Daisy in Bloom - Farm Life Pt. 01

This is a recollection of certain lurid events which occurred in the remote 77 Acre Farm owned by Mrs Pedigree. It is a fable for hard folk and lonesome men and, like most campfire stories worth telling, is based on true events.

If you have a complaint, just roast a marshmallow and please wait until its your turn to speak. Lets see...

Before we get into the nitty gritty degeneracy we ought to inspect the Pedigree women. First and foremost was Daisy Pedigree, youngest daughter and a certifiable country girl. God blessed her with an attractive form, strong arms, and thick thighs. She had received a homeschooling education, that is to say, almost no education whatsoever. She was talented at milking cows and repairing roofing, but knew nothing of math or history or sex ed. Ahem.

Then there was Lady Pedigree, her elder sister. They called her 'Lady' but she was anything but. How did such a family of plain farming folk wind up with this rotten troublemaker trapped in the slim, petite body of an especially attractive girl? If her father had been around, she might have turned out alright. At least she had her wits, though the same could not be said for Daisy.

Mrs. Agatha Pedigree was their mother and sole living guardian. She had a body much like Daisy's, only more developed, and wits to match young Lady, which helped keep her in line.

They were impoverished and lonely after a boy named Lyle moved away many years ago, leaving them with just one neighbor (a friendly woman who will not appear in these introductory tales). But they were happy and, most importantly, far removed from the wiles of civilization. The 77 Acre Farm, though small, was situated in a place where no man might stumble across it.

Naturally, one man did.

It happened on a cool spring day when the wind whistled through the evergreens like a low moan and sent droplets of morning dew scattering across rows of crops--carrots mostly, green strands poking from the earth like wiggling tentacles--now ready for the harvest.

Walking among those rows and inspecting the vegetables of their labor was Daisy Pedigree dressed in jean shorts that pinched and rode her ass something fierce and a cutesy pink tanktop which clung for dear life against her full breasts, sometimes slipping and offering her sister Lady an unwanted view.

"Cover up!" said Lady, harshly. "No one wants to see your pink tits flapping in the wind, you cow!"

"Who's no one?" Daisy asked. "It's just you and me and Ma. There's no one t' offend. I could go naked for all you care." And it was true. Not since those happy days with Lyle had a stranger come this far onto their property, let alone upside the house where they now knelt on hands and knees with their rear ends wobbling as they plucked carrot after firm carrot from the earth. Their hands stroking and plying the ground with expert dexterity.

Still, Lady couldn't stand to lose an argument.

"Be that as it may, we're grown women now. We ought to have standards."

"Comfort first is my standard." As if to emphasize this point, Daisy removed her top and wrung it like a towel to drain the sweat. Her bare skin was pale and surprisingly smooth despite a lifetime spent in the great outdoors.

Lady averted her eyes and Daisy just laughed and laughed, her voice sweet and innocent like a child's. Lyle, the only male she had ever known, used to look away too.

Just then as her thoughts were on men (those mysterious creatures!) the evergreen leaves shook and stirred in a way that was not natural. Out from the treeline came something that was not the wind, though the sight of it alone chilled Lady to the bones.

Stranger!

Not just any stranger, a strange man!

He was tall and thin but even from this distance they could see that he was strong, strong like their Pa had been, perhaps, but also totally alien in every regard. He wore weird clothes and walked herky-jerky like a puppet with half its strings cut and just trying to make do. One arm was wrapped around his stomach like he was feeling for something or another.

"Hello!" said he, and the two girls stared prey-like into the treeline and did not move or reply.

"Hello!" he said again, this time louder. His very voice was strange! He did not speak in falsetto as with the boy Lyle, nor was his voice somewhat deep like their broad-hipped mother. His was pure baritone, rich in depth and oddly pleasurable to the ear. When he said 'Hello' it was like he was saying, 'My dears, how I've longed to see you again.'

Daisy's exposed nipples hardened in the cool spring air though she knew not why.

He paused, then shuffled closer.

"Now you stay right there! You hear me?" Lady blustered. She had a lot of fight in her, like a small dog backed into a corner. But its hard to take such threats seriously when they come from a five-foot-five princess.

