Scenes from The Ranch Pt. 01

All heads turned to watch as Anne-Marie tripped over her own two feet, struggling to catch her balance due to the excess weight of her iron collar, which now sported an additional length of iron bolted to each side. Her arms were stretched wide, each hand bound in a leather cuff that was locked to the end of the iron.

As Anne-Marie spun and stumbled, Anna and everyone else could see that her hair was a mess, she had her mouth wrenched open by a ring gag, and there was a streak of dried cum across her face. Laughter erupted from the assembled stock and grew quickly as Anne-Marie finally lost her battle with gravity and sprawled down onto her back. Anna began to process that she should go help her friend, but the sheer spectacle of things was a lot to take in, and this slowed her reaction.

The other stock, accustomed to sights like this, did not show this hesitation. They quickly moved to form a circle around the fallen Anne Marie, and as she began to struggle to her feet the brunette from under the tree strode up and used her foot to push Anne Marie back down. Smiling at her while the other stock whistled and laughed, the brunette mounted Anne Marie, resting with her knees on either side of Anne Marie's chest, hovering over her face.

Anna looked on with shock and horror and realized she was expecting some kind of speech, or at least an introduction. There was obviously a way of life on the yard and Anne Marie had somehow disrupted it, but as speech was forbidden it had to be worked out in other ways. She saw the brunette smiling at Anne Marie, who squirmed a bit on the ground, alternating between a genuine frustration and fear and a half-assed attempt at a friend-winning smile.

The brunette put her hand on the center of Anne Marie's chest, stopping her squirming. And then she spit, letting it dangle for just a moment, carefully lining it up with Anne Marie's forced open mouth before letting it drop. Anne Marie's eyes shot open and she mewled in surprise and frustration.

The brunette laughed again and then looked around the assembled stock, then pointing at one of the others, a short, curvy individual with raven black hair. Brunette pointed at raven hair, snapped her fingers, pointed at Anne Marie, and then stood up. She stood to the side as raven hair hustled to squat over Anne Marie's face. There was a brief, terrible pause as Anna realized what was happening and once again did not move as a heavy, loud stream of piss landed directly on Anne Marie's face.

Anne Marie screamed and tried to twist away but two of the assembled stock had planted a foot on the bars holding her hands and Anne Marie went nowhere. The piss splashed off her face, soaking her hair, pooling next to her face, and occasionally splashing into her mouth, making Anne Marie cough and choke. After what felt to Anna like many many minutes raven hair wrapped it up, letting the last few drops drip into Anne Marie's mouth. The brunette laughed loudly and walked away, which the rest of the group took as a signal to disperse.

Anna rushed to her friend's side. Making eye contact and desperately wishing she could say something, she helped Anne Marie to sit up and she did her best to wipe the mixture of dirt, sweat and piss off, although mostly she just spread it around. Anne Marie let off a scream of anguish and shoved Anna with her foot, storming off in the opposite direction. Anna watched her go, having fully understood the "why didn't you help me" question buried in the anguished scream. "I don't know," she answered in her head. "I'm sorry."

Most of that day's yard time passed without much more fuss. Anna noticed that the brunette stayed in the shady spot and never had to fetch her own water, and at one point was getting a back massage from another stock. Others worked out, sat together in the sun, or got some walking in to pass the time. Anna kept to herself, leaning against the barn alternating between cursing herself for not helping her friend and telling herself that there wasn't much she could have done.

Various stable hands and ranch personnel passed by the yard as the time rolled on, usually just giving the stock a passing glance but occasionally stopping by the fence, at which point a particular stock usually trotted over to return a greeting, get groped, or sometimes make out. It was late in the yard time when the flat faced stable hand walked by, elbowing a friend in the ribs and pointing at Anne Marie.

"Her?" Anna heard the friend say. The two stable hands approached the fence. Anna could see Anne Marie staring daggers at the stable hand. "Hey, come here!" the friend called, pointing at Anne Marie, who dragged herself up from where she was sitting against the barn and crossed the yard to the fence.

