“Who are you planning on rutting with tonight?” a hard-muscled, blond-haired man asked Mildred.
“Excuse me?” she replied.
“Tonight,” he said. “Who are you rutting with?”
“I don’t rut,” Mildred said, doing her best to ignore the man.
“But everyone ruts at night. It’s our reward.”
“Well,” Mildred said, continuing to pick peaches and place them in the basket slung around her hips. “I’m not everyone, and I don’t rut. Understand?”
Another young man, this one tow-headed, came up to the base of the tree Mildred was working at and said, “Is she rutting with you tonight, or is she free?”
“I saw her first,” the blonde said.
“But mebbe she wants me instead.”
Mildred stopped what she was doing and watched the two men fight over her. The scene seemed quite unreal, but although she thought it a pathetic display of machismo, she still found the attention quite flattering.
“I saw her first. So if she’s going to rut with anyone tonight, it’ll be me,” the blonde stated, jabbing himself in the chest with an outstretched thumb. “Unless you want to do something about it.”
The blonde stepped away from the tree. He was naked from the waist up, all of his muscles well-defined from days working in the orchards. He had on a pair of short pants that were ragged and torn, revealing equally sculpted thighs and calves.
The dark-haired one was no slouch, either. What he didn’t have in muscle tone, he made up for in mass, outweighing the other by thirty pounds, at least. As a result, they were a good match for each other, and Mildred was curious to see who might walk away the victor.
Everyone else seemed curious, as well, as most of the slaves had stopped picking by now and had become interested in the men’s squabble. It even sounded as if there were bets being placed, with the blonde being the early favorite.
The dark-haired man didn’t make a move for several seconds and, thinking there would be no fight, the blonde waved him off and turned back toward Mildred. That’s when the other took the chance to throw a punch that struck the blonde square on the back of the head at the base of the skull. The fair-haired one’s head snapped forward, and he fell to the ground.
As the dark-haired one carefully stepped over the other to catch Mildred’s attention, the blonde on the ground kicked the other’s feet out from under him and in seconds the two men were rolling around on the ground, punching wildly.
The sec men seemed to be enjoying the contest. Their weapons were lowered and they were cheering on their favorite.
After several minutes the combatants seemed to tire. They were roughed up, with a few scrapes and bruises, but neither of the men was bloody. Finally the dark-haired one slapped his right arm onto the ground three times and the blonde released him. The two men got onto their feet and the dark-haired one walked away to resume his work.
The workers got back to work.
The sec men began exchanging jack.
The blonde walked over toward Mildred, a bit of a proud grin on his face. “So,” he said, “you’ll be rutting with me tonight, then?” It was as much a statement as a question.
Mildred had no intention of having sex with this man, even though it seemed to be the natural way of things on this farm. Still, she had the feeling that simply saying no to the man would probably cause problems. She had to think of something else to tell him, and fast.
“Well, then?”
“I’d like to, honey, but it’s, uh, my time of the month.”
“I don’t mind.”
“But I do,” she said.
There was no anger or disappointment on the man’s face. He simply nodded in acceptance of this fact of life. “Tomorrow, then. Or when you’re first able.”
He was persistent, Mildred thought. “It might take a while,” she said.
“I’ll rut with others in the meantime,” the blonde said. “But when you’re ready, I’ll have you first.”
Mildred couldn’t imagine she’d still be here picking fruit in a few days’ time, but if she promised this man, maybe the word would get around and the others might not be inclined to proposition her. “Sure,” she said. “When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”
The blonde smiled. “My name’s Eric. I’m one of the best rutters on the farm.”
“I’m Mildred,” she said, admiring his physique. “And I bet you are at that.”
Eric left her then, returning to work.
The women working the nearby trees eyed her warily. “Maybe the men won’t be the only ones I’ll have to worry about here,” she muttered under her breath.
“THIS WAY!” The sec man pointed down a long, wide hallway that had several doors and ended at another corridor. When Krysty hesitated, he gave her a hard push from behind that nearly sent her sprawling.
