The Reprogramming Farm Ch. 12

THE HARNESS makes walking hard. Well, I shouldn't say hard. It makes walking awkward. There's a flat piece that goes under the dildo lodged in my pussy, holding the massive thing in place, then connects to straps that go under the crease of my butt cheeks, over to the sides of my thighs are additional buckles that connect to the belt around my waist. It's quite a contraption. But it keeps the dildo from slipping out, and leaves my butthole open to the elements.

Just as we get to the exit, Mikey stops, staring at the desk where he bent me over my first day here.

"Hold up." He ambles over to it, takes one of the bags with butt plugs off the wall, and pulls out the big one he showed me. The one I said would never fit. He tilts his head at the desk. "Bend over, Tara."

I suck in a long slow breath. Old Tara would have resisted. She'd have protested or cajoled or tried to bargain it down to a smaller, more manageable size. That's not the Tara Mikey's likely to trust or let his guard down for, nor the Tara who loves the melty-hot look in his eyes, a look that dares and promises and soothes and scandalizes all at ones. It's a caress in look form.

There are two sides to my soul now, the one that still wants to get out of here, shrieks moral outrage at what has been done to me, and the other part just wants more mangocandy flavored cum, that wants exactly the life Mikey described, a life on my knees, taking cock as deep as I can. Both of them think submitting makes sense. Submitting is what my body wants. Submitting is the best way to convince Mikey I'm as deeply committed to this as I can possibly be. Besides, I've already taken Mikey in my ass multiple times. And the troll. The plug can't possibly be any worse.

So shaking my hands to summon the courage, I walk to the desk, lean over until my face touches the smooth wood surface, and pull my asscheeks apart.

"Such a good girl." He spends some time kneading my ass, slapping it, admiring it as it shook, telling me how perfect it is, how pretty I look bent over like that, how nice my ass looks with just a little white dot of his cum leaking it out. Then, he presses the plug in. It doesn't feel as good as his cock does. It isn't as hard. Nor as warm. And it's broader at the tip, more bulbous, but it glides in smooth enough, sliding on a river of his cum. I grunt when it bottoms out, narrowing at the base and my sphincter locks in place around it.

"Stand up now."

I do, turning to face him.

He stares at me for a long time, meeting my gaze in a way I'm not sure he's done yet. "What do you like to do?"

"Other than swallow cum?"

He nods.

I blink, think about my old life with Jay. I cleaned, cooked, had lunch with wives of his friends sometimes, shopped. Before Jay, I'd been an actuary at a small company. It had been boring. So boring. "Running," I say. "I like to run outside in the woods, on trails, you know. And reading. I read a lot. And when I was in highschool, I was pretty good at drawing, but I haven't drawn in years."

His pale eyes search my face. "Running and drawing. What did you draw?"

I shrug. "People mostly. Faces. I was okay. And you?" I ask. "When you aren't reprogramming women into sex slaves, what do you do?"

"Other than fucking you?"

It's my turn to nod.

A look crosses his face, like regret maybe, or nostalgia. It's the way people look when they're looking into their past and aren't quite sure what to make of it. "I used to raise cattle. I like riding horses. I like being outside, under the sky. Fishing. Hunting. Camping."

I can picture that. Fuck, Mikey's such a damn man's man he can probably scoop a fish right out of a river, bash it on a rock and eat raw.

This is the first conversation we've had that wasn't about sex. It feels weird, and for some reason my throat feels tight.

His hand slides around my hip, and he pulls me against his chest, his nose touching my temple. A hug.

For a moment, I'm stiff, unsure what to do. We've touched a million different ways, me and Mikey, but this is different.

This is just...warm. He's not bumping his dick against me. He's not trying to manipulate me, he just wants to hug me.

He kisses my cheek softly, his bristled jaw scraping against my skin, and then his hand slides into mine.

"Let's go."

I try not to let him see as I wipe a tear from my cheek, picking my way carefully up the hill.

Breakfast today is the same as the other day. A big buffet spread out on one side of the dining hall, a row of tables with benches. I make a plate with Mikey, look at the bench when he steps over it, and slides down. The bench is hard, and I've got sixteen combined inches in my ass and pussy.

He raises a brow. "Take a seat, baby girl."

I suck in another breath. Gear up. Sit down gingerly, shifting experimentally. The plugs wedge deeper, filling me so full it's hard to imagine eating. Hard to imagine thinking about anything but the massive things inside me.