"Aww, they helped you wash your face!" the flat-faced one announced, and they both laughed. "You still got kind of a sour puss on, though."

"I know what'll give you a better look," the friend said, and he vaulted over the fence. Grabbing Anne Marie's collar, he dragged her to her knees. Quickly unbuckling his belt he dropped his pants, pulled his dick out of his briefs and began stroking it, staring down at Anne Marie. Everyone stared as the inevitable unfolded. The stable hand stroked furiously and before long was grunting and coughing as a fresh stream of cum landed across Anne Marie's face.

Laughing, the stable hand vaulted back over the fence and the pair went on their way, neither looking back or remarking on what had happened. Anne Marie fell backwards, landing with a dusty thump and staying there, quietly crying. She stayed like that until yard time was over and we all headed back inside. She looked back out through her window onto the yard and Anne Marie finally got up only when everyone else was for sure inside.

Just before a stable hand brought Anna's dinner, she heard one enter Anne Marie's stable and heard him unlock her hands and disassemble the collar attachments. "Thank you," she heard Anne Marie say in a way that convinced Anna whoever unlocked her wasn't the same person who had treated her so poorly in the first place.

The rest of Anna's night was consumed with thoughts of how she hadn't helped Anna, how she couldn't have helped her, and trying to calm her kind and center herself. A stable hand came by with her dinner and gave her a professional, dispassionate cleaning, saying little beyond "stand here" and "raise your arms" and the like.

Late in the night, when Anna couldn't sleep, she tried tapping on the wall to get Anne Marie's attention, but Anne Marie was either unwilling to tap back or she was asleep. Anna could see the light from the night hand's lantern and she did not dare trying to whisper through the wall.

Anna did eventually get some restless sleep, and as she sat on her mattress the next morning rubbing her eyes a stable hand entered her stall with her breakfast. Placing it next to her, he grabbed a crate from outside the stall door and sat down opposite her. "Your friend ran away last night," he said softly. "Out the window and off. They said I should come talk to you about it."

"Ran where?" was the only question that made it through her shocked confusion. She looked up at the window on the wall, pictured Anne Marie pulling herself up and through. The stable hand shrugged.

"Running might be the closest thing we've got to a safeword," he said. "You came here, you know that civilization is a long way off but there are still links to it out here. People have run before, and the sheriff is a friend so as long as you're willing to admit why you're butt naked except for a chastity device they'll help you out as far as a set of old clothes and bus fare."

"We dumped our entire lives to get here," she said.

"Well," he said, "I guess that was part of what she weighed versus staying here, and she took off. We all make choices."

Anna didn't entirely appreciate being reminded of that fact at this exact moment, her friend being destitute and her own life being in the hands of the people who caused that, but she had enough self awareness to know that part of the reason the remark stung was because it was true. We all make choices, and choices have consequences.

"Anyway, they wanted me to come talk to you because y'all came here together and they didn't want you thinking they had done something to or with her. They think you might bolt too but I looked at your intake file and interview and I told them I didn't see it, but I guess that's your private business at this moment."

Anna looked at him without saying anything. That she might also run hadn't occurred to her and the idea wasn't appealing. Her time here had been okay for her personally so far, she thought, and life with nothing but old clothes and bus fare was scary. Plus the ranch was the only opportunity she had ever seen to really live the kind of kinky life people only dreamed of, and she was well aware they did not take re-applicants.

"Oh, and I'm going to go talk to Isis after this, so don't worry about her." Paul was addressing a confused look he saw on Anna's face. "Oh, she's the brunette that I heard kind of kicked off the bullying your girl got yesterday. Isis is the type to get a pretty big thrill from having run somebody off so...I'll have a talk with her and when I'm done she'll know better than to try that shit with you too."

Anna was lost for a moment considering what that talk might look like and how strange this place was, how strange her life had become. The stable hand started speaking again and her attention snapped back to him.

"Well you seem like a nice girl and I strongly suspect you'll catch the attention of one of us before too long. I'm telling Buddy to stay the hell away from you too. He's the ugly one who also did your girl in. I'm Paul, you'll see me around and if you need to we can talk again but I'll be straight with you in saying I don't truck with more than one of y'all at the same time and my needs are currently being met." He stood up. "You have a nice day, okay? Sorry things didn't work out for your friend."