"Why should I? I have every right to be here," the man countered, voice patient as when dealing with social workers or brats.

"You most certainly do not," Lady drew herself up to her full height. "This here is Pedigree property. Ped-ih-greeh. And you sir are NOT a member of the family. So that makes you a trespasser!"

The man cocked his head and smiled.

"And what happens to trespassers, exactly?"

Lady stammered and bit her tongue.

"Nothing, I suppose. But your argument is moot, little lady. Didn't Agatha speak to you? I'm no trespasser, I'm a house guest!"

Now that elicited some confusion, I can tell you. The man waited patiently while clutching his chest as Lady and Daisy talked it over, though it would be more accurate to say that Lady thought out loud while Daisy said "uh-huh" several times in a row.

In the end they came to an agreement: Lady would run to the farmhouse and speak with Agatha (her dear Ma) to confirm the man's claim, while Daisy Pedigree would watch the stranger and make sure he stayed put.

Lady was quite happy with this arrangement, since the man frightened her. Daisy was perhaps too... unaccustomed... to be afraid.

Watching her sister's bare feet slapping the earth as she ran home, Daisy spoke to the man who had sidled up alongside her, one arm hanging limp like a broken toy.

"Why are you topless?" he finally asked her.

"Because it feels good." That was the honest truth, and Ma had drilled into her time and time again the virtues of being honest.

The man considered this for a time, in silence.

"Don't you feel awkward? Most women would be ashamed."

"It's natural." Daisy looked at his arm. "Are you hurt? Or did you eat something that doesn't agree with you?"

The man lifted his shirt, revealing a bandaid so small it made Daisy burst out laughing. The man laughed too, evidently unbothered.

"It's just a little scrape. It doesn't hurt a bit." He eyed her body, looking her up from the bottom to the top as if appraising a rare statue from another era.

Daisy saw him watching her and didn't know what to say. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. What to do with all this nervous energy?

The man cast a surreptitious glance over towards the direction Lady had run off to. Nothing.

He looked down at her.

"What's wrong mister? Did you--" Daisy had begun to say mere seconds before the man's fingers gripped her bare tit and tugged her nipple, gently yet firmly.

"Why!" was all she could say, then a sharp intake of breath made her mute. That feeling... That touch! It was different than feeling her own hand against her skin when bathing. His hand was foreign. It was good.

Her eyes widened as he grabbed hold of both breasts and cupped them in his wide palms while playing with her mercilessly. He stepped behind her, circling like a predator, and ran figure-eights across her nipples while breathing hot air down her neck and along her spine. She didn't think that he was particularly handsome (he seemed more plain than anything, maybe a bit unattractive even) but feeling those hands on her breasts with his eyes boring directly into the back of her skull drove her wild. Never in her life had she been touched this way. She moaned aloud.

But this bliss lasted only a few seconds longer. Then, her surreal encounter took a turn for the worse.

Without asking her permission or even announcing his next move, he put both hands against her hips and forced her rear against his crotch. Daisy felt something lumpy and hard grind against her ass crack through her jean shorts which were as blue as the sky above. She looked up and felt oddly helpless in his grasp, when she stepped away he pulled her back. When she struggled, he held her tighter. Up above, the white puffy clouds moved lazily across a jean-colored sky.

He did not strip her but he did put a hand down her pants and began fumbling with her pussy with rough, claw-like motions. Daisy had never worn panties of any kind (comfort first!) and immediately felt his digits poking and prodding her insides in the worst way. Most surprisingly, she felt a trail of liquid seeping down her thighs--not urine, as she had expected, but something else. His fingers had done this to her.

"You big breasted bimbo," he hissed through perfectly white teeth. "Where's your dad?"

"My Pa's not around," she gasped through quick breaths. His fingers explored her cunt while his free hand pinched her nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

"We're gonna have a lot of fun together, you got that? Say yes. Say it."

Daisy grit her teeth and blinked back tears. So this was what men were like! No wonder her mother had kept them away from the city.

"Say it, cutie. Say it or I'll make you taste it." His hand left her shorts and tip-tapped against her chin, leaving little wet spots.

She turned away, finally relenting.

"Yes."

