The Reprogramming Farm Ch 05

MIKEY PULLS OUT OF ME, and a thick splash of cum immediately gushes down my thighs. The plug in my ass throbs, a sullen beat as steady as my heart.

I take comfort in that unrelenting throb. It will keep me sane. It's my new mantra. They can make me take their cocks, swallow their cum, they can even make me orgasm and like the way it makes my body feel, but they cannot change who I am. Not deep down.

I lie on the table, face down, memorizing its scarred surface, while Mikey moves around me, pulling up his pants, buckling his belt, tidying up the miscellaneous items that he's taken out. The ring gag, the bag of anal plugs, the knife, my clothes.

My pussy weeps, but I do not.

No more tears from me.

From here on, I will be strong. I will trick them into thinking I am complacent, that I'm working with them in my own therapy, that they have won, but I will not become what they want, I will not become a whore for Jay and his stupid dick.

Mikey taps me on the small of my back. "You ready for something to eat?"

I stand up, reveling in the pull and throb around the new plug in my ass. My thighs slide wetly against one another. "Is that a euphemism?"

He grins. "No. But if you're hungry for more cock, I can arrange it."

I am. Whorish, licentious, repulsive, I would eagerly lap his cum from his hand if he'd scoop it from my cunt, and if that's what he wants me to be, I'll be it. My new goal, get Mikey to care about me by being funny and surprising and sexy.

I want him to be curious about me. Off balance.

"I'd rather have a hamburger, if that's on the menu."

The grin spreads. "Is that so? You're meat eater?"

I just stare back, unmoving as his gaze roves my body.

"I had you pegged for one of those vegan chicks, skinny as you are."

"I watch what I eat." And I work out. I can run if I need to. I can run ten miles on a Sunday morning. I can run more if my life depends on it. Maybe I will. He doesn't need to know that though.

He pulls a walkie talkie off the wall. "It's Mikey. Come in."

A second later comes the clicking response. "What's up?"

"Get me a couple of hamburgers and a few bottles of water." He raises a brow. "Ketchup?"

"And mustard. Pickles too. And I want iced tea. And a chocolate chip cookie."

He repeats my order, a funny look on his face. "You still don't want to see your husband?"

"He is not my husband. He vowed to love, honor and defend me."

Mikey sucks in a long breath, then says into his walkie. "Get Jay's therapy moved to a side room for a while. I need to show Tara what this place is really about."

I shake my hair behind my shoulders, straighten my back, ignore the throbbing plug in my bowels, and wait.

He stares back at me for along time. I think he doesn't quite know what to do with me. He keeps opening his mouth like he's about to say something, then stopping like he's changed his mind. Good.

Finally he grabs a pair of rain boots from the wall. Way too big for me sadly. Not great running shoes. They'd slip and slide and trip me up if I tried to book it, especially with my hands cuffed. He puts them on the ground in front of me, holds me the elbow to keep me upright as I step into them.

"It's a short walk up to the farmhouse, but I don't want you to step on anything and get a cut."

There's an awkward silence. "Am I supposed to say thank you?"

He laughs. "No. You're supposed to say whatever you want."

"Fuck you?"

"I just did. You've got a nice pussy. You still horny? I can call in one of the guys."

My nipples tingle at the idea. "Pass."

He keeps his grip on my elbow and guides me out of the barn, into that cool gray day. The sky is heavy and the air is wet, somewhere between rain and mist, like beads of moisture are spontaneously bursting from the air. They collect on my skin, gathering my nipples to stiff points, pulling goosebumps all over my skin.

"It's warm inside. You won't be out here long."

"You could always give me clothes."

"Clients here are always naked. Jay's naked too." Something in his tone makes me wonder for the first time what Jay is up too.

I'd imagined him sitting with his feet up in some cozy parlor, some other tied up wife slobbering on his dick, happily waiting to collect me in two weeks time, a new and perfect whore for him to take home.