He left, leaving Anna alone with her breakfast. She started to pile the scrambled eggs onto a piece of toast, reasoning in the absence of utensils that was the easiest way to eat. But as she held it something someone, the woman who greeted them and took their clothes, in fact, had said. "Your state of mind is probably the biggest determinant of how this goes for you. Get your brains as less-than-human as you can, as soon as you can."

Anna placed the plate of food on the floor. She got off the mattress and onto her hands and knees. Smiling slightly, she plunged her face into her scrambled eggs.

PART THREE

Isis sat on her mattress, waiting to hear the click of the latch opening and morning yard time to begin. Isis was more than confident in her status as head bitch on the yard, so she knew she could take her time and her favored spot would still be waiting for her. Many of the other stock would bound out the door, either feeling pent up in their stalls all night or trying to be first on the exercise equipment or whatever.

That wasn't Isis' style. Hers was to sit back and relax. She stood up, though, when she heard the doors belonging to the stalls on either side swing open and she heard the stock on either side enter the yard. Her lock had not clicked. She went and pushed on it, finding that it did not budge. A voice called from the opposite end of the stall.

"It ain't broke." Isis spun around. A stable hand named Paul stood at the half door, looking at her with a flat, even expression on his face. "It's closed because we need to talk," he said. He tossed a pair of handcuffs into the stall. "Put 'em on, behind your back."

Isis considered for a brief second asking Paul what was going on but decided against it. They were permitted to talk to the stable hands, sure, but questioning them was a bad idea.

"I saw that," Paul said. "Hesitating." Isis cursed inwardly and hurried to pick up the handcuffs, slapping one on her wrist before putting her hands behind her back and quickly connecting the others. It was not her first time. "Face away and back towards me," Paul said.

Isis did so, eventually coming to a stop when her ass hit the half door. She heard a scraping noise and saw a steel cable come down in front of her face, quickly settling around her neck and drawing snug. Not tight enough to choke her, but she would have had trouble getting more than one or two fingers between the cable and her neck. Isis knew what this was. The looped cable functioned as a snare at the end of a five or six foot pole, leaving her trapped at the far end and able to be pushed around by whoever held the other end of the pole.

Paul pushed forward on the pole and she stumbled forward a few steps. Behind her she heard Paul open the half door, and then she was stumbling backward as he pulled on the pole. She stumbled out the door and he swung her into the hallway, then steered her down to her knees.

Dropping his end of the pole, he grabbed the middle links of the handcuffs and pulled upward. Isis cried out in pain and then alarm as she heard a click and he let go of the cuffs and she felt them drop only a quarter inch, leaving her hands stuck in a painful strappado.

"Isn't that fun?" Paul asked. "I wanted something special so I had them weld a little ring an arm's length up the pole. C'mon now!" He yanked upward on the pole and Isis scrambled to get her feet under her and tried not to trip as Paul began pushing her forward.

Isis began to get a bad feeling. She had been in the snare before, sometimes being carted to the nurse for a checkup, sometimes up to the big house because the cook wanted to unwind from a big formal dinner by facefucking some stock. This felt different. Paul wasn't one of the cruel hands, for one.

Isis wasn't stupid. She quickly put together as she marched that they had decided that she had gone too far with the new girl the day before and they wanted Isis to pay after the fact. Whatever, she thought as she marched. Isis had been stock for three years. This wasn't the first time somebody above her was pissed at her. The only thing that confused her was the fact that they were headed the wrong way. The punishment barn was to the right out of her stall and Paul had taken them to the left.

Paul reached the end of the stock barn and exited through the open door. "I know what you're thinking," he told Isis. "We're taking the scenic route." He steered her in a wide loop toward the front side of the barn and Isis realized he intended to parade her in front of the yard.

