Chapter Three

 

He watched as Heller led them through the unnaturally quiet landscape of the farm. The crushed white rock path led around one end of the punishment bloc, the mist, if anything, thickening rather than lifting as they grew closer to the noon hour. The sights he’d just seen were still seared into his mind, images he was sure he’d be haunted with that night in his sleep.

Still, his eye unerringly returned to the alluring, enigmatic girl who walked with them, the incongruous sound of her chains so out of place in the otherwise peaceful, almost pastoral setting. Why was she chained as if some sort of convict? Though the bonds did not preclude her from walking, they did force her to take shorter steps, and both men fell into a pace — unspoken — that matched hers. He got the sense his gaze wasn’t the only one perusing the pretty girl’s form.

Though he tried not to focus on the roundness of her buttocks, the sway of her hips as she strode up the path before him, it was a battle he was doomed to lose. Her bright blonde hair, so light and beautiful, occasionally lifted upon the light breeze, exposing the pallor of her slender, graceful neck where it plunged into the stricture of the confinement of the collar. He wondered what the rings upon the collar were used for, even as he wished he’d someday have a chance to find out.

You’re not here for that, Eldon.

It was an unspoken truism of assignments like his. You didn’t fuck the hookers, and you didn’t do the blow. But you did what you had to do to maintain the cover.

The shorts she wore seemed intended to do one thing, and one thing only: display the girl’s bounteous assets. And display them they did indeed.

In the chill of the morning air, her lush thighs had broken out in gooseflesh, her hands clutching her chains to help keep them out of the way of her shuffling feet, fingers pale against the unforgiving steel. The white top did little to hide her bosom either, and it was apparent she was not wearing any sort of brassiere, the heavy breasts swaying in such a way that he could see their curves even from behind her. His cock began to harden as he watched them move.

He shook his head, silently cursing the fact she had him reacting to her like a hormone-addled teenaged boy. He’d seen more than his share of easy-on-the-eyes hookers and escorts — by no means were they all strung out crack whores — but he’d never had this sort of reaction. What was it about this girl?

What was it about this place?

“Here we are,” Heller intoned, standing aside as Tamara threw back the heavy bolt barring the entrance to a second, even larger structure.

If the sight of the surreal world of the punishment bloc was shocking enough, what he saw behind the heavy double oaken doors swinging open before him was something Eldon could never have imagined.

Unlike the single aisle flanked by stalls that ran the length of the punishment bloc, the arrangement of this building was quite different. In many ways it resembled a sort of open classroom… though whatever learning might have happened here was unlike any school he’d ever heard of.

Except maybe in your dreams.

He shook off that thought, the whispered implication of it something too unsettling to contend with. He had other things he had to do first. Analysis of his own confused, twisted thoughts would have to wait.

The first thing he noticed was the temperature, the closeness of the air. Though not as warm as a sauna, it was borderline tropical in the space. Over the background noise of a steady, low hum, murmurs, soft laughter, and the occasional gasp and sigh, could be clearly heard.

The vast room stretched out before them, the perimeter manned by more of the armed guards such as the one they’d encountered earlier, though these men appeared to be armed with nothing more than bulging muscles and their impassive, unreadable miens, eyes hidden behind mirrored lens sunglasses.

The interior of the building though, the area these guards so obviously oversaw, was nothing but captives and their masters, the scene like something out of the most lurid sexual odyssey.

Though another large section of what appeared to be low-walled stalls or cubicles, this set-up differed from the previous building in almost every way. The stalls were arranged in a square, perhaps twenty per side, all of them facing toward the center of the building. The spaces were designated by gleaming metal pipes and rails, lengths of leather, rough hemp rope, and rubber tubing draped at various points within the stalls.

Dominating that center was a massive piece of elaborate machinery, a large, clear tank, the upper reaches of its glass well-fogged, hinting at the humid warmth within. Filling the lower third of the tank, sloshing gently, was an opaque white liquid.

Then he saw the lengths of clear tubing emerging from the top of the tank, each snaking its way toward one of the facing stalls. There, these tubes entered a second, much smaller apparatus mounted at the corner of each enclosure. Comprising a motor and smaller glass vessel, these assemblies in many ways resembled a diminutive copy of the central machine.

Then he saw what those machines were attached to.

Holy fucking shit.

Most of the stalls were occupied by kneeling, bound — and very naked — women. In each space, often accompanied by one or more men, and always by one white-uniformed attendant, the supplicants waited, on all fours, their pendant breasts, heavy and swollen, hanging below them, the black rubber rims of cups sealed over each nipple. Milk splashed into each tube, the suction of the machines as unrelenting as the silent, watching owners accompanying some of the unfortunate women.

