Chapter Eleven

 

The Hummer bounced along the now familiar route. The rattle and crackle of gravel thrown up into the undercarriage as the big truck bombed off the highway onto the narrow access road, the dip in the pavement before the tires buzzed over the steel grating at the cattle crossing.

He knew he was in trouble — and probably in more ways than one. Exposure to the farm's depravity was wearing him down, testing his will power, his resistance to temptation. It was a constant danger in vice, as it was, to some extent for anyone entrusted with significant power.

For Eldon, this was more than a moral struggle. This was a battle to determine what he was made of. He knew he was in serious jeopardy of losing sight of what and who he was.

The sights and sounds and smells of his visits to the farm were invading his dreams, and more than once, he’d woken up, horrified at how much he'd been aroused—even in his dreams now—at the twisted use made of the helpless female inmates of the farm.

One thing helped him carry on though, and long ago it had ceased being simply ‘doing the right thing.’ No, this reason was much less noble—and that truth was one that was hard for him to admit.

More than anything, he looked forward to seeing Tamara each time he visited, his sweet memory of their time together sustaining his days, though his fevered dreams of her naked body haunted his nights.

It was the memory of the sweet, yielding, mysterious girl that kept him going back, week in and week out.

The weekday summons to the farm was an unusual one; he’d never been there at another time other than a weekend. The old Eldon — the non shitty cop — would have been instantly suspicious. But he knew it was likely just another wrinkle in Heller’s plan, the director playing everyone like puppet theater, Dr. Forester happily providing the marionette.

When Eldon had met him at the office, Dr. Forester had pressed the white paper bag into his hand, telling him he’d forgotten to leave it for a patient back at the Farm. It was supposed to be folate — which was available in a supplement form at any grocery store. But Dr. Forester insisted this was a much more effective prescription form, that his patient required.

He wasn’t sure he bought the doctor’s story, but it also wasn’t exactly his place to be questioning his boss’ orders either.

Especially not on deep cover.

So, off he’d gone, hopping into Nathan’s waiting truck — and the attendant blindfold — without another word.

“Five minutes.” Nathan intoned from up front, drawing Eldon momentarily from his thoughts.

He didn’t want to think about the pain — and guilt — he’d felt at having to lie — again — to the lieutenant. But this time, he’d done it for a purpose.

At least that was what he was telling himself.

He had resolved to end this, one way or the other. She was the secret to it, even though he had no real idea how he was to end it. He knew one thing for certain though: he would figure out how to get Tamara away from that place.

He would take the girl from the farm, and set her free, let her live life on her terms for perhaps the first time ever. Wouldn’t that — finally — be something the good guys did?

But he hadn't yet figured out how to do it when the summons for a Wednesday visit had popped up on his phone.

The first problem was figuring out how to get her away from the immediate vicinity. Nathan was unlikely to just offer to smuggle away someone who was, essentially, Heller’s property.

Worse, the location of the farm was still a mystery to him. He’d have time to plan though, once his rounds were complete. Given enough searching he was sure they could at least pinpoint the location via GPS and geo-surveying resources; OPD had access to most of the same geographic and location resources the feds did, so that at least wouldn’t ultimately be much of an impediment.

That was assuming the Trust didn’t have somebody on the inside wiping the existence of the farm from those resources too. He knew such a thing wasn’t at all out of the realm of possibility either.

The sound of the truck’s wheels suddenly muted, the ride instantly smooth. They were here.

His heart began to gallop as the Hummer came to a stop, rocking gently. Anticipation filled him, something that was increasingly difficult to reconcile. Eldon knew the biggest danger of all was the one he didn’t want to face.

He was beginning to enjoy visiting the Farm.

* * *

 

Eldon rapped his knuckles on the door. Room 11.

It was a floor of the residence he’d never been on before, the place even more richly decorated than the rest of the building, the walls all polished woodwork, with subtle, tasteful lighting. A luxuriously patterned carpet runner, all reds and blacks and yellows, ran down the center of the dark hardwood corridor, silencing one’s footsteps into mere whispers.

He’d been disappointed not to find Tamara waiting for him as he’d walked up to the main residence from the parking area. He’d never been to the place during the week, and though he had no real idea what to expect, he couldn’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t have been there.

Trying to put it out of his mind, he knocked again, glancing back down the hallway self-consciously.

“Come on in,” a muffled — and male — voice said from inside.

The prescription was for a woman named Jessica Temple. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Yet another sign you’re fucking losing it.

It was true too. A critical skill — perhaps even a lifesaving skill — was remembering names on a deep cover assignment. He used to be good at it. Very good.

But he was slipping.

Her.

She occupied his mind night and day now, the memory of her body wrapped around his as he watched the lurid, callous use of the slaves in the Service Pens, something that he knew he could never forget. He’d lain awake on more than a few nights, succumbing to the hardness of his cock, stroking himself to a groaning, frustrated orgasm, the memory of the feel of her soft breasts tipping him over every single time.