Isis had long been at peace with being stock. She loved it. It was a peaceful, relaxed life with no responsibility. Sure, you were an object of sexual use, constantly available to a bunch of cruel farm hands, but so what? Isis liked sex, the kinkier the better. But Isis had come to this life as a switch and it didn't take long before her dominant side started craving status.

She had come to enjoy pushing others around and being treated with deference, and she had worked hard to foster that within the yard. That made it sting all the more, then, when she was reminded how little power she actually had.

A person somehow caught in this kind of situation might bargain, might offer to suck Paul's dick to keep him from humiliating her. But Paul could put his dick down Isis' throat any time he pleased, that and more. She wasn't a person, she was stock, and stock had nothing to bargain with.

Isis burned red as they passed the corner of the barn and began up the side fence of the outdoor yard. As soon as one of the other stock noticed what was happening they all took notice and soon every pair of eyes in the yard was staring at her. Paul turned the corner of the yard and motioned for the nearest stock to come to the fence. They obliged.

"Hold this," Paul said as he handed over his end of the pole. "I need to re-tie my shoes." Isis groaned in pain as the hand-off twisted at her shoulders and she would have glared a hole in the stupid bitch holding the pole except she couldn't turn around. The pole was tweaked upward slightly and Isis groaned again as she tried to plot out how she was going to take revenge without triggering sanction from above.

"Whatever," she thought. "I'll have time to figure it out." She felt the pole being handed back to Paul and her forcible march continued. Isis stared at the ground as she walked and she breathed through gritted teeth as she cleared the final stretch of fence. Paul turned his end of the pole to the left, steering Isis' end to the right, towards the punishment barn.

Arriving at the barn a moment later, Paul turned her to the side and took up in front of her, leaving her to struggle backwards up the entrance ramp and through the door he had thrown open. Paul steered her to her knees again and she felt him unhooking her hands. Loosening the snare, he slipped it back over her head and pulled her up by the arm. He pushed her into the near corner. "Face the wall while I get ready," he said. She heard various clicks and clunks and tried to think about what Paul might do.

Isis had been in the punishment barn before. In the beginning for mouthing off a few times, plenty of times because some stable hand got off on hurting stock, and even one month long stretch of getting hauled in there practically every night because she made the mistake of spontaneously climaxing while being caned. The hand who had done it wanted to show all his friends what he could make Isis do, and after that was done there was a pile of demerits to burn through because of all of the unauthorized orgasms.

Paul returned to the corner and pulled Isis away from the wall. Spinning her around, she saw that he had set the one bar prison in place on the center stage, and sitting at the foot of the one bar was a pair of ballet boots.

Isis hated the one bar prison, as it restricted any meaningful movement without the physical joy of bondage. You couldn't sink onto the bar the way you could sink into a mummification. And she hated the ballet boots because they were so difficult to stand in but she Hated HATED the idea of combining the boots and the bar because the unsteadiness of the boots would mean that she was forever tilting and twisting and leaning into the bar.

Isis realized that her chastity belt would be coming off to mount her on the bar and she winced, because she was reasonably sure her cunt was literally going to be dripping when it came off. Isis liked being stock and she liked impact play and she even liked being punished for being bad stock, and all of that left her turned on, but for Paul to have gone the extra mile and found the method of punishment that she legitimately, truly did not like, well, Isis liked that most of all.

One of the many paradoxes of submissive life, she thought as Paul whistled at the string of juice arcing between her pussy and the chastity belt in his hand. He made a show of tossing lube he had grabbed to the side and laughed.

Paul maneuvered the now fully naked Isis toward the stage, pausing briefly to swap out her handcuffs for thick leather cuffs and to move her hands in front of her body. Then he sat her on the stage in order to get the boots on her feet, and when they were laced up and the reinforcing ankle straps were in place he helped her to her feet and moved her into place and hit the button on the remote that drove the bar and the mounted dildo up, up, and into her soaking wet snatch.

Holding another button on the remote lowered a hook to which he attached her hands, and then they were retracted all the way above her head. Now that she was stretched out he adjusted the height of the dildo, watching her reaction to dial it in. Finally satisfied, he turned away and went to the drawers where the various punishment implements were stored.