I'm a Slave Now?

"You serious?" The Farmer asks, sounding very surprised as the guards lead me up to him. The guards don't say anything, but both nod their head in reply.

"This will be interesting. She'll be only one this year," The Farmer comments as he stands up and folds his newspaper. The accent of the man, the way he is dressed, even the way he moves all scream that he is a real farmer. I don't know if it is an act, or if he's for real, but I have to guess that whatever he is here for, is farm related. Can't say that brings me any comfort.

"Good golly, I can see why with those tits," he comments and then makes a public showing of pointing at my chest, making my face go red again. I look to the side as he points, never having been so humiliated by someone acknowledging the size of my breasts before. Especially as they are out in the open for him to ogle at.

"Alright Slave, here's the deal. I'm gonna call you Bessie from now on," The Farmer informs me and turns to start walking. He motions with his arm for me to follow without even looking at me. This prompts one of the security guards to slap me on my ass to make me start walking. It's a hard smack to, making a humiliating sound. Stumbling, I begin to walk, trying to have some dignity.

Bessie? He's going to call me Bessie? That's weird. I know that name too. Isn't Bessie a name of a cow? Yeah, the ice cream cow. Why in the world would he call me that?

As I follow him towards the first stall, it all clicks in place. Again that tidal wave of cold fear washes over me as I see what is in the stall. I figure out what he means to do to me.

Unable to help it, I begin to back up. I'm out of here. I don't care if I'm naked. I'll run right out of here and on the feeder of the highway if I have to just to get home. I won't let them do that to me.

My back hits the two security guards as they correctly figured I was going to try and back out. They had moved in and bunched together to make sure there was no way to get around them in the smaller space. With no emotions on their face, each one grabs an arm and begins to force me forward.

"One of those, huh? Not sure of what they want?" The Farmer asks as he sees the men dragging me into the stall. The Farmer is already in the stall, setting up the constructed rig that sits in the middle. A stall that has hay on the floor. The rig in the middle is made of steel pipe and wood, and looks very well made and sturdy, much to my horror. It looks like the many different versions I've seen of it.

I curse and call myself stupid for being so honest I was when I signed up for this. I picked so many kinks and things to be done that I forgot what some of the stuff was. Because I know why the farmer is here. Or should I say, I know what his job is. He's about to make me...ME...me, the woman that saved her company 10 million last year by discovering a faulty meter reading...a Hucow.

"No, no, wait, please!" I beg as the two men bring me into the stall and behind the rig. I try to pull back, try to slow them down, but for all the good it does you might ask the sun to send snow instead of heat. They are far too strong for my small frame.

I'm pulled right into the rig, still pulling back and fighting. I'm then bent over as they press on the back of my knees. Using their incredible strength, once I'm bent over, they shove my head and upper body into the rig. Once inside, I hear parts of the rig move and then discover that not only can I not stand up straight any longer, I can't even bend or crouch over any more from this position. I'm locked into this position. So sure are they of this that the guards let go of me completely.

A bar has been lifted from underneath to maybe an inch away from my rib cage below me. When I try to back out of the rig....my breasts get caught on the bar. And they are too large to get over the bar. I even use my hands to move them and try to smoosh them to get out...but I'm stuck. Stuck....bent over in this damn thing. Trapped by my damn breasts.

"Now Bessie, it'll be best for all if you don't fight, ya hear?" The Farmer says while standing in front of me, watching me try to break out of this. I look at him, hate in my eyes. Having to look at him in this bent position is beyond humiliating. I've gotten used to being a manager of well over 100 people. Of having to always look like you know what you are doing in meetings or even when walking in a hallway. I'm so used to this that I've never had to look up to anyone like I am The Farmer. And now, if I like it or not, this farmer is in control at the moment.

"Put yer hands behind yer back," The Farmer tells me and moves behind me out of my sight. I hear the guards move, but knowing there's no way out of this, I do as I am told and put my hands behind my back. A moment later, the rig is tilted in a manner, making it so that my legs are straight and no longer bent at all, so my body is in a bent over "L" shape.

"Nice looking pussy," The Farmer comments and again I feel my face flush as he says this in such a conversational manner. That this is a normal conversation piece. That anyone would say this.