"Yes who?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl," the man chuckled. "I'm gonna be your new dad from now on. It's all settled."

With that, he slipped three fingers inside her and began finger-fucking her like never before. Daisy actually gasped, so great was the sensation. She felt something rubbing against her legs; looked down to see her shorts sliding down below her knees.

He pushed her forward, making her walk awkwardly like a penguin as she struggled to move with her jeans tying her ankles together like a pair of handcuffs and his fingers still filling her cunt. Finally they stopped above a row of plants, not carrots waiting for harvest but rather a dense patch of wildflowers.

These flowers were some of Daisy's favorite--a band of swirling orange-and-white petals and others with a bulbous shape colored dark pink. They waved in the air like tiny people competing for her attention and, as the stranger whispered obscenities into her ear and bit her neck and fingered her like mad, droplets of something (precum, she'd later find out) began dripping down atop the wildflowers and coursing down their stems.

"I, I feel, I'm..." Daisy huffed. She was no wordsmith. And this was no time for words.

"Sshhh," the man chided. "Just let it all out."

His hands gripped every part of her body, stroking and caressing and gripping like she were a thing of small value and not a person. He fingered her again and again, using her in broad daylight without a care in the world, without any fear of being caught or endangered.

The strength in her legs faded. She slumped against his body, his weight. And through it all, those bony fingers kept up their terrible assault.

"Help me," she said, though she didn't know why.

As if to answer her, her pulled loose three glistening fingers and forced them in her mouth. They tasted awful.

Plopping them out, the stranger placed them against her exposed clit and rubbed her vigorously. They moved so fast that it appeared as though a dragonfly were beating its wings against her cunt, just a solid blur of white skin traveling back and forth at record speeds.

"Be a good little slut and cum for daddy."

It was too much.

With a loud cry, Daisy came all over the flowers below, watering them with her fluids and feeling hot tears rolling down her blubbering cheeks. Her legs shook like two powerlines in an earthquake. Her hips even buckled once, twice, thrusting involuntarily as she shot out more crystal-clear ejaculate all over the earth like an obscene watering can.

Her energy spent, she sank to her knees the moment he let her go. Daisy wrapped her arms around her chest and sniffled. For the first time in her life, Daisy felt compelled to put her top back on. She eyed it, reached for it, then let it be. What did it matter?

The stranger sat down and wiped his hand on his gray trousers. He seemed to pay her no notice. That was when she saw it--a huge shape bulging from the center of his pants, like a tent erected sideways. It was the same thing that she had felt against her body, when he had first groped her.

"Nice day out, huh?" the man asked.

---

His name was Hulton Brim, as a matter of fact, and he had come from the Northwest. He had played cards and games of dice in that region and somehow won much more than he had lost. By some stroke of luck he had seen fit to invest those winnings into a risky company started up by a few friends and a kooky entrepreneur named Black Bill. Wouldn't you know it, the company had turned a mighty profit--and how! Within five years it had the best stock going, if only for a few days.

In yet another stroke of luck Mr. Brim had actually sold his shares (every last one, to his friends' chagrin) shortly before the company went under. That made Hulton Brim a lucky man thrice over, and to his mind any man who got that lucky three times in a row was a special man indeed, a giant among dwarfs who stood above the common folk while sometimes stooping to engage in their vices. All in all, a mean specimen of Homo Sapiens and a gambler to boot and, as Agatha Pedigree helpfully explained over some afternoon tea, the new honored house guest at the 77 Acre Farm.

This revelation made Daisy gnash her teeth in disbelief, doubly so when Hulton affixed her with a calculating stare and paper-thin smile. Lady seemed unhappy about it too, all things considered, but was wising up to the concept when she saw the stranger's bag which contained, among other things, a few wads of cash.

Money, that's what it always comes down to ladies and gentlemen. Let us not forget as we sit under the stars and tell nasty swallow-or-spit stories that money opens all doors. Indeed Agatha had agreed to let him stay in exchange for rent (a rent which far exceeded the value of a single bed and breakfast, it should be noted). This money could easily maintain their farm, could pay for their food so that they need not live off the land as was the custom even in the long winter.