I glance sharply at Mikey.

His tone stays mild. "What? You thought there's no work for the husbands here?"

I step carefully over a rut in the grassy hillside. It's a steady hill up toward that white and black house. "What's being done to him?"

"What would you like to see done to him?"

"I'd like to see you stick your dick down his throat, make sure he swallows, then have Roy and Duane, fuck him up his ass a few times. Share him around with the crew. Maybe bring in a horse."

A fat robin hops in the rainy grass a few feet to my right, a long pale worm hanging from its beak. I have new sympathy for worms.

"That would appeal to your sense of fairness?"

I'm silent, almost until we get all the way there. "No. But it would make it feel like less of a betrayal. If he knew we were both going to suffer, he brought us both here to be raped. He'd still be an asshole, but at least he didn't expect to have a great time while I was turned out."

"You are learning to enjoy cock. He's learning to appreciate pussy. To accept that just as taking a cock involves a little compromise, physically and emotionally, so does taking pussy."

Mikey's big hand slides along my back, warm in contrast to the cool air. That I don't shrug away from his hand, is a testament to how much I've changed in the last few hours. Don't get me wrong, I don't like it, that hand. But I sense something in Mikey, something that my body responds to. His male speaks to my woman like no one else before him.

I think of Jay, his soft hands, and tidy manners, the way he hesitates before speaking.

I think of Mikey, a serial rapist who masquerades as a therapist.

I think of me, caught here, a helpless work in the beak of the robin, bound.

Fuck them. I may be bent, but I will not be broken. Not by these fuckers.

He opens a door and leads me into a perfectly traditional farmhouse. Wide plank floors, white walls. The décor is simple, leather couches, tawny oriental rugs, mirrors in gold frames, a brick fireplace crackling with a cheery fire.

There are only three men in the room. And at each of their feet is a nude woman. The woman here are not bound like me. Their arms are free, their hair pulled up high on the tops of their heads. And what are they doing?

Take a wild guess.

They're licking balls like holy communion comes in scrotum form.

And the men?

They're leaning back as if in great pain, their swollen cocks thrusting into the air, angry red and leaking. Their faces are contorted, their bodies shifting constantly.

I tilt my head to the side. Not even close to equal.

One of the guys looks my way, his gaze roaming the planes of my body.

The woman do not look at me, they go about their task lavishly, moaning as they do it, laving their tongues up ballsacks the size of grapefruits, ignoring the stiff, weeping cocks jutting above them.

Mikey stirs beside me. "That one, the red-head. She's a CEO. She comes here once a month, spends a weekend of her own volition, naked, kneeling and serving."

I toss my hair. "She's a fool."

He lifts a shoulder. "And that one, the blonde."

I study her, a slim woman, with pale blond hair knotted high on her bobbing head. "She and her husband decided to stay. They work here now."

Why in the world would any woman elect to stay here? "Who is her husband?"

"Duane."

"Why would she stay someplace where her husband rapes women while she licks their husbands balls?"

Mikey shifts. "That's not all she does. She gets a lot of cock while she's here. Her needs are met."

"She's cool with her husband being a rapist?"

He smiles the way people do when they're trying to stay calm. "We don't see this as rape. We see it as corrective therapy."

I turn away so he won't see me roll my eyes.

I stare at the slurping, lapping women. They look happy enough. The red heads thighs are wet. Probably with cum. My mouth waters.

The men, though, they actually do look pretty miserable.

"What's up with the guys?"

He steps forward. "They're undergoing constant stimulation. Delayed gratification to the point of intense pain. Their balls just started overproducing."

I look closer. Before I was distracted by their massive cocks. Now I see that they're strapped to their chairs. Thick leather straps wrap around their thighs, holding them in place, and around their forearms, presumably to keep them from jerking off, or grabbing the woman's mouths and guiding them to their cocks.

