we both know it’s not a lie. I can see on her face that she’s in a great amount of pleasure.

“We are very humane towards our stock. After all, we don’t have a product if anything happens to them. Girls like Bessie that refuse to leave the pumping station are still properly cared for. She is always fed and bathed and for several hours a day she is disconnected if she wants it or not so she can rest. Like I said, this is her choice. At any time she wants to be disconnected she can be, not that it has happened,” he informs me, as if this makes him a saint for treating them so good.

“You are just keeping her drugged up and docile,” I fire back as I can’t believe someone so strong has been reduced to this. The farmer doesn’t reply to this. In fact, he looks like he’s considering something.

He then leans over the lower wall of Cindy’s stall. I was for sure he was going to do some painful physical blow but instead he grabs the suction cups from her breasts and removes them. It’s clear he has experience at this because they instantly come off instead of pulling or tugging on the nipple.

“N-N-NO!” Cindy suddenly cries out as she seems to wake up. Now she seems to come back to life as she wiggles in her locked rig to which she can’t move.

“Put them back! Put them back now,” Cindy demands. The farmer looks at me with a very smug look. I don’t look at him as I look at Cindy, not believing what she’s become.

“C-Cindy!” I say, desperate to get her attention. “It’s me! Blanca!” I say trying and get her to look at me. But she doesn’t even turn to look at me. Her focus is on the farmer and she pleads with him.

“I will put them back but first…tell the new cow what you are and what you want,” the farmer tells her in a fatherly tone, as if getting his wayward daughter to speak correctly.

“I’m a fuck-cow named Bessie, made to pump out milk, be fucked and make babies. And I want the pumps back on my fat udders,” Cindy says looking directly at me without even skipping a beat. The way she says this is as if she’s said it many times before.

“Shake your udders and I will,” the farmer orders, showing his cruelty again. Again, without missing a beat she makes her breasts jiggle then swing in circles as she moves the little bit that she can in the rig. She does it with so much energy, really trying to please him by being a good girl.

My mouth drops open as I see Cindy is truly gone. If she does know who I am, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about what might have happened to me. All she wants is to feel that sexual pleasure. This place broke the toughest female I know…so what chance do I have?

The farmer places both pumps back on to which she moans loudly. After a few moments her eyes begin to roll back again and her body bucks, showing that she truly does love the feeling. Her moans become high pitched as she must be climaxing in front of us, just like I did.

I keep looking at her, that helpless humiliating feeling returning full force, making me have to try and push down another orgasm. Never before have I been so scared as I don’t want that to happen to me, yet some part of me wants desperately to feel what that must feel like. She’s basically in a state of sexual bliss. That isn’t too bad, is it?

Having proved his point the farmer starts to walk away again. I take one last look at Cindy, then begin to take my small steps to follow behind him, the clanking of the chains echoing some. I walk past stall after stall, each with a woman strapped inside. Overall there has to be at least 3 dozen of them.

“As you heard Bessy say, if you are asked what you are, you are to say you are a “fuck-cow,” and that you are here to produce milk and to be used for breeding,” the farmer informs me as we walk. As he says this, I picture him doing this to some poor victim, only the girl he proves his point with…is me.

We walk out of the stables and further down the path. As we walk in silence, there is one question I desperately want answered; where did all the women come from? I want to say that all have been kidnaped but I know that can’t be. This many people can’t go missing. That then makes me wonder a scary thought…did some of them sign up for this life?

We walk towards another large building. It looks much like a barn, just a bit larger. And unlike the other buildings, this one has a small road that intersects it. To the left and right are very similar looking buildings.

“This is where our newest cows are housed to be trained and broken,” he tells me pointing at the building we are heading towards. Then he points to the building to the left.

“That is the breeding center,” he says and then points to the right building. “That is a care facility. If there’s an injury or someone needs service, we tend to them with a full doctoral staff,” he explains again acting like this is a normal tour.

He keeps walking and I follow, where we walk to the building he said is for the new recruits. We walk through the very large open doors to find a very odd scene. It’s a cross between a farm stable and a porn dungeon. There are stalls which are much larger than the ones Cindy was kept in, but littered on the walls are tons of various BDSM related items, from cuffs to whips to dildos. Inside each stalls sits the same rig that the other girls were connected too, but it also has ropes hanging from the ceiling as well as metal cuffs on the ground.