I do whimper as I feel his rough hands pull on my arms and place my forearms parallel to each other. And then he puts what feel like cuffs on my wrists, then my forearms and then near my elbows. My arms are basically cuffed together, to make sure I am unable to use them at all, making me completely helpless. A moment later, the farmer uses his boot to force my right leg to side out. I try to prevent this, try to keep my leg firm but the hay is very loose and slippery so my leg slides right over, where a cuff is placed on my ankle, trapping it in place to the rig. A minute later, my left leg gets the same treatment, even if I do fight.

"No, this can't be happening," I say again, thinking that not only am I naked, but I'm bent over, hands tied, tits dangling, and now my legs spread wide open, allowing anyone to do, well, anything back there. This can't be my life!

"Alright Bessie, now, please "Moo" for me," The Farmer requests as he moves to the side and grabs a bowl that is filled with water. To this I scoff. I might be helpless, but like hell I will moo for him or anyone. I will not go along with this like some whore.

The Farmer leans over, and then proceeds to put my left breast in the bowl of water. And then my right. You would think this is so sort of sex thing, like he wants to make sure my breast are clean or something, but this isn't the reason. The reason why he is doing this makes my fear level rise as what is about to happen isn't going to be fun. It's going to hurt...a lot. He's lubricating my nipples. You see, he's about to put pumps on my breasts, just like a cow has to get milk.

"Moo, Bessie. Or do I need to remind you what happens to cows that are unruly?" The Farmer says looking at me sternly. The words "Fuck you" come to mind to say, but I don't say them as I don't think it is a good idea. Especially when he just threatened me. I'm not sure what he of any of these people are capable of, so I think it's not too smart to fully test them.

When I don't say anything, The Farmer grabs what looks like a smaller version of a cop's baton from a shelf. He messes with it for a moment, and shows it to me. He then touches the tip against the shelf and I very clearly hear the sound of electricity sparking. He does this again to make sure I understand what it is. He repeats this a few times to make sure there's no doubt of what it is.

"Motherfucker," I say under my breath as he means to use a damn cattle prod on me if I don't do as he wants. Again, I'm not sure why I didn't see this coming. I mean, I looked into hucows a great deal. Well, to be honest, I was, for a brief time, fascinated by the subgenre of women being kidnapped or otherwise forced into being hucows. I should know what all to expect, from the rig, to the breast pumps to the moo'ing. Yet, all this seems to want to be hidden in my mind. Maybe because I don't want to think about what is about to happen to me.

"Moooo," I say out loud, knowing it is in part sarcastic. I get a wicked slap on my bare ass at this by one of the security guards, which makes me cry out in pain as I feel the handprint staying there. He really hit hard, I mean, swung back and smacked as hard as he could as my entire body jerks.

"You are a hucow Bessie. You better start acting like one," The Farmer warns, grabbing the cattle prod again and moving it towards me. Panic rushes over me, both at the thought of being spanked like that and cattle prod'ed.

"MMMMOOOOooooooooooooooooo," I say in my best impression of a cow, my face turning very red as shame and humiliation flood into me. When I do this, the guards laugh a brief chuckle as if it is very comical to them, showing a brief moment of emotion. But The Farmer smiles brightly. He happily exclaims what a good job I did and that I'm a good little cow.

"Keep on Moo'ing Bessie," he tells me gleefully as he grabs the breast pumps that are connected to a machine. And so I moo again in that realistic manner, doing my best at it in fear of what will happen if I don't. After I finish, I'm told to keep on moo'ing, and to not stop. So I do as the bastard wants, moo'ing one after another, my voice probably carrying all over.

As I do this, he turns on the pumps and I hear the machine whirl to life. A moment later, I hear the suction sound, the very powerful suction sound that is meant for my sensitive nipples. It makes me think of a hurricane type wind the way it sounds so angry.

It's now that I see there's movement in the corner of my eye. Turning to look, I spot a small group of people entering and watching. Only, they are not dressed like most of the other's I've seen in standard professional clothes. No. Everyone in this small group is dressed very classy. The men wear black tuxedos and the women black cocktail dresses. It seems to imply that they are rather well to do types.