"Come on." Mikey walks through the living room, and I follow in his wake, past this strange ensemble. I'm not sure what to make of it. The women are clearly subjecting themselves, but they're torturing the men.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Tara."

"I hope Jay's balls explode."

Mikey doesn't bother responding to that, just holds open a swinging door. I pass through and into a kitchen. Nothing more exciting than that.

A pair of hamburgers and iced teas sit on the table. I glance at Mikey, waiting for a trick, but there isn't one.

He slides into his seat and gestures for me to do the same. I do, peering at the burger, half expecting it to be covered in cum. It's not. The spike of disappointment only firms up my resolve to get the hell out of here.

We eat in silence. It's good.

When it's over, Mikey stares at me, a speculative gleam in his eyes.

"What?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm trying to decide what to do with you?"

"What are the choices?"

He tilts his head to the side. "I can tie you down to a bench and let those three men in there use your holes until they can't get it up again."

"Or?"

"I can stuff a ring gag in your mouth and let them use your mouth only?"

I see where this is going. "Or?"

"I can tie you down and only let them use your cunt."

"Or?"

"I can call in the rest of the men staying here. There are twenty-six male guests in total, plus the five of us who are therapists. I can strap you down and show you the meaning of rape. We can break you. Destroy you so there's nothing left of you but a cum whore, worthless except as a sperm dump."

A chill settles over me. Until now, I haven't seen this side of Mikey. Ruthless and maybe angry. Perhaps I've touched too close to his own insecurities, but there is no sympathy in his gaze. There is only cool calculation.

"Your choice, Tara."

The hamburger churns in my stomach. "Is there any other option?"

"No. And honestly, I'm leaning toward the last one. I think you'd benefit from being skullfucked until you pass out. Wake up with a cock busting down your throat, your inert body being fucked stupid. Know true fear. I could fuck your ass raw without finishing your training. I could hurt you. We could hurt you badly."

I pull my napkin from my lap. "So, I'm supposed to be grateful that so far I've only had gentle rapes?"

He shakes his head. "You're simply supposed to accept this and move on. Let me help you."

I take a deep breath. "Okay, Mikey. Please help me. Please don't hurt me."

His lips stretch grimly. "Take your pick then. Mouth or pussy?"

"Is there an option where I'm not tied down? Where I go to them willingly, where I don't resist?"

"There can be. But those men are pretty keyed up. You saw them. They're likely to be half animal."

I smile at him, lean closer to him. "Can I leave here?"

Mikey drops his hands on the tables surface. Broad palms facing down, long fingers, thick veins running from knuckles to wrist. "No."

"So I'm a prisoner." I wrap my hand around his wrist.

He looks surprised that I'm touching him willingly. "A guest."

"Guests are free to leave."

"Patients are not. Think of this as a psychiatric inpatient hospital."

"This is a fucked-up hospital."

He drums his fingers on the table.

"Can I name a term?" I ask.

"You can request one."

I stand up, my hands in front of me. "I want Jay brought it. I want him to watch, but I don't want him to come."

Mikey raises his brows. "I thought you didn't want to see him."

"I don't. Blindfold me."

He's silent for a long moment. "I'll need to discuss it with his therapist. Give me a moment."

For a split second, I think he means to leave me alone, that I might have a chance to run. But then he rises, takes me by my elbow, and tugs me back toward the room with the grunting men and the slobbering women.

He takes me to a bench, has me straddle it, hooks my cuffs to the front.

The men stare at me with hungry eyes. Cum glistens on the tips of their cocks. The woman lap at their swollen balls. I can't help it. It turns me on. Cum squishes out of me, wetting the leather bench, my nipples getting harder under their gaze.

I smile.

One of them, a big guy with a thick shadow on his jaw groans, long and loud. I stare at his cock and lick my lips imagining the mango-flavored cum filling them full to bursting. The hamburger wasn't nearly satisfying enough.

Despite everything, I do want cum.

Soon.

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