“Now, what you are going to do is go into your new home here…” the head farmer says, pointing at a corner stall with hay on the ground. I look at it and frown again as I get another flash of that lack of control that arouses me so darkly.

“You will put your feet into the cuffs at the base and then bend over. Someone will be along shortly to educate you into your new life,” he states, looking at his cell again. He taps away furiously, caring more about that then the fact he is ruining my life.

“Now, I have a meeting I need to get to. So go, before I have to punish you,” he warns without looking at me as he looks at his cell. The way he says is as if he wants me to run to it.

Gulping I turn to face the stall and finally let my arms down. With all that has happened, I didn’t notice just how painfully sore they were from having to hold them up for so long. Thankfully I am in great shape, but I know they will be sore tomorrow.

I tell myself this is the perfect time to make a run for it. The guard left at some point so it’s just the farmer and I. And if I surprise him, I’m sure I could take him out. But then what? Hide somewhere? I mean, there’s no getting past the guards’ booth. I guess I could run along the fence and hope there’s a secret way out or something.

Oh who am I kidding? If I did run, I would just make it harder for myself because they would “punish” me. There’s no hope. The best thing I can do is…what I’m told. And as I think that, fresh tears start because thinking that one thought makes between my legs tingle like it never has before. Some messed up and dark part of me is loving this. Loving being a slave.

Giving up, I start walking towards the small gate of the stall. Trying to have some dignity, I open the gate and walk in, feeling my bare feet on the hay. I try to act a normal person and not a naked woman with her panties on her head.

“Oh, take off the chains. They were never locked. Cowards like you never think to try and remove them,” the farmer then calls out. Hearing this makes me pause as I close my eyes. More tears come now as he’s right. At no point did I even try to take them off, just like I never tried to escape. But what choice did I?

Trying not to look like the stupid little girl I feel like, I bend over and grab the cuff on my right ankle. Previously when I bent over, I lowered myself by my knees so no one could see my womanhood. But now as there’s no hope, I just bend over like a whore, knowing he can see this lewd pose. The cuff snaps open with just a little pressure making me wonder if it would have come off if I had taken too big of a step. I then remove the other cuff.

Still crying, I step up to the evil looking rig. Scared, I put my right foot into the circle cuff that is opened. I’m forced to spread my legs more than I want to make my left foot reach the left cuff. When I do this, I feel how open and spread I am, how my sex will clearly be helpless and open.

In what is the most demoralizing act ever, I begin to bend over into the rig. There’s metal and wood bars under that will hold my upper body up, but that doesn’t mean much. This is going to be humiliating and uncomfortable. As I bend, I use my hands to guide me down by holding onto the rig. Finally I reach the pipes and planks to hold me up. My breasts go through a large slot as the planks and pipe are spaced an even ways apart. I’m completely bent over now, in something of a L shape if it was on the side.

I lift up after a few quiet moments as I wonder what the farmer is about to do now. That’s when I find that he’s gone. He just left. I don’t know why but that makes me upset. Then it hits me why. I…I think I wanted him to violate me. That for some reason that felt like the natural conclusion.

Stunned, I lower back down into the rig. When I do, I notice there are pipes on either side of my head sticking up. This prevents me from turning my head so I’m forced to look forward.

“Alright cow, stay put and don’t say a fucking word, you got me?” a very country accented person demands. Moving my eyes, I spot two men moving into the stall. Farmhands for sure.

“L-L-L-Look, I’m a farmhand too, on my farm…” I begin, hoping against hope I could persuade one of them to help me. Each grab one of my arms and painfully force it back behind my back, making me cry out. A moment later, I feel some sort of rope-cuffs being slide over my wrists. These rope-cuffs are then tightened, making it so I can’t move my hands from behind my back.

“…I’ll never tell if you help me. And I have money, lots of it,” I keep on, trying to find the magic words to reach them. Now one of them fixes a bar on the rig right over my lower back. It snaps into place and then another bar is put into place, this one over my upper back. I try to stand but find the bars blocks me. There’s no chance of me standing up or moving my arms now.

