The Stock Yard

It had been two days since the lines of slaves had been led into their pens and unchained. Amy had watched as the women were split into groups of their **** types and locked into big pens. They had been marched off the pier, through a staging area for dry goods, and towards the front of the dock compound. Amy had been led into the group of two pens that were apparently for breeders like her. One pen was filled with the voluptuous young women who had been chosen to bear children until their young, fertile cunts were withered and dried. Amy had been locked in a pen with the breeders who were already pregnant. While no one would be able to tell that she was pregnant at first glance, that was not the case for the majority of the other slaves. Some had bellies that were large and swollen, showing the stretch marks of previous breeding sessions across their toros. Others, like her, were only slightly pregnant and could mainly be identified by the slight swell in their womb and their swollen teats, some of which dripped milk already.

Crowds of people milled around the outside of the pens in various states of dress. Some in dirty rags like the sailors that had changed her life three months ago, others in robes like the arabs she remembers being in copies of National Geographic, a few were in suits looking like any other buisnessman in the sane world. A few were women, dressed in finery and displaying their wealth, but the bulk were men. Occasionally, one of the sailors would bring one of the men from outside in to inspect the merchandise, pulling the unfortunate **** aside to be poked and prodded like cattle. Amy watched as a sailor displayed one of the other slightly pregnant slaves to a man in dusty coveralls. The woman had been bent over a small wooden bar placed on one end of the pen, forcing her to support herself by grabbing the iron bars of the pen while she bent over at the waist. Her inspector ran his hands over every curve of her body with a practiced precision that reminded her of the doctor that had welcomed her to this existence. The coveralled man moved to her teats, massaging the nipple of her left breast until it produced a small bead of milk and a slight moan from the object of his inspection. She moaned louder when he pulled her inner labia apart and shoved two fingers into her pregnant pussy. When he withdrew his fingers, it was followed by a long string of her wetness which broke and landed on her inner thigh. More of her wetness began to slide down her thighs as she mewed weakly.

By the time the sun set that day, Amy was one of four women left in the pen for the pregnant slaves. The other five having been bought over the course of the preceding days. Led out by a new leash attached to their collar before being led through the wooden gate that stood opposite of the pens and into the interior of the island.