Alisha is sent to the Farm Pt. 04

Author's Note: For context, please first read 'Alisha is Sent to the Farm' – Parts One, Two and Three. If you want to find out how Alisha was originally blackmailed into submitting to this nightmare world of subjugation, please read 'Annabel and Mr. Nash – Chapter Sixty-Six'.

My heartfelt thanks to Regressednegress and Ashley Darkside for their imaginative contributions to this ongoing story.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

It was her reflection that did it. If she hadn't glanced up at the greenhouse as she had waddled awkwardly past, Alisha may well have managed to continue meandering through the days and weeks ahead, cocooned in the drug-induced bubble of mental confusion and bodily basic needs that had come to embrace her entire world. If she hadn't actually seen what a physically grotesque creature they had turned her into, then perhaps she would have sunk so deeply into this swamp of mindless obedience that she would never have found her way back out.

After a few days of exhausting and agonizing pony training in the paddock, Alisha had eventually been taken to a remote wooden stall on the edge of the field and kept there in isolation without even the company of the other milk cows to comfort her. Her initial sense of relief at finally being left alone had soon begun to transform into a growing anxiety as the minutes and hours had ticked by, and the first night had fallen. Chained to a wooden cross-beam, Alisha had been forced to either kneel or crouch, and she had alternated between the two positions in turn to alleviate the cramping in her weary legs.

But of far greater concern had been the steadily increasing ache in her bloated, milk-laden breasts. Her brain was by now very much in tune with the ebbs and flows of her body, and she instinctively knew that if the pressure in her swollen mammaries was not released soon, she simply would not survive. With her arms attached horizontally to the beam, she was incapable of milking herself, and so as much as it grieved her, she had begun to hanker for the return of her cruel white masters, because they were the only ones who could provide her with the relief she so desperately needed.

Kneeling and then crouching for hour after hour in the cramped wooden stall, Alisha's convoluted mind had at one point plucked a random scene of her former life from its memory banks. Like a ghost, she had floated through the polished marble lobby of her office building, and then past the rows of brightly lit cubicles up on the seventh floor where she worked, recognizing the faces of her colleagues, and she had even watched her former self striding confidently through the office. But it was as if the intelligent, vibrant young African-American career woman she was observing were another person entirely. Straight-backed, chin proudly raised, smartly dressed in a white blouse and navy skirt, with a stack of legal documents under her arm - was this really what she had looked like before? She had, for a while, been overcome by a deep sense of loss accompanied by a sudden need to escape and reclaim her former place, but eventually the image had been eclipsed by the far more urgent throbbing in her distended nipples, and in the morning, when they had come for her, the memory had receded to nothing more than a vague sense of unease.

Physically spent, she had feebly protested as Matthew had hosed her down with ice cold water, his bare hands roaming freely over her naked skin, but when his fingers had found her responsive teats, the blessed relief as he had squeezed off some excess milk had outweighed any sense of indecency. When the giggling white boys had then pried her ass cheeks apart and pressed the mysterious narcotic capsules inside her body, the pain and outrage had rapidly receded as the soothing drugs had taken effect. Much needed sleep had then engulfed her, and when she had opened her eyes she had felt amazingly fresh, flexing her toes in the dirt and listening to the early birds chirping in the trees. Her legs no longer hurt, and her breasts, although still brim full of milk, weren't for once, the focus of her attention.

Although she was terrified of what long-term effect the drugs might be having on her, there was no doubting the feeling of well-being that followed their application. Clearly, Jacob and his associates knew exactly what they were doing, because in just a couple of hours, Alisha had been transformed from being physically shattered to fully energized. Unfortunately this meant that she was almost certainly due for another day of humiliating exercise for her captors' amusement, of course.