Many of the inmates were gagged, others blindfolded. A few poor souls contended with both. Another, a striking brunette with wild, curly hair was made to gently kiss and suck the fingertips of the hulking man crouched next to her in her stall, all the while her breasts producing the required yield, splashing in little bursts into the tubes below her. His thumb pushed a thick lock of hair from her eyes, and she looked up at him, gratitude and embarrassment warring in her gray, tear-bright gaze.

One of the women had a black hood encompassing her entire head, reducing her to an anonymous body, her red, swollen lips the only visible features of her face. She was only bountiful breasts, and curving hips, and feminine subjugation. A lanky man in a navy blazer and blue jeans leaned against one of the bars of her stall, his hand caressing the smooth rubber encasing her head as he looked upon her, eyes sparkling with pure possessive pleasure as he spoke softly to the bound female.

“I’m sure you have even more questions,” the director murmured, his intense eyes not moving from the lurid display before him. “And you’ll have your answers soon enough. For now, just watch. It helps the let down, this quiet. Nothing but the cups, their masters’ whispered orders, and their shame. It’s a very special thing, in a most special place.”

Eldon’s heart was beating so hard he worried panic was about to set in. He’d seen some fucked-up things in vice, but nothing, nothing like this.

You’ve got to keep it together, you asshole.

“Not something one sees every day, is it?” The director grinned. “I know you want to take a closer look. Please do. We can see to your remaining duties in due time. Unfortunately, I need to go.” He nodded to Tamara. “She will remain with you, though. She can take you to the remaining patients… when you’re ready.”

“Okay, what do I…?”

The thought of being left in this strange place filled him with a perplexing mix of eagerness and dread.

He knew now that this was the mother lode, the career-maker… and with that came the knowledge that he was perhaps in the most danger he’d ever been in before as a cop.

The eagerness though, that was something else. It was more than just the anticipation of making the bust. No, this eagerness, this excitement, was new, alien — and deeply unsettling.

Not now. Get through this first.

The director clasped his upper arm. “I meant what I said back there. For the duration of your stay here, the girl. She’s yours.”

Tamara gazed at the ground once more, a gentle pink coloring her cheeks as she peeked at him through the fringe of her hair.

Then the man was off before Eldon had a chance to respond, two of the guards accompanying Heller outside, the oaken doors closing with a sonorous thump.

It was as though his feet carried him of their own free will as he walked along each side of the great display of forced submission and debasement. Like something out of the darkest, most fevered dream, he took in all that he saw.

Here a woman was being tended to by two males, one, a man with gray-streaked black hair reposed on a chair, the woman’s head laid upon him, his fingers gently combing though her long auburn hair spread like a fan across his lap. Her eyes were closed, but she winced occasionally as the man on his knees behind her, stripped to the waist, his shaved scalp and flexing shoulders shiny with sweat, hands clasped about her waist, slapped his hips rhythmically against her. The sound of flesh on flesh was quite audible above the hum and the murmurs, her round buttocks rippling with each hard thrust of his glistening cock into her dripping sex.

Farther down, another woman had been put on a shameful display, her arms bound high above her against one of the upper bars of her stall, her black silk blindfold tight, cheeks blushing bright, saliva just beginning to gather at the corners of the harsh bit gag shoved deeply into her mouth. Knees widespread, her clean shaven pussy was swollen and wet, the inner thighs slick. Her red nipples bulged around the dark rubber teeth of the clamps, the sensitive flesh squeezed pale under the stricture of the merciless jaws. Suspended from a silver chain strung between the clamps was a sign, embossed with stark lettering:

 

Disobedient at Harvest

 

As if to punctuate the shame of her transgression, the black rubber-fringed cups, still linked to the machine in her stall, were draped over one shoulder, reminding the viewer of the reason for her current predicament.

Other women were bound in elaborate harnesses, nearly suspending them above the cold floor, only their bulging, pale breasts left loose, giving forth their yield, so cruelly drawn from them. Still another was tended by a pair of men. A stocky, olive-skinned male was on one knee at her hip, his pale gray suit coat draped casually over one of the bars, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows as his long, dripping fingers relentlessly plundered the soaking, deep red slot of the kneeling penitent’s sex. The wet sounds his intimate explorations made were loud, and he smiled at her embarrassed whimpers.

The other man, dressed in a dark green polo shirt and deck shorts that showed off his tanned, muscular legs, knelt at her head, reaching down to slowly squeeze both of her breasts at the base, the dark hair of his strong hands contrasting dramatically against the vulnerable paleness of her soft, bulging flesh.

She moaned loudly as he kneaded her again, harder, fresh squirts of milk clouding the inside walls of the clear tubing.

He murmured to her to be quiet, to obey, to be his good girl.

Eldon didn’t know how long he stood there watching the lurid tableau, but the gentle touch at his arm broke the spell.

“Over here, sir. This is the first patient.”