“Please!” I then yell as they don’t say anything but move about. Now I feel the cuffs on my ankles get locked into place. Then one of them moves in front of me and pulls at the panties on my face so my mouth is fully exposed. Then he grabs my chin/face with his rough hand.

“Fucking told you to be quiet,” he growls and then something metal is placed in my mouth. I protest as he forces it inside, but his hold on my face is extremely tight and painful. It takes him only a few seconds to get the object fully in, which is a ring gag to keep my mouth open.

I cry all over again as I finally feel the trouble I am in. I’m now gagged, naked and helpless in this rig, like all the other girls. But I know the real reason I’m crying. It is in part because I’m scared out of my mind, but because a part of me likes this. I’ve spent so much of my life being the strong and kick ass leader, telling others what to do and showing how tough I am. But as I am now helpless and let’s face it, submissive, I’ve never been so aroused.

My crying is interrupted by the other one grabbing and pulling my hair through the other leg hole in my panties. My hair is grabbed, yanked, pulled up, and then twisted around and around as if being braided. I feel him pull a hair tie down on my hair, right to the base of my scalp. Then another and another and another. In the end, they tie the end of my hair into something of a knot. If I didn’t know any better, I would think they are trying to make my hair like rope.

My crying turns into sobs as water is dumped over me. One of them must have dumped a bucket of water on me, drenching my naked body. Then another bucket is dumped, only this time over my head, now making the panties stick to my face. Sponges come out next as they start to scrub me down. Only this isn’t sexy and teasing washing, but harsh washing as if I was a farm animal. To this I keep crying and crying as I can’t do anything about it.

They finally stop as I hear them throw the sponges into a bucket. But then I start to scream, loud. I scream because I feel something press against the one place nothing should ever press again; my ass. The cold metal object presses against the tight hole as I do all I can to keep it out. I even struggle in the rig, even if it is pointless.

Whatever the object is then is forced inside my ass, despite me trying to prevent it. It’s shoved inside then pushed deeper and deeper. Oddly the moment it goes in, I stop struggling. I’ve never had anything inside of that hole and it feels like I thought it would; violating. It’s a very powerful emotion and I find that I have to stop struggling otherwise I know I’ll cum. So I relax as they violate me. As the object goes in deeper, I begin to groan and moan as that orgasm threatens to burst forth.

My hair is grabbed again and my head yanked back. I feel them doing something to my hair as they pull it. When they finally let go, I try to lower my head back down only to discover what they did…which is attach my hair to what’s in my ass. Groaning, I know they put an anal hook in my ass and tied it to my hair. Testing this, I try to lower my head only to feel the hook move deeper in my ass.

The two guys then move in front to look at me. They wear no smirks or anything like that. They show no pride in what they have done to me. No, they look like farmhands, upset with a moody animal that’s given them grief.

“Oh shit, get the thing,” one of the guys says to the other, having forgotten something. The other guy goes out of my eye sight but then returns…with a full sized mirror. Seeing it, I start to shake my head NO.

“Please…” I beg, but with the gag it comes out as a gargled sound. They position the mirror against the wall so it forces me to look at myself. And as I can’t look away, the only thing I can see is myself, not looking anything like myself. My own eyes meet mine, and I feel my soul crushing as well as an orgasm about to break out as I see my panty-covered head strapped into the rig just like anyone would expect a hucow to look..

“Hello gentlemen,” a woman says as she enters the barn. The two guys turn to look at her and they both greet her back, only they call her “Doc.” As she comes into my eyesight, I notice she is carrying the stereotypical black bag that doctors carry as well as wearing the stereotypical doctor’s lab coat.

“That’s something you don’t see everyday,” she comments after stopping to look at me. I move my eyes to look at her, but for some reason I want to look away. Having people see you like this is so humiliating and weird, especially when it is a female.

I don’t bother trying to say or do anything to get her to help me. As a woman she would know how horrible this is, but isn’t doing anything about it. Plus I know she won’t help as she gets a smirk after moving the panties so both of my eyes can see out.