You’re in danger if you keep this up. You know this, Eldon.

He wanted her for himself… even as he knew he could never have what he wanted. Perhaps when he finally did rescue her from this place, this life, he could set it free too, this need for her, this obsession with something he knew would be ever out of reach.

Maybe then the aching emptiness in his heart would fade away, disappearing with the last hope he’d allowed himself to entertain these past many weeks at the Farm. These sweet days with Tamara.

He needed to cut it lose, cauterize that wound. And move on.

Even if moving on meant oblivion.

Opening the door, he stepped into the warm room, the curtains drawn at the huge picture windows letting in the last of the gray afternoon light. Unlike his own quarters at the residence, this one was simply a bedroom, albeit it a very large one — and richly appointed.

Sitting back against the sumptuous burgundy couch along one wall, was a man he recognized, the dark, well-trimmed beard and powerful build one he knew he’d seen before.

In the Milking Bloc.

The distinguished man nursed a glass of red wine. His white dress shirt was open, framing the dark hair of his lean torso. His black slacks were unbuttoned, opened enough to hint at the pubic hair just below. The metallic watchband at his wrist caught the light as he drank. One of the man’s thick eyebrows arched, its jet lines just beginning to frost with gray.

“Nice to see you again!” His voice was low and smooth. “Is that the folate?”

“It is,” Eldon said. “I’m sorry — I was supposed to deliver this to Jessica…. Temple. Is she here?”

“I can take it.” A finger lifted from his wineglass when Eldon didn’t immediately hand over the bag. “Let me guess — you’d like to deliver it to her yourself?”

“If I could.” He wasn’t even sure why, but he did want to check on the girl. He couldn’t forget the sight of her kneeling there in that humid room, heavily pregnant, blindfolded, her gravid condition not saving her from anything. Most especially not her blatantly displayed — and enjoyed — shame. It would be a good idea to get her BP as well; Dr. Forster had asked him to check that too, when given the chance.

The door closed behind him and he glanced over his shoulder.

Tamara was standing before it. She was dressed in a form-hugging dress, diagonal striped colors over black highlighting the broad plane of her hips, accentuating the swell of her breasts.

“Hi,” she mouthed to him, color deepening at her cheeks as she gave him a tiny smile.

Trying to hide the surprise — and the unexpected surge of joy — he smiled back before returning his attention back to Jack Temple.

“If she’s not here, I can come—”

“Nonsense.” Jack angled the stem of his wine glass toward the bed. It was a huge four poster with white translucent curtains shrouding the carved, varnished wood posts and crossbeams.

“Oh,” Eldon murmured as he saw her.

Jessica was sitting upon the padded bolster, facing one of the big windows, her form in profile to them. The woman wore nothing but the most diaphanous sheer gown the color of mist. It did nothing to hide her naked, pregnant body from view. Her rich, gorgeous dark hair was piled atop her head, held in place by several long pins. Her eyes, a striking violet with a deep kohl accenting her lashes peered over at them from her perch.

“Hello, Eldon.” Her smile was tentative, but warm. “You didn’t have to…”

“Oh no, of course I did,” Eldon said, lowering his voice slightly as he walked over to her, hoping not to frighten her. He dropped to one knee, giving her a quick shake of his head when she attempted to stand up.

Tending to her allowed him a moment to calm his nerves — both at the strange scene he’d walked in on, and the fact that Tamara was waiting for him in the room.

It was about to get even stranger though.

As he wrapped the cuff about her arm, he gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he turned it palm up, letting it rest upon her naked thigh in order to get the reading right.

“Looking just fine,” Eldon said, giving her hand a soft pat as he got the numbers he was hoping for. “Dr. Forster will be happy to see this.”

He unwrapped the cuff, the sound of the velcro surprisingly jarring in the room. As he rose, turning back toward the door — and Tamara — the bathroom door to their left opened, a zephyr of air, warm with humidity, washing over them.

A new voice rang out. “All checked out, I trust?”

Eldon spun around, reflexively moving himself between the man, and the still-seated Jessica.

Don’t be an idiot. You’re not protecting anyone here, asshole.

“Will Temple.” The man extended a hand, and Eldon shook it, trying to ignore the fact Will wore nothing but a thick, white towel about his hips. He was a taller, more slender version of his older brother, not yet graying, his longer hair a shade lighter. Where his brother kept a full beard, Will had dark stubble, fashionably unkempt.

“Ah, yes,” Eldon folded the cuff, and slipped it into his bag. “Just dropping off the folate and checking her BP. It’s similar to the reading taken by Dr. Forster at the last appointment. Slightly elevated, but her urine is still normal, so we’re not worried about preeclampsia at this point.”

“Very glad to hear it.” Will looked down pointedly. “Sorry, for the, uh, casual attire. Was about to reacquaint myself with our girl.”

Our girl?

Eldon glanced over at Jack.

The man shrugged his shoulders as he sipped from his glass. “What can I say. He doesn’t waste his time when he visits.”