The term ‘patient’ was almost as surreal as the dairy-themed subjugation theater all around him, but he simply went with it, knowing he only had to put one foot in front of the other. Get the job done.

Leading him over to a corner of the large chamber, well away from the main scene, he spotted a man crouched next to another naked woman. She was blessed with particularly wide hips and a soft, rounded ass. She knelt in that same corner, her bare back to the room, her arms too, suspended with chains, secured high enough to extend her arms, but allowing her to rest her bounteous backside on her soft, vulnerable heels, her feet folded neatly underneath her. Though her head was bowed between her arms, her straight, fine hair, the color of midnight, descended to almost the cleft of her bottom. She had been well-spanked, and recently too, the fresh, mottled hand and finger prints a storm across her otherwise alabaster buttocks.

As they approached, the man with her looked up, smiling even as his dark brow curved upward slightly. He had a thick, dark beard, a touch of gray at the chin, his build powerful indeed, even the dark blue dress shirt failing to fully conceal his muscled physique.

He stood, offering a hand. “Hi, I’m Jack Temple. No, uh, Dr. Forster?” He said it to Tamara, but kept his eyes on Eldon as he shook his hand.

“He was unable to attend, so he sent me in his place. I’m Eldon, his assistant. What can I do for you?”

The man’s grin faded slightly. “I was hoping for the doctor, but maybe you can help me too. My brother’s flying in from a business deal in Dubai, and I like to loan out my wife to him anytime he’s in town. He’s had a soft spot for her since we were all kids, and it’s the least I can do for snatching her away from him.”

“You mean… her?” Eldon tipped his head toward the kneeling woman.

“Of course.” The man gave him a quizzical look, as if such a question was ridiculous. “Anyway, here’s my problem. My brother is known to have, uh, proclivities that run to… well, when it comes to sex, he likes it a little rough. How much is safe though? I want him to enjoy himself, and frankly, she’s never more obedient and docile than when she comes back to me from a hard night in his bed. But I don’t want things to go too far either. Other than spanking her ass when she needs it — as you can see — I go relatively easy on her now, as it is.”

Eldon was mystified as to what he meant by ‘now.’

Jesus, this place keeps getting more insane.

Then the man had his wife turn and face them. She was tightly blindfolded, her teeth worrying her lip, her cheeks blazing scarlet as she turned her face up to them.

“Say hello, girl,” the man said, his voice cool. “You know what’s expected. Spread your legs like you’ve been taught.”

Her blush burning brighter, she forced a wan smile. “H-hello. I’m… Jessica.”

Eldon just managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. The woman was quite pregnant, easily into her seventh month, her nipples darkened and thick, her belly very round and heavy. Now it was clear why the man was worried about his wife engaging in the rough stuff.

Eldon tried to roll with the fact this man was okay with — and even appeared to look forward to — the prospect of sharing his pregnant wife, letting her service his own brother sexually.

Lord.

Fortunately, he’d heard enough questions like it while working in Forster’s practice that he felt comfortable telling him what he’d heard the doctor convey on more than one occasion.

“I’m not an OB, so I’ll have to confirm with Dr. Forster. If he doesn’t have your contact information, I’ll need that to… get back to you.”

Eldon looked to Tamara.

“The director has it. I can provide it if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Eldon cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the man, all the while trying to keep his eyes off the dark delta of hair at the apex of Jessica’s lush, spread thighs as she knelt in embarrassed silence. It was especially surreal to speak to her husband with her present, as if her being there didn’t matter in the least when it came to discussing how she was to be used.

Used. Don’t let yourself become this person.

Eldon pressed on. “Sex is perfectly safe, barring any restrictions from her OB — Dr. Forster, I assume?”

The woman’s husband nodded. “He gave her a clean bill of health at her last check-up.”

“Okay, that’s good. Obviously, in her condition, missionary is out and having her on her back at all can be problematic due to compression of nerves and blood vessels. Spanking should be, uh, fine… but anything else is wise to cease at this point — especially anything particularly stimulative of the nipples, as that can sometimes induce early labor.”

“Hmm,” Jack looked down at his wife, scratching his jaw. “She’s destined to join her sisters at the pumps, but not until after our baby is born.” He met Eldon’s gaze then, a glint in the man’s eyes that was pure lustful avarice. “There’s no way she’ll be allowed to end lactation until I’m ready, though — if ever.”

Jessica paled at that pronouncement.

Her strict husband continued. “I brought her down to the harvest sheds to see what awaits her once the time is right. She proved recalcitrant when she saw what they do here, so I bound and blindfolded her, then disciplined her. Forcing her to face the wall and listen in obedient silence to what happens in here is a lesson I don’t expect she’ll forget soon.”

Jack took Eldon’s hand once more, shaking it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Eldon. See you around sometime?”