He toys with my hair, pushes it over my shoulders, so my breasts are clearly visible, nipples hard. He pinches one gently, and I let out a long breath. "Go ahead and eat."

I try, eat a couple bites of sausage. Strawberries. A few bites of wheat bread with butter.

"What's the harness for?" asks Duane, sitting down opposite us, a cup of coffee cradled in his big palms.

Mikey shrugs.

"Ain't a usual part of your process."

Mikey cuts a sausage in half, brings a big bite to his mouth, chews it slowly, like he's got time to burn. "She's not a usual type of girl."

I set down my fork, annoyed by the whole conversation and slide to my knees. I don't like how his eyes roam over my body like I'm some kind of puzzle he wants to solve.

Mikey backs up the bench for me, spreading his thighs and making room for me, as I slide down his zipper, tug his jeans down, and nuzzle my face in against his balls.

My eyes drift shut. If I were a cat, I'd purr. His balls are just so warm.

The pressure is greater in my pussy in this position, but less in my ass. I find my hips moving slightly, like I'm fucking myself.

"So if I was to tell you I'm gonna fuck that girl right now, what would you say?"

"I'd say its open season on her ass and mouth, but her pussy is closed for business at the moment."

"Why's that?"

Mikey's hand comes down to pat my head absently. "What's the questioning all about?"

"Boss called earlier. She's going to be here soon. Ain't gonna be happy with this. We fix marriages, not break them."

Mikey's grip tightens, like a flash, then relaxes. "I'll handle the boss."

"Oh, will you?" They're silent for a while. There's some kind of innuendo there that I can't unpack.

"Go on then, send her over to me."

Mikey goes still, and for a minute, I think he's refuse. Then he pulls his balls away from my tongue. "Go on then Tara. Over to Duane and ask him where he wants you. I look up, meet his icy eyes, let him see the trust in mine, rise to my feet, circle around the table slowly and stop in front of Duane. He studies me, palms my tits, bounces them, tells me to bend over, then does the same with my ass, swatting it and slapping it. I cross my arms in front of me on the table, rest my face on my forearms.

Mikey's right there in front of me.

I smile.

He smiles back.

I open my mouth. I like it best when my mouth is full.

He shakes his head.

Duane yanks the plug out of my ass so hard, I yelp in surprise, but he holds me down with a hard hand at the small of my back.

"What if I get noisy?" I say.

Mikey grins, that beautiful grin of his. "You get noisy, I'll get someone else to fill that hungry mouth. I'm save up a special load, just for you."

Duane presses the head of his cock against my ass. It's not like the plug, but it isn't like Mikey's perfect cock either. His is curved, and it's not round, it's more shaped like an oval. It feels good, touches me in a different way, and it's warm and silky smooth as he sinks in deep.

I could get loud. I look around the room, see the troll, he's got his cock buried in the redheads pussy, pounding away. Maybe if he were free, I would shout hollering.

I don't really want to suck any one else's cock right now. So I just stare at Mikey, bite my lip and smile for him, while I take his friend in my ass.

But this time he doesn't smile back. And he's not looking at me so much as at Duane.

Duane fucks me hard. Brutally hard. So hard my teeth chatter and it doesn't feel good. It hurts. I try to stay quiet, but I can't. The grunts come out because I'm taking a beating. Mikey's pissed. I can see it on his face. Duane is making a point right now, and I think he's hoping Mikey will intervene, step in, stop him. But he doesn't. Instead, he reaches across the table, extends two of his fingers my way, and I greedily open my mouth wide, let him slide them down my tongue, and moan like the whore I am. Mikey's whore.

Duane's not really fucking me. He's just using my body to fuck Mikey, dare him into intervening.There's no option for me to come here. It's too uncomfortable. Too rough. Maybe if someone rubbed my clit, they could force and orgasm, but that's not what this is about. This isn't for me.

It goes on and on, ramming inside me, but all things must end, and eventually he comes like a geyser, filling my bowels full of thick, hot cum, spurt after spurt. Then he pulls out, no nonsense, and rams the plug back inside me. "Clean me off."

I pout my lower lip at Mikey, but he only nods. So I sink to my knees, and lap at Duane's cock dutifully. It tastes like cum. Mikey's and his. Not bad. I get into it. Put on a big show, moaning and rubbing my face against his balls, because whatever's going on between them, I'm team Mikey. Fuck Duane.

Finally, Duane laughs. "Holy fuck." It's a concession. He may as well have said, I get it, man.

I preen, shaking my tits, tossing my hair over my shoulders. I'm so special.