My reaction is to move, or hide, or scream, but I can't do any of that. I have to stay like this and let them watch my humiliation. This is doubled when I figure that it was my moo'ing that brought them in. They probably wondered what in the hell was going on, and now they get to see a grown woman locked up like a cow.

"Did I say stop?" The Farmer asks me seriously as I stopped moo'ing as the group entered. And so, with the group watching me like this, I moo again. I moo that realistic type moo, humiliating myself as my face flushes again, like a brat being spanked in front of their best friend. I moo again as I feel him grab my left boob. He holds it hard and firm in his rough hand, then pulls on it, as if milking an udder. He openly gropes my dangling breast, making no effort to hide that this is what he is doing. He even runs his fingers over my nipples several times to produce a reaction.

And then he does it. The pump is put on my left nipple, where it instantly creates a seal. My tender, hard nipple is then sucked with all the power of his pump, making it feel as if someone has grabbed my nipple and pulled as hard as they could. I gasp at this, never feeling anything like it at all. It hurts. It hurts bad. But there's something about it. Something good. Something...exciting.

And then the sucking stops. It pauses for just a moment, then starts again, making me gasp again. Now the machine begins the process of milking my tit as if I had milk. Sucking, then pause, only to restart, putting my nipple through torture.

"Hey Max, checking out the livestock this year?" The Farmer asks someone in the group as he moves to my other side with the other pump in hand. This is the invitation the group needed to move slowly over, walking until they are on the outside of my stall, getting a much better look at me.

"Yes sir. Heard there was a hucow after all and wanted to check her out. You know, to see if she's worth bidding on," a 70ish year old man who is apparently named Max tells The Farmer, revealing they know each other. Max, like the others in his group, don't take their eyes off of me, but follow The Farmer as he brings the pump to my other boob.

The Farmer puts the pump on my right nipple, right as I moo again, making me yelp out in pain, to which the group laughs. They laugh at my reaction. They laugh at my humiliation. They laugh at the pain of having my breasts pumped.

"Big shortage this year, ain't there? This one is unruly, but dunno. Something special about her me thinks," The Farmer says as he approaches the small group as they look at me. I look to the side as they discuss me, not wanting them to see me like this. But no matter where I look, I still see them in the corner of my eyes. So I just sigh and look forward, just like a cow.

"Nearly forgot!" The Farmer exclaims suddenly, much like someone that left the oven on and left the house. He moves to a box that is on the shelf and pulls a prepackaged item out of it. Then I spot what he pulls out; a small realistic dildo still in the packaging. It looks like the real thing, but is purple and maybe 3 or 4 inches long. Oddly enough, it has straps on either side of it.

The Farmer takes it out of the packaging and then inspects it. I almost laugh at this, as seeing a farmer type inspecting a dildo is one of the most odd things I've ever seen. He comes over to me with it, then grabs my hair. Being very rough, he yanks my head up by the hair, making me cry out in pain. When I do, he shoves the dildo in my mouth.

I bite down on it at the invading thing at once, only to find that I can't close my mouth all the way any longer. The dildo is in my mouth. Deep in my mouth. Deep to where I can taste the plastic type taste on it. Deep where my tongue feels the realistic bumps and ridges on the thing as if it was a real cock.

Flushing again, I feel beyond humiliated as he pulls the straps around my head to lock the dildo in place so I can't push it out of my mouth. This isn't just a dildo, it's a damn gag. I feel sub-human. Like I'm really a cow. That I'm a dumb cow for all these people to look at and laugh. To gag on a fake cock that's in my mouth as my breasts are milked while I'm bent over, showing my goods.

"Yeah, normally all these stalls would be full," The Farmer goes back to telling Max and the crowd. "Hell, normally they would be filled double. But not this year. That damn virus. For that reason alone I figure she's going to sell pretty good," he tells them after motioning at me. Now he produces a tablet much like the lady at the desk's.

"If you care to know, she is Slave 031...but, what the...." The Farmer says while reading the tablet. When he trails off, the group look at him, very curious.

"That's interesting. I only have her for 15 more minutes," The Farmer says as he reads, revealing his own confusion and checking his watch.

"I get paid all the same, but says here after this she's booked with Department A. Ouch," The Farmer says, recognizing whatever is Department A. He does a twinge, as if he wouldn't be caught in department A because of the pain, whatever department A is.

