The Reprogramming Farm Ch. 08

I SCISSOR OUT WITH MY THIGHS, kicking for all I've got.

One heel connects with the soft Jay's stomach. He grunts.

I kick out again and get him in the jaw, I think. It's hard enough to hurt my foot, but I don't stop. I just keep bucking and screaming.

"Ssssshhh," Mikey hushes in my ear, stroking my face. "It's so you'll realize Jay can make you feel good too. He can give you orgasms just like me."

The noises coming out of my mouth are animal. I'm screaming every nasty word, every vile threat I can find in my terrified, furious, desperate state.

I land another kick to Jay's thigh this time.

A hard hand closes around my ankle, stopping the motion. I twist at the torso. Mikey is far too strong.

Another hand closes around my other ankle. My screams give way to whimpers.

Tears pour from my eyes.

I'm begging but they don't understand me because my mouth can't form coherent words.

Mikey's there, hushing me, telling me to relax, telling me not to fight it, stroking my hair. He presses his cheek against mine.

Jay tries to line up but I dodge him.

I think maybe it's right at that moment that Mikey feels my tears or registers my whimpers aren't born of rage anymore. Or maybe he just loses patience with Jay. I don't know.

His voice comes out harsher than I've heard it. "STOP."

He says it like he's disgusted but I don't know if it's with me or Jay or the whole horrible situation. "Get him out of here."

Jay's grip on my ankles doesn't leave though.

Mikey stands, his jaw leaves my cheek, his hands leave my arms. I kick lamely at the grip on my ankles, but they stay firm. I could try to roll over now, fight harder, try to stand and rise, run away but where would I go? I'm not sure my legs will carry me at the moment.

I just lay in my cumpuddle and pant.

The air whirs across my body as Mikey walks toward Jay. "Let go of her."

"She's my wife."

Whatever Mikey says, it's too low for me to hear, but a second later, Jay's hands leave my body.

I close my eyes.

I think maybe there's a limit to what the human mind can handle, a threshold that can't be crossed. Sleep tugs at the edge of my brain, and I reach for it gladly, letting myself drift in a half-sleep.

My body is lifted.

My face settles against a hard, warm chest. I know that smell. I know the flannel shirt. I know the feel of those muscles, the collar bone under my cheek.

I loathe them, but there's comfort here too. He carries me out of the farmhouse without another word, down the grassy hill through cold, wet air. The rhythm of his steps is soothing, and I drift, my body slack.

He walks down the aisle of the stable and opens a door.

Bright light shining orange through my eyelids, has me opening one eye. A bathroom. White tiles, a massive glassed-in shower, clean chrome fixtures, fluffy white towels.

Mikey turns on the water, sets me on my feet.

I sag against the wall, drop down to my butt, then roll onto my side in fetal position, letting the hot water cascade over me.

I'm dimly aware of Mikey moving around the room, setting out towels, taking off his own close, folding them carefully. Then he's in the shower with me.

I try to push him away, but he ignores me, humming and coaxing as he washes my hair and rinses it, then takes a soapy cloth to my whole body, washing away the mixture of cum, old and new.

When he's done, he pulls me into his lap so I'm straddling him, the stream of water hitting my back, my face resting on his shoulder.

He turns my face and kisses my lips.

He kisses my neck.

I ignore him.

With a grunt, he lays me down on the tile floor, sucks at my nipples, slides a finger between my thighs where I'm tender and sore.

Eventually it starts to feel good. He's so insistent.

When he parts my legs, holding me open with his hands under my ass, and his face in my pussy, I can't even pretend I don't like it.

He uses his tongue on me for a long, long time.

Too long. It's like he's trying to tell me something or send me a message, but I don't speak whatever language he's using. Somehow, somewhere, I kind of started to trust him. It was there in the back of my mind, the lurking expectation that at the very least, he'd be honest with me. He'd listen to me. He might be a fucked-up kind of therapist, but I'd thought that at the very least, he believed in what he was doing.

The second he let Jay anywhere near me proved he didn't.

He doesn't let up, just patiently laps at my clit, over and around, up and down, and eventually my body answers the call. He knows his way around a woman's body.

When the orgasm comes, it tears out of me, blinding hot, searingly sharp, bringing tears to my eyes, sending my legs and arms and face convulsing and shuddering.

He rises up then, gets hold of his dick, and slides inside me. I ache inside, as he slides in.

When he's all the way in, his balls snug against my asscheeks, he brings his lips to mine. Water pours down his face, fills my mouth, runs down my cheeks. It's a wet kiss, like we're washing each other's insides.

I remember how badly I wanted this earlier, how much I thought I needed his cock specifically. In a strange way, the blonde's words make sense to me. She needs more cock than Duane can give her, but still she loves him.

The thought makes my soul shudder.

This is different. He's making love to me, and somehow it's calling to my heart. He's fucking with my head again.