She regained her balance and continued slowly, familiarizing herself with her surroundings so she wouldn’t lose her bearings in what seemed like a maze of doors and hallways. The rough treatment aside, the sec men seemed a little too casual about guarding her, slinging their longblasters over their shoulders instead of keeping them trained on her. Krysty considered spinning, slamming the heel of her hand into the nose of the one behind her and taking his blaster, but she doubted she’d be able to do much after that. Even if she could chill the sec man in front of her before he chilled her, she had no idea where she was in the building, and she’d need an escape route.
“Second door on the left is your room,” the sec man behind her said.
The first sec man opened the door for her, then stepped back to let her enter the room.
There was a bed at the far end, and a large window covered by steel bars overlooked the common area in front of the main building. Closer to the door were two large, comfortable-looking chairs and several pieces of furniture with doors and shelves that could be used for storage.
The sec man who’d been behind her followed her into the room and switched on the lights. Krysty was startled for a moment by the light from the electric bulb, but retained her composure.
“There’s running water, too,” the sec man said.
Running water and a hot bath would be nice, Krysty thought. She was on her way to the bathroom to try the faucets there when she heard the door close behind her.
And the lock snicked into place.
She spun on her heel to find the sec man standing in front of the door, a grin on his face.
“What do you want?” Krysty asked.
“There’s two kinds of breeders on Fox Farm,” he began. “Smarts and stupes.”
“Is that right?”
The sec man nodded. “The stupes put up a fight and wind up in the basement for nine months chained to the wall.”
“They rut with anyone who wants to, sec men especially.” He unslung his longblaster and pointed it at Krysty.
“Sec men like you?” Krysty asked.
“I knew you were a smart one,” the sec man said, replacing the longblaster on his shoulder.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You can suck my cock for a start,” he said. “My friend’s, too.”
“Sure.” Krysty better understood the predark theory now. If she cooperated with the sec man, he’d put himself in a vulnerable position. Already the man had his blaster over his shoulder instead of in his hands and pointed at her head.
“Well, all right.”
She walked to the bed, sat on the edge and beckoned him with a curl of her right index finger. The sec man joined her, undoing his belt, which held a hunting knife and several boxes of ammo, and unbuttoning his pants.
“Let me see it,” Krysty ordered, feigning breathlessness.
Without hesitation the man let his pants fall, allowing his erection to bob and waver in front of her like a flagpole in the wind.
“Do you like it, bitch?”
“Uh-huh,” Krysty answered.
She reached out with her hands, taking hold of his cock with her left hand and hefting his scrotum in her right. “What’s my reward for doing this?” she asked.
“For starters, you won’t get beat as bad as others do.”
“Oh, that sounds fair.”
“You bet.”
And that’s when Krysty simultaneously squeezed and twisted her hands as if she were wringing water from a damp towel.
The sec man let out a yelp, his body snapping straight and unable to move.
Krysty gave him another hard twist, the force of it lifting him onto his toes. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and tears leaked from his eyes. She let go of his scrotum and reached down with her right hand to pull his knife from its sheath. It was a four-inch hunting knife with a serrated edge on one side and a straight-edge on the other. She came up with the knife quickly, slashing it from right to left, slicing off the tip of the sec man’s cock.
He screamed.
She let go, pushed him away with a hard shove and slid the knife under the bed.
He stumbled backward, then reached down between his legs to grab hold of his severed member. He tried to staunch the flow of blood with his hands, but it still flowed freely through his fingers and down the insides of his legs.
“Rad-blasted slut!” the sec man screamed, holding himself with one hand and trying to pull up his pants with the other. He finally let go of his pants and brought around his longblaster.
The door burst open and a second sec man entered the room. “Put it down!” he said.
“But she cut me.”
A third sec man entered the room. Krysty recognized him as the sec chief named Grundwold. “Did she reach into your pants and pull it out for you, too?” the sec chief demanded.
“He was going to hurt me,” Krysty said. “Mebbe even chill me. I was only defending myself.”
The sec chief looked at his two sec men with contempt. “Get out of here, before the baron hears about this.” He pushed the bleeding man in the direction of the door.
“But—”
“Never mind,” Grundwold said. “Or mebbe you want to explain to the baron what just happened here.”
The two sec men left without another word. Once outside the room, the injured one grunted and groaned his way down the hall.
Grundwold stopped in the doorway before he left the room. “You try and relax, mebbe get some sleep. The baron wants you looking your best.”
“That’s kind of him.”