"Come on back now, Mikey says. I go, expecting to drop to my knees, but I don't. Instead he pulls me down on his lap, pulls my head back to rest against his shoulder, and finishes eating his breakfast. "You did good, baby girl."

I narrow my eyes at Duane and smirk. "I know".

Mikey has just finished his second cup of coffee, when the door opens on a gust of cold air, and a woman walks in.

Unlike the rest of the women in the room, she isn't naked. Everyone goes silent as she struts across the floor, her heels going tap tap tap tap. She's tall. Rail thin in a way I will never be. I'm petite, slim because I eat as little as I can and I run as much as I can, but she's willowy, tall.

Mikey's shoulders freeze under me and his grip on my hip tightens, but he doesn't turn to look at her, keeps his gaze on Duane across the table from him.

I stare at her over his shoulder.

Everyone watches. Red-smeared lips purse as she peels leather gloves off, pulling by the tips of the fingers, and laying them flat, one over the other. Just so. I imagine this is a woman who does nothing by chance. Her gaze rakes across the room, the smirk intensifying as she takes in kneeling women still lapping at ballsacks, and the men, all of them staring at her. Except Mikey.

Her head cocks as she sees me, sitting on his lap. Not on my knees. She slaps the gloves against her bare hands three times, taking me in. Whatever she sees, she isn't impressed. "Don't stop the party on my behalf. I'm just here for the coffee."

She laughs like that's the soul of wit, and men all around the room laugh too. She's beautiful enough she can say anything and it will pass as clever. She looks like the type who'd never get on her knees, not in a million years, like the type who'd make these men with their bloated balls crouch on their knees, lap at her cunt. Ice cold.

Her lips form a grim flat smile, and her hips sway as she walked straight for me and Mikey.

Casually, he lifts his legs over the bench, one after another, pivoting with me on his lap. His grip doesn't flinch.

"Should I move?" I whisper against his ear.

"No."

The woman stops right in front of us. The tips of her patent leather boots only a few inches from the tips of Mikey's scuffed brown ones. Mikey looks up at her, and so do I. I don't know what else to do. And I know, I just know with whatever woman's intuition I possess, that these two have fucked. She knows his body and he knows hers. His dick has been inside her. She's tasted him. And he's tasted her.

The thought makes me angry.

So, I go with my gut. The new me, when in doubt, does the opposite of what anyone expects me to do. So I plastic a great big shit-eating grin on my face. "Hi!" I say, all chipper. "I'm Tara. Who are you?"

I swear Mikey's hand on my hip gets a little warmer.

She expels air with a little noise that sounds like she's going to be sick, slaps those gloves against her palms, and I swear she's imagining they're a belt and her palm is my ass. "I'm Celene. This is my establishment. Welcome, Tara. Are you enjoying your stay?"

"You know? That's a tough question," I say. "I think I've had more orgasms in the last few days than I've had in my whole entire life before, and I've got to say, I'm getting to know things about me I'd never have imagined. But, I'm not sure I like being called 'cunt' and honestly, I'd prefer I had some choice in the matter of who I fuck and how I fuck them."

She does that laugh thing. Ha ha ha. A mirthless sound, and I get the impression she's practiced it in the mirror, that she knows her neck and jaw look especially sharp when she does it. "Who's been calling you cunt? Not my Mikey, surely."

My Mikey. My stomach twists. His fingers tighten on my hip.

"No, he's called me cunt a few times, but mostly that feels almost like a term of endearment. He says it the way other men say honey or baby. It's some of the others who say it like they're only here because they hate women."

She mimics a wince, lowers herself to sit on a bench across from us, crossing her long shapely stockinged legs in front of her, and setting down her purse beside her. "That's good feedback. I hope no one thinks this place is about hating women." She scans the room. "Surely not any of the therapists?"

"No," I say. Though I have my doubts about Duane.

The gingerhead from the other day, the one who'd promised to hurt me rolled his eyes.

"This place is about freeing women to be whoever they want to be. Whether that is a domme or a sub or some layer in between. Most people." Celene looks around, like a kind shepherd tending her flock, meeting eyes wherever she looks, and taps the ample cleavage exposed above her little black dress. "Most people go their whole lives without ever wondering if they could test their sexuality, without exploring the power dynamic. Most couples have sex in only one or two positions. Is it any wonder that marriages suffer?" Her gaze turns to Mikey, hard and brittle as glass. "Our marriage was a disaster. Two dominant parties made for some incredible sex and some incredible fights." She smiles. "We both bled."