He goes slow again, moving in and out with long, deep thrusts. The message is clear. I cannot deny him, but when I need him to be, he's capable of gentleness.

"I made a mistake," he whispers into my mouth, his breath hot against me.

The water has turned his eye lashes to dark spikes around those unsettlingly pale eyes.

"Listen to me closely, Tara." His voice is hoarse. "I don't apologize often, so I'll only say this once. I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

He stares at me for a long time.

Eventually I swallow, my tongue thick in my mouth. And nod sharply.

Then his tongue is in my mouth, and I have no choice but to open wide, thrust my tongue against his.

He's practically stopped moving now, so it's me who brings my hips up, thrusts up to take him deeper, writhe my clit against the base of his cock.

I'd love to pretend that this time, he forced the orgasm on me, but really it's the opposite. This time, I take it from him, and he lets me, holding his body still so I can fuck myself on his cock. He waits, his tongue tangling in my mouth, offering occasionally praise until I come. It's the first time I've made myself cum since we got here.

When I'm done, and the last of my shaking has subsided, I lie there and let him use my body, submitting to him in a way that makes my insides melt. It's such a dominant move on his part, to simply use my prone, slack body, while he thrusts away, using my pussy like he owns it.

When he comes inside me, I hate to admit it, but I'm glad.

It tingles away deep inside me.

I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH TIME PASSES. I sleep. He wakes me up, forces me to drink something sickeningly sweet, or hot and salty. Sometimes he fucks me. Othertimes, he guides my face to his lap and I suck him off gladly.

Sometimes it's light.

Sometimes it's dark.

Sometimes he carries me to the bathroom, other times he makes me walk. Sometimes he takes me in the shower. Other times he dumps me on the toilet.

I don't resist anything.

I do whatever he says, then stagger back to bed and collapse under the covers, seeking out the smooth darkness of questionless doubtless sleep.

He's always there though. A constant shape in my consciousness. Warm and strangely comforting. I float away.

This time though, it's different. There's no gentle murmurs of my name, no gentle strokes, no easing me to wake.

This time, he's insistently tapping me on the shoulder. "Time for breakfast."

I grunt.

He slides his hand around my shoulder, gripping me by the neck, forcing me onto my back.

His eyes burn into mine. "You need to wake up now."

I was having such a nice dream too. I try to remember it, but it pulls away, drifting from the corners of my mind like sand through my fingers.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

Meh. "Can't I just suck your dick or something?"

That makes him smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, going all warm like they do when he's pleased. "Not yet."

He yanks the covers off me.

I grumble and roll onto my back. My hands come up to cover my tits. That's when I realize I'm covered in sticky white stuff.

"I jerked off all over you."

"Why?"

"I was serious when I said we have to come every 3-4 hours. I didn't want to wake you during the nights."

"So you just busted all over me?" I'm covered in it. I trace my hands over my body. It's crusted along my neck, over my tits, my belly. Between my legs. My clit pulses happily, the whore inside my smiles, stretches and purrs, even as the prude recoils.

"I didn't want to wake you." That's almost sweet.

"What's wrong with a tissue?"

He cocks his head. "Didn't occur to me. I don't really even wake up. Normally I just fuck whatever is closest, still half asleep."

"Gross."

"Actually, I think it showed remarkable restraint, even half asleep. You're lucky I didn't just fuck your ass."

My nipples harden instantly. The idea that he owns me so completely that he'd just fuck my ass in his sleep, use sleeping body like he had every right to it. But then...something else bugs me. "Who did you fuck last night?"

"My fist." He studies my face. "You've been asleep for three days. I've woken you up during the day, but left you alone at night."

Three days. Jesus.

"Who did you fuck before I came?"

He sends me a look like that's-what-you-care-about? "Sarah. The red-head CEO. She likes to sleep with a dick in her mouth. Jealous?"

"Absolutely not." I push away the crusty sheets, and the image of him sprawled out on the bed like a lazy pasha, me between his thighs, and stand. "Can I shower first?"

"No need. Come on." He takes my hand and leads me out of the stable. When we get the grass I look around for boots, but he just hefts me up into his arms.

My cheeks heat. I don't know what to do with my hands, so I drape an arm over his shoulders, try to take some of my weight off his arms.

"You don't weigh much," he says. "Don't worry."

He climbs fast, and then we're in the entrance of the farmhouse. I hesitate when he puts me down. "Is Jay..."

Mikey shakes his head fast, his jaw hard. "No. I'll keep him away from you until it's time for you to go. If you want, I'll even help mitigate your divorce if that's your choice. That's part of our service. Mitigation of genial conclusion to the therapy."

I'm not sure what to make of that. Mostly, I just want some clothes. And I want to go home...except home is the house I lived in with Jay. A house that's in his name. If I divorce him, I'm not even sure what I'll do. He wanted me to be a housewife, so I quit my job a couple years ago. I don't even know what I'm qualified to do.