Her fists balled in rage, Daisy had wanted to say something--had wanted to warn her mother about this man and his vile habits, though she knew not how to explain what had happened to her or why he had done it. But one look at that money had silenced her just as sure as the day is long. Hulton Brim was hear to stay, and Daisy would just have to learn how to live with him.

In truth, living with him was not so bad--at first. At first he kept a distance. The man seemed utterly devoted to the charts and miniature telescopes he had brought with him in a second bag. Some nights he just stayed up and watched the stars. The view from the countryside is unmatched, unpolluted by smog or dust.

He kept away from Lady (perhaps her underdeveloped body did not interest him) and only spoke to Agatha once per day in the early morning when they ate breakfast at the same table and when, Daisy noted with mute horror, he eyed her body openly.

Ma had seen him looking once, hadn't she? Daisy could have sworn she saw! He had been eyeing her pale breasts (still topless, though she had started wearing a bra while indoors) as he ate a plate of bacon and eggs before washing it down with fresh milk. And Ma had glanced over and seen what he'd seen, had traced his eyes with her eyes.

And she had said nothing.

Thoughts cloudy, Daisy sneaked away one day when she should have been collecting unfertilized eggs from the henhouse with her elder sister. Leaving Lady to do the chores was so unlike her that she wondered if she was becoming a different person.

Down by the planter's fields and away from the hills was a narrow ravine where a gravelbed had formed long ago and was now awash with the sidewinding river which cut from their neighbors property into and across the 77 Acres and rode it for some nineteen acres before vanishing off into the distance. Here was a special place with crawdads and swirly flies and little fish that nibbled at your toes when you stood in the deep end with your sleeves rolled up. Here was where she and Lady and Lyle had played as children, innocent and fearless in the way that fools often are. Here was where she had hoped to hide.

She poked at the river and swatted the crawdads with their dull red pincers away. She sat on a low-hanging branch offered by a mighty willow and reclined in the shade, mind and heart racing.

She was naked except for her work boots, her breasts hung lower than when they were supported by her bra. Her thighs glistened in the sunlight as droplets of water dried against her cool pale skin. She ran a finger through her brown locks, curling and uncurling, thinking and unthinking the events of the past few days. To think, she had celebrated her eighteenth birthday just a few weeks back. She had been happy, happy! to start again now that she was a little older. And she had been looking forward to adulthood so badly... How had things gone so wrong?

She plucked a leaf and crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the river. Daisy watched it float away, then threw another. This one was caught against a stick and did not escape.

"This is a good spot, lots of privacy," said an all-too-familiar voice.

Nearly falling out of the tree, she stiffened in fear as Hulton approached. He glided across the leafy undergrowth like a wraith before crossing the river without rolling up his pantlegs or anything.

Dear listener, at times like these it is easy to imagine a fight or a scuffle or perhaps a few choice threats being uttered. But indeed, sometimes life goes on without any fuss.

When Daisy remembered that first day and how strong he had been and how much money he had brought them, all the energy left her body and she lay on the willow branch like laundry drying in the sun. There was nothing to do, nowhere to run to.

Here she would stay, no matter what.

"I should bring my telescope down here later. I was a bit worried because of the water and the humidity, but I bet we can see some great stars. Do you want to see some stars, Daisy?"

Daisy stared back and her face could have taught some tribal masks a thing or too.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot." Hulton stepped closer. "I think we should get along, don't you?" He drew closer. "I'm not your real dad, and I'm not dating Mrs. Pedigree or anything." Even closer. "But I think you and I can still share a special father-daughter relationship, don't you?" Closer still. "What do you say Daisy? Can I comb your hair?"

That last question threw her for a loop. She had nodded and, a few minutes later, found herself sitting on his lap in the middle of the river with a thin comb passing back and forth through her thick head of hair.

"This is nice," he said, almost absentmindedly. Though his crotch was situated directly beneath her naked rump, she didn't feel anything poking her. What had that strange object been, she wondered?

"Did you use to come here a lot? Maybe as a kid?"

"Yes... Me and my friends. We loved playing in the rivers."

"River, singular. Not rivers."

"Right." Daisy closed her eyes. That somehow made her feel better, more in control.

"What did you do for fun?"