Did she just say that? My jaw drops and I look at Mikey. His face gives away nothing. They were married? This is his ex wife? I didn't even know he had a wife, let alone one who looks like a runway model.

I smile back at her. If I can't actually keep up, at least I can pretend. "In my case, we had two pussies. Mine, and my husband."

A few people around the room laugh. Duane included.

Celene raises a brow. "Go get me a coffee, Duane. Be a doll. Black. No sugar."

Behind us, he shuffles off.

Celene leans back against the table, drapes a long arm along the tables edge, her legs uncross and they rest there, slightly parted. It's a power move. She's spreading out, getting big. That's what Mikey does too. Takes up space. I try to picture her rubbing her face in his balls and I know she never did.

"You speak of your marriage as if it were over, Tara. And yet, I've seen your file. It's still going strong. You have seven, eight days less here at the Farm? Jay is learning to be more dominant. You are learning to be more submissive."

I push away from Mikey, sitting up a little straight on his thigh. "He brought me here against my will. Watched them rape me. I'll never touch him again"

Duane hands her a coffee, and she takes it with a tut. "Rape is such an ugly word. I prefer coercion."

"You can call it whatever you like," I say. "It doesn't change anything. They held me down and put their dicks inside me against my will."

"Did you say no?"

"My mouth was full. I couldn't."

She smiles tightly. "Did you like it?"

"That doesn't change what happened. Jay allowed that. He's no husband to me. If he wanted me to be his cumwhore, he should have been man enough to make me. Not hand me over to..." I look around. The ginger guy has a woman on her knees in front of him, he's tugging at her hair, looking at me, his lip curling. I frown at him. "This."

Celene sips her coffee. "I can sympathize with that. Not all marriages are meant to last. But many do come through here much better. They face jealousy, face betrayal, face a challenge together, overcome it, and it has a way of clearing the air. A month ago, would you have been happier if Jay bent you over, put a plug in your ass, and fucked you silly?"

I think about it. "Probably."

"So what's different now?"

"He didn't. Mikey did."

Her nostrils flare. Her gaze drops to my breasts, to the harness around my waist and thighs. She looks to Mikey. "A pussy ban?"

"She's got a plug in her ass too. Duane just finished up with her."

Icy eyes narrow. "But her ass isn't harnessed off. Why is her pussy not open for use?"

"She prefers the cum in her mouth or ass."

I have an urge to stand up, stomp my feet and insist they stop talking about me like I'm not there, but I don't think that's proper sub protocol. When did I become a sub by the way? Am I even one? I don't feel all that submissive. I just like cum. I could drop to my knees. Mikey's pants are still down. His cock is there, pressing against my thigh, only half hard now. I could drop down and lick his nutsack. It would make me happy, but I get the impression he likes me where I am for now, and I think she'd enjoy seeing me on my knees.

"And since when," she bites out the words like they're offensive. "Do we allow subs to decide which holes are open for use?"

"We don't. But I felt like indulging her."

"Why? I hear she's quite disobedient. Refuses to fuck her own husband."

"She's having a hard time adapting. But she's trying. Working hard. She's been a good girl."

Celene wets her lips with her tongue. "Then she deserves a reward." She raises her voice, calling around the room, "who'd like to fuck Tara next?"

Of all people, it's the ginger guy, of course, who raises a hand. "Me."

My insides shrivel.

If Celene has her way, she'll force Mikey to take off my harness and let the ginger fuck my cunt—she's the boss after all—but ginger stops in front of me, an ugly sneer on his face, and says, "I want to skull fuck her."

I don't move.

"On your knees, Tara," Celene says sweetly. "You do love cum, no?"

I don't move.

"You can thank me later," she says, sweeter than pie.

Mikey pats me on the ass. "Go ahead. I'll be right here with you."

I blow out a long sigh, but get up begrudgingly, and drop to my knees before the ginger. He shows me his teeth, and his massive straining dick, gleaming with the other woman's spit. His heavy balls shake as he shuffles forward, his pants around his ankles. I spare one long look at Mikey. I have so many questions. Why does he work for this awful woman, his ex wife? Why does he do this? What do I feel safe and at home with a man who's about to let me get mouthraped by another man? Why do I trust him? Do I trust him?

Ginger waggles his cock back and forth. Smears it around my face. I roll my eyes at him. He slaps me across the face with it. I wait. Eventually, he gets bored and says, "open your whore mouth."