It hurts to think about that. I can divorce Jay, but I'll be homeless and jobless. I don't even own my car. That's in his name too.

Mikey's big warm hand closes around my shoulder. He leads me into the dining room. It's packed with men. There are a few women seated at tables, but most of them are on their knees, under the table. The men are eating food. The women are sucking cock.

Maybe. I look closer. They actually seem to be mostly just licking balls.

"What's up with all the ballsucking?" I ask.

"Dee says it's relaxing."

I shake my head.

Mikey keeps my hand in his, leads me up to a buffet. Eggs, waffles, sausage, fresh fruit, smoked salmon, bagels, yogurt. My stomach churns.

He hands me a plate, forces me to take fruit, sausage, eggs, a waffle. He drenches it with butter and syrup. "You're too skinny."

I've worked hard to be that skinny. I like being that skinny. I send him a sour glare.

When we get to the tables, men stare at me. They're eyes lingering on my crusty chest, my hard nipples. Someone in the room grunts and presumably cums in the mouth of a woman. The women move around the room, serving different men.

I glance at Mikey. "Is that what I'm supposed to be doing now?"

"If you want."

I stare at my food.

"You'll feel better with a full stomach."

I push the food around. Take a bite of eggs, a bit of sausage, nibble on the waffle.

Mikey starts chatting with a guest. They're here for a bachelor party. It makes me wonder what the cost is for the non-patient guests. Jay paid for us to come, for me to be tricked out. More men pay to use other men's wives.

It sends my stomach churning all over again.

The blonde is there. She stops next to Mikey, points at his lap. "May I?"

I hold my breath, glance at his lap. There's a bulge. My eyes burn.

"No thanks, Dee. I'm good."

"I'll take you up on the offer," says the guest, pulling back, a seriously smug look passing over his fat face.

Dee slides under the table, and he sighs.

It makes me think about Mikey. And all the cum he sprayed all over me, all the cum he's still got in his balls. I want that more than sausage and eggs.

Everyone is staring at me. The women keep casting me resentful glares. The men keep eying me like they can't wait to fuck me. I'm half afraid Mikey will make me stand up and present my ass for fucking any moment. And the only thing I can think of is his cock and how badly I want his cum. I want to taste it.

I set down my fork, and slide under the table.

"What are y—" His brows are high.

I unbuckle his belt, pull out his long, thick cock. He helps me, pulls his pants down below his knees, spreads his legs wide, so I have total access to his cock and balls.

There's something I can't explain, a sense of relief or rightness that I feel the second his hands slide into my hair.

I look up at his face. He looks...confused mostly, but not unhappy.

He doesn't tug or yank, this isn't the throatfucking of yesterday. It's almost lazy. He just lets me do what I like. I slobber along the shaft, and lap at the weeping head. I take him deep enough to make myself gag. I use my hands, and he groans.

He strokes my hair a few times absently, then turns back to his conversation with the guest. I don't follow along. Just take comfort in his cock. Eventually, he pushes out his chair, his hand comes back to my hair, not quite forcing me to take him deeper, but guiding me into a fast rhythm. I work hard, rotating my face back and forth, swirling my tongue around the tip, sucking hard.

He grunts long and low, and then it's there, filling my mouth with spurt after spurt of thick delicious cum. It tastes even better today, if that's possible. Either that or it's because it's been so long since I've had any. I suck harder, swallowing as fast as I can, but it's too much. It spills over and drips down my cheeks. I just keep on sucking.

It settles my stomach, floods me with a sense of goodwill that makes me moan and my clit pulse and whine.

I look up at his face. He's smiling down at me. "That was beautiful, Tara. Thank you."

I smile happily and trail my tongue up his shaft again. He takes his cock in his hands, bops me on the nose with it, and guides my face to his balls.

I lap at them for the rest of the meal. Let my eyes close. He toys with my hair idly, absently. It's relaxing. I'm snug between his warm spready thighs, safe under the table, away from all the prying eyes. At some point, I'm not sure when, I realize he's slid his foot between my legs, that my pussy is pressing up against the top of his boot. The tip flush against my clit. I didn't even notice it, but I've been humping his boot and licking his balls for...I don't even know how long.

I look around, embarrassed and ashamed, and kind of angry, but no one has noticed, or if they have, they aren't judging me for acting like a bitch in heat. No one except Mikey who's still staring at me with that confused look on his face. Like he doesn't quite know what to make of me.

He places his hands on either side of my face, pulls me up and kisses my mouth, right there in the middle of the room.

"You want me to fuck you right here on this table, Tara?"

I do. I really do. But I can't quite bring myself to say it. I want his cock inside me hard. I want him to do in front of all these people. I want him to fill me up so full I stay that way.

It doesn't matter.

He knows.

His lips curl.