His half-hearted reply to the man was interrupted by a whisper at Eldon’s ear, Tamara’s warm breath sending a welcome frisson down his spine. “We need to see the other one, sir.”

Parting ways with the Temple couple, Eldon tried to shake off the troubling mixture of shock and fascination sinking its claws deeper into him by the minute.

Taking him to one of the last stalls, Tamara stood aside, revealing another woman, kneeling obediently within its metallic confines. She was raven-haired and voluptuous, her figure perhaps the most shapely yet — save Tamara’s.

You need to bury that shit, right now. That’s the last thing you need.

She was the oldest of the women he’d seen thus far, perhaps in her early forties.Already extremely well-endowed, the woman’s figure was rendered even more dramatic by the waist cincher which squeezed and lifted her generous bosom, proffering the large bare breasts in blatant sexual display. The grip of the black lace waist cincher was so tight, the woman was practically panting.

She knelt at the feet of a man in a charcoal blazer and slate-gray slacks. Standing in silence, looking upon the other women being milked, his dark-eyed gaze suddenly alighted upon them. His fist was clenched tight to the leash affixed to the snug collar about her neck. Her plump mons was entirely shaven, her mound fetchingly prominent, much like the large brown nipples of her breasts. Unlike the others though, she was not subject to yielding to the cups.

She gazed at the floor, blushing to the roots of her hair, flinching a little as one of the women across the room cried out with a sharp gasp, followed by a pleased rumble of male voices.

“This is Mr. Drayton,” Tamara said, giving the man a deferential nod, and a slight smile. He inclined his chin, tugging at the leash. His kneeling companion knelt higher.

“Heller told me we were sans MD today.” He looked Eldon up and down as an angler might a borderline catch, determining whether or not to throw the flopping fish back in. “I suppose he’ll do though, in a pinch.”

The man had a slight English accent, barely detectable. The clipped, aristocratic tone only made Eldon want to knock the man’s teeth down his throat even more.

“My Gia’s been dealing with a mild case of mastitis,” Drayton said. “I was hoping there was a way to clear it up as soon as possible. I want her fully contributing her fair share. My wife is a little… resistant to totally surrendering thus far. There’s no better way to impart the importance of that requirement than what this place demands of girls like her.”

Eldon was unsure how to handle the inquiry. He was out of his depth here, even if he had to do everything to hide that fact.

“I’m afraid Dr. Forster will need to handle—”

“Well, at least examine her, sir.” Drayton scowled at him, tugging on the leash twice more and peering down at the kneeling woman. “Present those tits properly, Gia.”

Oh shit.

The woman had pivoted on her knees to face Eldon, drawing her arms behind her and pulling her shoulders back, throwing her luscious breasts into outrageous prominence. Her blush darkened even more, her gaze not leaving the tips of his shoes.

Forcing himself to crouch down, he dared to tip her chin up until he could see her quite pretty brown eyes, mouthing to her, “It’s okay…” even though inside he knew this was anything but.

Having no real idea what he was looking for, he took her heavy breasts in his hands, gently palpating them to feel for lumps or swollen nodes. The right felt considerably tighter, especially behind the areola.

Feigning clinical coolness as much as he could, Eldon looked up at Drayton. “Was it the right side?”

“It was—she developed it there almost immediately, unfortunately.”

Horrifyingly, as Eldon continued the manual exam, his cock came suddenly to life, but all he could think of was how Tamara’s breasts might feel instead. How he’d clench them tight until she groaned, luxuriating in the vulnerable, smooth flesh, squeezing and kneading them until she cried out for mercy… or for no mercy at all.

Stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you?

He let the woman go and stood, his hands shaking slightly, hoping the jeans he wore helped lessen the obviousness of the bulge growing at his crotch. If anything would give him up as a total bullshit artist, it would be sporting a fucking erection at the mere sight of a few naked boobs.

He was in serious danger here.

“What do you say?” Drayton’s hawkish eyes watched him very intently indeed. “Is there anything to be done?”

“Uh, I know that antibiotics are usually tried first, but I can’t prescribe—”

Drayton waved his free hand dismissively. “I’ll inquire with Dr. Forster on a prescription later. What else then?”

“The infection doesn’t always respond to antibiotics very well, and it can recur. If the mastitis returns, lactation is usually ceased permanently.”

The man winced. “Let’s hope she’s one of the lucky ones then.” He knelt down, grasping one of Gia’s great breasts, shaking it like a dog might a chew toy. “It would be a damned shame not to see beauties like these used to their full potential!”

You need to get out of here. Right now.

Like an answer from Heaven above, Eldon’s radio crackled to life. “Need you back at the residence as soon as you’re able.”

It was Director Heller.

His heart sank, even if it afforded him a chance to gather his composure again—away from the twisted scene in the harvest shed.

Eldon knew it meant something had gone wrong.