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Eldon was two steps toward Tamara when he heard the muted slap. He whipped his head around, his mouth going dry.

Will was already drawing Jessica up onto a mounded pile of pillows on the bed.

“Down on your elbows, little girl. Let’s get that ass nice and high.” Will smacked her bottom again, and she yelped. “No, use the pillows around your belly. Yes, just like that.”

Eldon’s cock was almost instantly hard. He wondered where Tamara was, the urge to reach for her overwhelmingly strong.

“You’re welcome to stay and watch,” Jack said from behind him. “Or…?”

He was speechless for a moment as Will dropped his towel, his erection, dusky and veined, bouncing up, jutting toward Jessica’s offered backside. He took hold of her waist, forcing her down a little more.

“No, don’t look back at me, girl. Face forward. You stay nice and quiet, nice and still while I fuck this pussy.” Incredibly, the man looked over toward his brother. “Her belly is fucking gorgeous. I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful. Well done.” Will flashed him a licentious grin, then knelt on the bed behind Jessica. She gasped, blowing out a long, strained breath as Will’s cock disappeared inside her.

“Good… good girl. Squeeze… good.” He began a slow thrusting. “Fuck, her cunt’s like a goddamned furnace!”

“Will likes an audience, though I admit it’s a little embarrassing for my wife.” Jack raised his voice. “I don’t think the slut wants us to know how good my brother’s cock feels. Isn’t that right?”

Jessica whimpered, but nodded against her folded arms as Will’s thrusts grew stronger. “Yes… sir. Oh!”

“N-no thank you… I need to see to a few other… patients.” It was a fucking lie of course, but Eldon needed to get out of there. The appeal of staying and watching was disturbingly seductive.

Eldon met Tamara’s wide-eyed gaze, unsure what exactly he saw there. She still stood at the door, her hands demurely clasped before her thighs, the cleavage of her generous breasts on full display in the dazzlingly low decolletage of her dress.

Good guys, remember? You’re supposed to be one of them.

“Suit yourself, Eldon.” Jack stood, shaking is hand. “You’ll show yourself out then?”

“Of course.”

Jack craned his head around him, looking at Tamara. “Now then, my dear. Come over here. I have use for those pretty painted lips of yours.”

Jack’s erection already jutted out of the vee of his fly as he reached for Tamara.

Eldon reacted on pure instinct. Pure possessive instinct.

Moving between the man and Tamara, he clamped his hand around the back of her neck and gripped her upper arm, hard. “No. She’s coming with me.”

Jack’s eyes glittered as he smiled. “Change your mind about staying to watch? No reason you and I can’t share the girl while we enjoy the show. Will likes to take his time putting Jess through her paces, pregnant or not—”

“No. She’s mine.”

Tamara shuddered, but she reached up and clasped his forearm. But it wasn’t to resist him. Quite the opposite.

Just go with it. Think about it later.

But the insane power, the almost primitive rage he felt at the thought of Jack so much as touching Tamara — his Tamara, as he thought of her now — was shocking. And it was going to be a serious problem.

“Oh… I think I see.” Jack dipped his chin, his voice lowering to a murmur. “Don’t wear her out.” He lifted his wineglass. “Until next time, Eldon.”

He practically frogmarched her out into the corridor to the sound of Will growling at the now moaning Jessica, another slap ringing out just as the door closed once more behind them.

They stood in heated silence in the hallway, alone, his hands still holding her as if she were a recalcitrant child. Then Tamara moved with a feline, deceptive swiftness, cleaving herself to him. Her breath was hot, the woman almost panting as she nuzzled under his chin.

Don’t do this, Eldon!

It was too late for that though, and he hugged her tight, the bag slipping off his shoulder, slamming to the floor with a thud as he crushed her soft, yielding form to his, squeezing her feverishly as he pressed his lips to the silky, fragrant hair at the crown of her head. He lifted her face, her gorgeous sparkling eyes wet with unshed tears.

“What… what’s happening?” she said. It was almost as if she were asking it of herself.

Unable to resist any more, he kissed her, slowly, drowning in her, then, as she pressed tighter to him, their embrace grew savage, her lips tangling with his, her breath and his becoming one. His tongue quested between her soft, wet lips as he drank her deep, the pent-up tension and emotion exploding between them. His cock was an insistent ache, jutting against her belly as she held her body to his.

He shook her as he pulled her away. “No… just… no, Tamara. Not… not yet. I have to go.”

The truth was, he was fleeing. He didn’t even know where he would go. But at that moment, he knew it was his last lifeline. If he stayed another moment, another nanosecond, he risked being lost to her.

And risked losing any last chance at saving her.

Rather than be angry, a smile spread across her face. She touched his cheek as she whispered it. “Go then… you know where I’ll be.”

He watched her walk down the hallway, her round, unbelievable ass rolling and swaying, a promise and a taunt all at once.

Fuck, you’re in so much trouble.