"In fact, she has a very busy night. I think she's going to hit at least half of all departments," The Farmer reveals as he keeps reading. This causes much conversation with the group. They talk in low voices, but I keep hearing the same words, "Slave 031." It then hits me that these fuckers must be buyers. That their kink is bidding and owning sex slaves, which would be volunteers like me.

"Well Ladies and Gents, I do apologize, but I do need to ask you to leave. Since I only have a brief time with her, I need to quickly do all the required steps. And this next part, well, it needs some privacy," The Farmer informs the group apologetically.

The small group does seem a bit disappointed, as if they love seeing me like this, but they say they understand and leave. The Farmer sees them out, having a few more words with his friend Max as he leads them out. When he comes back, he pulls down a tarp that acts like a door, covering the hallway entrance so no one can come in.

I begin to talk into my gag as I want to know what the hell is going on. I try to move, try to break free, but I can't. I'm secured in this position. And worse of all, I had been trying to deny it, trying to lie to myself, but damn it, I'm aroused. Being helpless like this, it's a feeling that I both hate and love. And I mean LOVE. I'm about to cum just from it. All of this, as horrible as it is, hits some dark, primal lust in me. Even the fake cock in my mouth adds to it.

As I am honest with myself about it, I realize something. I'm a hucow. I'm an honest to goodness hucow now.

"You might have wondered why the guards are still here, even though you can't do anything," The Farmer says, moving to the tablet to read something more. I follow him with my eyes, looking at him with daggers as I do wonder what is next. I admit a part of me is enjoying this, but I want to be freed. I want my dignity back.

"You see Bessie, I normally would do this next part, but seeing a hucow like you, a fiery young thing, I know it can't be me. You need an exception. Because this part, it's not just physical, but emotional, spiritual even. You're a hucow. You need to not just know that, but feel it. That you are here to have those fat udders of yours milked....and...to breed," he says, making eye contact with me at the last part.

"Hucows a bull to breed, and not just any bull. A young, strapping bull. But then I see that you are a fiery one. One that isn't going to be tamed. That's why I figured you don't need a bull....you need TWO bulls," he informs me. Once he says that, I hear pants behind undone, behind me.

I protest at once as I figure what this means. I yell into the dildo, rock the rig even shake my head around, but nothing really is heard. I have a fake cock gagging me and I'm strapped in like an animal. And what would I say if I wasn't? I'm bent over and helpless with my tits being milked. If there isn't a more submissive position or time, I don't know what is.

I look at The Farmer, looking at him to help. Wanting him to do something. To stop this. To stop them before they do anything. I plead with my eyes as I hear more sounds of clothes being removed behind me. Two strangers can't fuck me like this. I can't be made into that big of a whore.

Then I feel it. One of them presses his manhood against my open and inviting womanhood. He slides it in fast, letting it go all the way inside me. The word pleasure cannot describe what I feel. The feeling moves over me, making my eyes flicker and roll as a deep guttural groan comes out of me. A dark tingle goes over my body, bringing warm waves that move over me. But there is such a darkness in it. A darkness that is filled with power.

The guard...this stranger starts to fuck me. He offers no compliments nor says what a special girl I am like all of the partners I've ever had. He just rams his cock inside my womanhood and bangs away. This isn't sex. This isn't a young guppy that I found in a bar that we decided to spend the evening together and then cuddle. No. He's fucking me. Straight up fucking me. I'm just a pussy for him. Nothing more.

Each thrust I moan louder as it only gets better. I feel that my moans go all over the convention, even if I am gagged. I begin to hate myself for it, but I can't deny just how wonderful it is. It doesn't take long before my moans become high pitched as I cum. But it's an orgasm like never before. My orgasms normally come fast, having a quick build and a lingering fade. That's not what this is. It's strong and slow. Like sitting in a bathtub as warm water fills it as a much faster than normal speed.

Suddenly the man shudders and he pulls out of me, leaving a gaping as he cums. I nearly scream for him to put it back in as I want more. That I need more. That I can't be left like this. Left wanting it harder, faster, dirtier. It then strikes me that this is what being in heat must feel like. It only serves to make me more aroused as I really am made into a hucow now.