Sheeps

Ruth eventually curled up on the thin, reeking mattress as best she could. The short chain forced her to keep her head near the wall-ring; every time she shifted, the heavy collar tugged at her throat. The straw-stuffed padding was lumpy and damp. Her raw skin stung wherever it touched the rough fabric. Cane welts throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Between her legs the scrubbed, finger-fucked cunt still felt swollen and open.

Sleep refused to come easily. Panic kept rising in waves.

Where is Rike? Why hasn’t she been brought back?

Are they still using her?

What if she never comes back at all?

Her green eyes flicked upward and froze.

Three small black cameras were mounted along the ceiling beams, red lights glowing steadily. One pointed directly into her stall. Another covered the aisle. A third swept the row. They never switched off. Someone, somewhere, was watching her right now — naked, collared, crying quietly into the dirty mattress. The realisation made her stomach twist. She pulled her knees higher, trying to hide her tits and cunt even though it was useless, and finally drifted into a shallow, nightmare-filled doze.

A metal claxon shrieked through the barn at exactly 05:45.

Lights slammed on at full, blinding white. Doors banged open. Trainers and guards strode the length of the stalls, rattling chains and barking the same order over and over:

“Up! Out! Line! Now!”

Ruth jolted awake with a choked cry. Lily was already rising in the next stall, movements smooth and practised, blonde hair falling neatly over her heavy breasts. She gave Ruth a quick, almost motherly look.

“Stay close to me,” she whispered. “First mornings are the worst.”

Collars were unlocked from the wall-rings and re-clipped to short leash-chains. The girls were herded naked into the central aisle — twenty of them, bodies of every shape pressed together: big soft tits, flat stomachs, marked asses, freshly used cunts. Ruth found herself jammed between Lily’s warm, curved hip and another girl’s sharp elbow. The smell of overnight sweat, dried cum and fear filled her nose.

They were marched to a wide industrial shaft at the far end of the barn. A heavy cage-elevator waited, open on all sides, floor made of thick metal grating. The twenty naked women were shoved inside until they could barely move. Breasts flattened against backs, asses pressed into stomachs, thighs forced between other thighs. Ruth’s face was crushed against Lily’s soft cleavage; she clung to the older girl’s waist with both arms like a drowning child.

Lily stroked her hair once, quickly, and murmured against her ear:

“This used to be for the sheep. Years ago, before the Farm became what it is. They still use the same dunking trough.”

The gate clanged shut.

The cage dropped.

Cold, black water exploded up through the grating and swallowed them to the chest in a single violent second. Ruth screamed, the sound bubbling away as the water closed over her head for a terrifying heartbeat. Bodies thrashed around her. Someone’s elbow smashed into her ribs. A stranger’s breast dragged across her face. She locked her arms tighter around Lily and held on with pure animal panic while the cage hung submerged.

One full minute.

The water was freezing and stank of chemical disinfectant. It forced its way into every open hole — mouth, nose, cunt, the still-sore ring of her asshole. When the cage finally lurched upward again, twenty dripping, coughing, wide-eyed girls were left clinging to one another, hair plastered to faces, water streaming from nipples and between parted thighs.

Ruth was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She still had not let go of Lily. The perfectly trained blonde simply held her, one hand stroking the back of Ruth’s wet head, and whispered:

“Breathe. You’re still here. That’s all that matters for now.”

Guards were already barking new orders, herding the soaked group toward the next stage of the morning routine.