But ominously, she sensed that there was something else that they had done to her while she had been out, and although she had no way of seeing what it was, she could feel the cool air around her neck and scalp, and with a sinking heart realized that they had been at her hair again. She suddenly recalled Richard brutally snipping her pony tail off in the paddock the week before, and the heart-wrenching sight of her beloved locks in his hand flashed before her eyes. When she had arrived at the farm, her hair – such a source of pride back in the city – had been straight and shoulder length. She had favored a fringe cut for the past few weeks, and the admiring looks from her male colleagues, as well as the compliments she had received from her friends, told her that once again she had chosen the style well.

Well, that's all gone now, she thought woefully. But what have they left me with?

The absurdity of her sudden panic about her hair was not lost on her, given her permanent state of undress, he grossly inflated breasts, and the enforced hair growth under her arms and around her crotch. But as much as she knew that it was irrelevant in the big picture, she was suddenly quite anxious to discover what further changes they had made to her. Oh, for a little mirror on the back of the rough wooden door she was facing! Back in her city life, she had spent a great deal of her time studying herself vainly in the mirror, but then she'd had good reason to. Perhaps now she was better off not knowing what she looked like.

Feeling pins and needles in her calves, Alisha shifted forward onto her knees, her tender nipples prodding against the door. She flexed her shoulders and turned her head from side to side, and felt the thick leather collar digging into her neck – another permanent reminder of her slave-like status.

Her hair temporarily forgotten, Alisha's mind drifted under the numbing effects of the drugs in her system. This time there were no flashbacks to her city life, just endless loops of the unspeakable indignities she had suffered since her ordeal had begun, and in particular, the leering, laughing faces of the white men that now controlled her wretched existence.

Maybe she had slept in her kneeling position, but she was snapped out of her nightmare when the door was jerked open, sunlight pouring into her stall, and she squinted up the silhouettes of Richard and Matthew. Even though their appearance meant further torment was surely coming her way, Alisha was actually a little relieved to see them again, because anything was surely better than the endless monotony of sitting this tiny wooden stall.

She heard the clinking of a chain as Richard reached inside and freed her arms from the crossbeam, and then with a jerk on her collar she was pulled out into the open air. Still on her knees, Alisha stared submissively at Richard's boots as he grabbed her arms and pulled them roughly up behind her head. She heard a solid click as her wrist cuffs were fastened to the collar, forcing her to keep her hands up behind her neck. Immediately she felt bare skin on the back of her head, and her heart began to pound in trepidation.

Oh, dear God no! They've shaved my head!

"Let's go, Daisy!" Richard said, jerking on her leash. "You've got visitors."

The implications of Richard's words were momentarily lost on Alisha as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she was now bald! But then did it really make any difference now? She was permanently naked in front of them, and they had fucked her repeatedly, she had swallowed their semen, she had wallowed in compost, crawled around in a pig pen, had been milked like a cow, performed like a show pony – was there really anything left to preserve of her dignity?

As she maneuvered herself upright, Alisha resolved to turn herself mentally inward again. To try and become the observer and pretend that this body she was occupying belonged to some other unfortunate slave, that the real Alisha Royce, with her long straightened hair, her well-toned sexy figure, and her beautiful wardrobe, was patiently waiting for her back in the city.

"Down on your haunches, Daisy!" Richard said, giving the leash a tug that made Alisha stumble forward. Still declining to look up at her tormentors, Alisha rose into a squatting position, and after feeling two more jerks on the chain, began to waddle forward behind Richard, her outlandish breasts bouncing in front of her.

"How are you feeling today, Daisy?" she heard Matthew say from behind her. "Nicely refreshed? Ready for another good workout?"

Unlike Richard and Master Jacob, Alisha wasn't totally afraid of Matthew. More than once he had displayed a little affection for her, and if it weren't for these nightmarish circumstances, he would probably have been just another tongue-tied admirer like so many of the other pathetic white boys in the law firm where she worked. But of course because of his undeserved position of power over her on the farm, Matthew didn't have to impress her in order to enjoy her charms – indeed after learning to overcome his initial coyness, Matthew had quickly gotten into the habit of taking advantage of Alisha's naked body far more frequently than his older brother!

Perhaps it was because of this unwanted familiarity that Alisha chose to ignore him, and so they continued around the field in silence, a huge-breasted black girl with her hands locked behind her head, waddling along on a leash between two white farm boys.