The sec chief nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Krysty fished under the bed for the knife. She wiped off the blood and slipped it into her boot.
Who knew? Mebbe it would come in handy.
RYAN WAS HAVING troubles of his own.
Although he was doing his best to do the job that was required of him and be as inconspicuous as possible while doing it, the addition of a new slave was bound to attract attention.
“Are you spoken for?” asked an older woman with scraggly brown hair. She was obviously several months’ pregnant and wasn’t too concerned about concealing the fact, or she would have felt the need to cover her bloated breasts, which rested on her distended belly like eggs in a frying pan.
“Yes, I am,” Ryan said, taking a bite out of a fresh peach.
“Who?” the woman wanted to know. “You just arrived. How could you—?”
“You can’t rut with him,” a second woman said. She was younger by about ten years, rake thin and without child. “That’s not your choice to make. You’re already heavy.”
“But I want him,” the pregnant one said. “He’s strong and handsome. Maybe even a little mysterious.”
“But if the baron catches you rutting without permission while you’re already heavy, he’ll chain you up until you birth.”
“Who’s going to know? Who’ll tell the baron? You?”
The younger woman just smiled.
“Why, you bitch,” said the older one. She threw her fist forward and caught the other woman flush in the nose. Blood began to drain from one of the younger woman’s nostrils, but that wasn’t stopping the older woman from trying to hit her again.
The young woman dropped to the ground and took the older one’s legs out from under her with a spinning leg trip. The older woman fell on her rear, and her enlarged breasts seemed to bounce and jiggle for the longest time. The younger woman was about to give her a hard kick in the abdomen when another slave came by to break up the fight.
“That’s enough, both of you!” he shouted, giving the smaller woman a stiff kick in the legs.
“Hey,” Ryan called out, jumping down from the tree.
“You stay out of this, One-eye.”
He gave each of the women another kick in the legs, and they finally stopped clawing at each other.
Ryan wasn’t impressed.
He was a big man, well muscled with a body covered with scars, including several around his neck. There were leathery stripes of healed-over flesh down and across his back, likely the result of dozens, maybe even hundreds of lashes inflicted by sec men over the years. He had short-cropped hair and a full beard, and in many ways he reminded Ryan a bit of Major Gregori Zimyanin, which gave Ryan all the more reason to stop the man from beating the two women.
“Your next kick will be your last,” Ryan said calmly, his fists clenched by his side.
The big man ignored Ryan’s comment and pulled the two women apart.
The women were done fighting, but still eyed each other warily.
“Beth,” he said to the older woman, “you know you can’t rut until you’ve birthed the child. If you need to rut, it can be arranged. I could even see to it personally.” He helped her off the ground and sent her on her way.
Then he turned to the other woman. “And I swear, if you had hurt Beth’s offspring in any way, you wouldn’t have been rutting with anybody, not the one-eye, and not anybody for a long, long time.”
“But I wanted him tonight, Andy,” she said, looking up at Ryan with something like fire in her eyes.
“There’ll be plenty of time to rut with the one-eyed dog later,” Andy said. “He’s not going anywhere.”
The young woman still didn’t seem satisfied, but she stomped off without further protest.
When she was gone, Andy turned to face Ryan. “This is my work detail, One-eye. I keep the peace here any way I see fit, including giving breeders a kick when they got it coming.”
“What are the sec men for?”
“To make sure no one tries to escape. As long as our group makes our quotas, they don’t give a shit what goes on between us.”
Ryan stepped forward, halving the distance between them. “Including when one of you gets chilled?”
Without warning, Andy threw a punch at Ryan’s head. He dodged the blow and struck Andy’s head with his left elbow. There was a definite crack of bone on impact, and Andy fell to the ground, dazed and unable to get up.
Ryan broke a branch off a nearby tree and was about to run the jagged edge of it through Andy’s ribs, when a sec man fired a round at Ryan. The bullet zinged past the one-eyed man’s head and slammed into the peach tree behind him, sending splinters in every direction.
“Leave him alone!” a sec man shouted as he walked over to where Ryan stood over the prone Andy. “Get back to work!”
Ryan tossed aside the branch and stepped away from the still groaning Andy.
The sec man helped Andy to his feet, and although the big man didn’t say anything, the look in his eyes told Ryan that it wasn’t over between them.
Only beginning.