The farm

Ruth kept her hands buried in the pockets of her tight jeans jacket. At 1.65 m she was compact, slim, with a perfect round ass that filled out her jeans and firm B-cup tits that bounced lightly with every step. Her shoulder-length brown hair framed a strikingly pretty face and sharp green eyes. Beside her walked Rike — 27, 1.80 m of long, lean, elegant body, curly brown hair tumbling down her back, high firm tits and a tight little ass that moved under her short skirt.

The van rolled up almost silently.

The side door slammed open. Two figures in black surged out. A sweet, chemical-smelling cloth was crushed over Ruth’s mouth and nose. She kicked, clawed, tried to scream, but the arms holding her were iron. The last thing she saw was Rike’s wide eyes as the same cloth covered her face. Then everything went black..

When Ruth came back, the first things she registered were the smell of old straw, dust, rust and cold concrete. Her wrists were tightly bound behind her back with thick rope. Her ankles were tied as well. She lay on the filthy floor of a huge, abandoned cattle barn. Rusty chains and meat hooks hung from the beams above. Rows of empty stalls stretched into the darkness, most of them now fitted with thin mattresses, buckets and heavy rings set into the walls.

Rike lay beside her, still unconscious, long legs splayed, skirt ridden up, curly hair stuck to her face.

Ruth yanked at the ropes. They only bit deeper into her skin.

Footsteps approached.

A woman in tight black leather pants and a low-cut top stepped into the light of a single bare bulb. Two men followed her. The woman’s eyes moved over the two bound girls like she was already pricing them.

“The new ones are awake,” she said flatly. “Number 47 and 48. Take them to intake.”

Ruth spat dust. “What the fuck is this? We want out.”

The woman gave a thin, cold smile. “They all say that at first.”

Rough hands hauled Ruth to her feet. The ankle ropes were cut so she could walk; the wrist ropes stayed. She and the now-awake Rike were shoved deeper into the barn, past stall after stall. Inside some of them, naked women already knelt or lay on mattresses — collared, some staring at the floor, others wearing the same sick panic Ruth felt crawling up her throat. Tits of every size, shaved or trimmed cunts, marked asses, empty eyes.

At the end of the barn a heavy steel door opened into a brightly lit tiled room. Neon lights. Benches. Measuring tapes. Clipboards. Number tags hanging on the wall.

“Strip. Everything,” one of the men ordered.

Ruth stayed frozen. “Fuck you.”

A short, vicious jolt from a stun baton slammed into her side. White-hot pain ripped through her. She gasped.

“Strip,” he repeated, calm.

With shaking hands Ruth pulled off her jacket, then her tight shirt. Her bra came next, freeing her perky B-cup tits, pink nipples already tight from fear and cold. She shoved her jeans and thong down, stepped out of them. Completely naked now — slim waist, smooth stomach, the neat triangle of her cunt, the full curve of her ass. Rike stripped beside her in silence, revealing long toned legs, high round tits with dark nipples, a smooth pussy and that tight, fuckable ass.

The men and the leather-clad woman looked them over slowly, openly, like meat.

Then the door opened again.

A blonde in her mid-thirties walked in, hair pulled back tight, cold blue eyes, black dress clinging to a firm body. Beside her was a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and a thin, hungry smile. The blonde’s gaze locked on Ruth.

“The little green-eyed one,” she said. “She’s ours for the photos.”

No one argued. Rike was pushed to the side and forced to watch.

The blonde stepped right up to Ruth. Without a word she grabbed Ruth’s jaw hard, thumbs digging into her cheeks. “Open your fucking mouth.”

Ruth jerked her head away.

The blonde’s open hand cracked across her face so hard her vision flashed white. Before she could recover, the man behind her fisted her brown hair and yanked her head back cruelly.

“Stay still, slut.”

The blonde pulled a thin, flexible cane from somewhere. It whistled through the air and slammed across the front of Ruth’s thighs. A bright, screaming line of fire. Ruth cried out. A second stroke cut across her stomach. A third landed just under her tits, right on the soft underside. Each blow left an instant raised red welt.

“Keep those pretty green eyes open,” the blonde told the cameraman. “I want the pain on every shot.”

The man twisted Ruth’s bound arms higher until her shoulders burned. At the same time the blonde drove the pointed toe of her heel hard into the soft inner thigh, right next to Ruth’s cunt. Ruth’s knees buckled; the man held her up.

The blonde’s hand clamped onto Ruth’s left tit, fingers sinking deep, pinching and twisting the nipple mercilessly. Ruth screamed. The camera kept clicking — close-ups of her contorted face, the red stripes, the tears starting to spill, the way her tit deformed under the cruel grip.

“Cry for me,” the blonde whispered.

When Ruth clenched her teeth, the man reached around and slapped her bare cunt hard, open-handed, three times in quick succession. The dull, sickening impact made her legs give out completely. Tears flooded her eyes. The blonde smiled and gestured for more photos — her wet face, the hand still mauling her breast, the fresh handprints glowing on her pussy lips.

The cane rose again. Hard, precise strokes across the insides of her thighs, then across both ass cheeks, then back across her tits. Ruth jerked and sobbed, spit running down her chin, thighs shiny with the first helpless slick of arousal mixed with pain. The man kept her arms wrenching high, presenting every inch of her naked body for the next blow.

The blonde seized Ruth’s face in both hands, thumbs pressing under her eyes. “You belong to the farm now. And this was just the welcome.”

One final, vicious stroke of the cane landed square between Ruth’s legs, right across her swollen cunt. Her whole body seized. A broken scream tore out of her throat. The camera clicked one last time.

The blonde released her. Ruth sagged forward, held up only by the ropes and the man’s grip. Her front was a map of burning welts. Her tits throbbed. Her cunt pulsed with a deep, ugly ache and an unwanted wet heat. Tears and spit dripped onto the tiles.

The blonde wiped her hands as if she had touched something dirty. “Good pictures. Get them in her file. Collar and stall.”