Lord, give me the strength to survive this hell! Alisha thought as they approached the milking shed behind the farmhouse. Richard had said there were visitors waiting, and as the moment of their introduction neared, her heart began to race a little faster. It was always the same in situations like these – no matter what she had managed to endure so far, it was always worse when new faces came to witness her misery and degradation.

Because of the effort in trying to maintain her balance, Alisha had been concentrating on the dirt path in front of her, but as they passed the greenhouse the glinting sunlight caught her eye and for the first time in days, she finally got to see what she actually looked like!

The concept of having her head shaved, devastating enough in itself, wasn't even close to the effect the sight of her reflection had on her. She was staring straight into the eyes of an ape-like creature with muscular legs that were bent under a pair of monstrous breasts jutting impudently forward like floating zeppelins, their dark skin stretched and shiny in the morning light. Alisha had been carrying their increasingly burdensome weight for so many days now that although the sight of them was not a complete surprise, it still came as a shock.

But it was her head that immediately cornered her attention, and for a moment she hardly recognized herself. The last time she had gazed upon her reflection back at her apartment, her head had been adorned with thick, black lustrous tresses. As she had suspected, they were history now, but on closer inspection she saw that the boys hadn't completely shaved her scalp – although it would have been kinder if they had. No, they had decided to make her look even more ridiculous by leaving a thin Mohican patch on top, and two more tufts just above each ear! The effect was both clown-like and, for a girl who had always spent so much time and money on her hair, deeply humiliating!

Stunned by the preposterous spectacle she presented, Alisha dug her toes into the earth and pulled back on her leash. Taken unawares, Richard stopped and turned, but after following her gaze, a broad grin spread upon his lips.

"Oh, yes," he sniggered. "We thought a little haircut might be in order before you received your new guests."

He tugged on the leash and Alisha lurched forward with a whimper. "Please, take me back," she whined. "I can't let anybody see me like this!"

"Don't be silly!" Matthew crooned, patting her on her almost-bald pate. "You look adorable – and I think Mr. Price and his assistant will think so too!"

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Well I must say, Martin," Gretchen said with a sarcastic smile. "You really know how to spoil a girl!"

Martin Price sat on the end of the bed and looked out of the window across the fields. They had been taken to the poky little guest cottage by Jacob Johnson's housekeeper who had informed them that dinner would be served in the farmhouse at seven, and after giving Gretchen a perfunctory onceover, had then left them alone together.

He glanced over at the tall, blonde law intern, and said, "I've already explained that this is a business trip, sanctioned by the highest levels of the company. This wasn't my idea at all."

"So you've been constantly reminding me," Gretchen said, folding her arms underneath her small, pert breasts. "And all this secrecy! What could be so important that 'both our futures are in the balance', as you put it?"

Her whimsical tone irritated Martin, although it was understandable that until she saw what was going on at this madhouse of a farm, she wouldn't be able to grasp the seriousness of it all. After witnessing Alisha's utter degradation the previous week, Martin had quietly hoped that he might be spared from any further involvement in this sick enterprise, whatever the hell in fact it was. Unfortunately, Mr. Van Hook had no intention of letting him get out of it that easily, and when he had instructed him to bring Gretchen along too, Martin had got the distinct impression that they were all being watched very closely by the powers that be at Bale, Thomas and Farringdon.

"Trust me, Gretchen," Martin said. "If you want your promising start to your legal career to continue, you will do as you are told, and keep your pretty mouth firmly shut!"

Gretchen blinked at him, and for once words failed the sharp-witted young woman. Martin too, had surprised himself with his uncharacteristically blunt words. He was an educated and civilized man who always treated his staff with the utmost respect. But these were unusual circumstances to say the least, and the simple fact was, he was extremely vexed about this whole situation which seemed to be spiraling way out of control. He still hadn't recovered from witnessing Alisha put on that degrading pony-show performance in the paddock, nor from his unexpected and shamefully aroused reaction to it.

To make matters worse, it didn't help that he found Gretchen extremely attractive, and again, he couldn't help wondering if Van Hook had somehow picked up on this, which may very well be the reason why they were now sharing this stark country bedroom together. It seemed absurd, but he was beginning to feel as though he had been unwittingly selected to participate in some kind of depraved sexual-social experiment!

It couldn't have been coincidence either, that Alisha and Gretchen worked closely together with him at the firm, and Martin had always been only too aware that they competed for his attention. Of course, having these two attractive, intelligent interns vying for his affections had stoked his male ego, but as a professional he had never attempted to take things any further with either of them – no matter how tempting that may have been. Now here he was, alone with Gretchen, while somewhere on this weird farm, Alisha was being held captive and, he could only guess, being subjected to another humiliating ordeal. Before long, the two girls were sure to meet up – just what was Mr. Van Hook expecting to happen then?

*

With a sigh, Martin reluctantly laid his iPad to one side. He had spent the past hour dealing with e-mails and writing up a work-related report, but with nothing else outstanding on his task list, he was forced to return his attention to this world of insanity in which he now found himself trapped. Back in his own workplace, he was governed by rules, precedents and strict conformity, and he reveled in the control and discipline it required of him. Out here on this farm, the atmosphere fizzed with a dark and unstable latent energy, ready at any moment to explode into a frenzy of cruelty and depravity – always based upon the promise of perverted, unhealthy sex. And as much as he hated himself for it, Martin could not deny how much he had felt its powerful allure as soon as he had driven through the front gate.

With this carnal fervor simmering in the back of his mind, he had decided to bury himself in work in order to distract himself from the sleeping form of Gretchen over on the bed. Now, feeling a little guilty, he took the opportunity to gaze at his leisure upon her long, slender legs under tight blue jeans. Her blonde fringe had fallen across her eyes and she was still clutching her Samsung smartphone as she gently breathed through slightly parted lips. Not for the first time on this bizarre farm, Martin felt his penis swelling at the sight of one of his female interns – except when he had witnessed Alisha in bondage, it had triggered an altogether different, and shameful kind of lust!

A few weeks previously, he had taken both Gretchen and Alisha to lunch, officially to discuss a work project, but also – as all three were intuitively aware – as a rather cheeky excuse to explore the personal vibrations that had clearly developed between them. It had been naughty and exciting because not only was it unethical for him to have personal relations with an intern, it was also a violation of company regulations. But because of the close nature of their professional relationship, Martin had found himself in a position where he had a legitimate excuse to literally mix business with pleasure without attracting the attention of his superiors – or so it had seemed.

As he had enjoyed his salad whilst listening to the two bright young law students verbally jousting with each other in an attempt to score brownie points with him, Martin had reveled in the subtle body language, the covert glances from Gretchen, the slight but unmistakable thrust of Alisha's generous bust, each of them attempting to outdo the other under a veil of conviviality and comradeship.

Martin had on occasion caught himself pondering what it might be like to take things further with one, or indeed both of them, but of course he knew that it was never going to happen. Indeed the girls were almost certainly using their sexuality to gain a professional advantage and nothing more – should Martin have been foolhardy enough to suggest anything untoward, he would probably have been facing an embarrassing, if kindly, let down from both of them.

And so they had let it hang there, this whiff of sexual anticipation that had most certainly, for him at least, added spice to his often trying workdays. The concept of intimate involvement with Alisha and Gretchen, either together or individually, would remain just that – an idea and a fantasy, which was a much safer place for it.

But then he had received that fateful summons from David Van Hook, and everything had changed dramatically. Alisha was now a slave, not even being treated as human, and Martin had been coerced into witnessing the poor woman's utter degradation. An unbidden image of her galloping around the paddock, stark naked except for her bridle, headdress and butt-plug tail, forced its way into his mind. He could still clearly see her glistening black skin, her rippling thigh muscles, and most of all, the look of abject shame in her beautiful eyes as she had glanced briefly into his!