If you’re just finding this story, you can start here with Part 1 and Part 2.
Daddy broke off the kiss and said in a low voice, “Heel, cunt.”
I bit my lip as his eyes bored into mine, and then he was up and moving, bare feet again, straight legged blue jeans and a raggedy blue t-shirt with a logo that I couldn’t have been bothered to recognize, not with his scent filling my nose, the feel of his fingers on my face, the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue.
He talked when he walked. I was about to get the grand tour. He spoke out into the room, not even trying to direct his voice down to me as I crawled at his feet, but my ears were tuned to every word. What my summer was going to consist of was dripping from his lips, lips that I wanted to kiss again.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a frat house, but a working farm operated in-part by a local fraternity, including some students from a variety of majors. And I was to become part of this farm, a part that would become more clear as the day wore on. What I thought about it? I couldn’t even say. Did it matter? I was his cunt now, and as I struggled to keep up, I knew that whatever lay before me, I’d just have to accept it.
I moved quickly, catching up as he strode deliberately across the cool tiles of the wide open kitchen to the back door, and then we were out in the yard, right into a lengthy, well-manicured lawn, where we paused, and I took in the environs of my new summer home.
The morning sun welcomed my skin from between a stand of oaks, sunlight dappling my pale back and ass, the result of too much time indoors bent over my laptop grading papers or teaching web-based classes. I blinked, trying to take in the scene before me, inhaling the freshly cut grass, the scent of roses nearby. Early birds warbled from the branches above, then it out across the lawn toward a line of shrubs and grasses near the fence line on our right. In the distance, an old brown barn rose up. And beyond, fields of who knew what.
But before I could take anything else in, Daddy spun around, squatting in front of me, a familiar object in his hand. “You’ll have more mobility inside the house, cunt, but outside you’ll be leashed.” He held the length of rough brown leather up for me to see, and I simply nodded, accepting, wanting to thank him when he continued. “For your safety, my darling. We can’t have our cunt straying and getting hurt. There are some dangerous things on a farm, and I want you always within reach.” He snapped the clasp onto the ring of my collar, gave it a little tug and then looked back at me with a satisfied smile.
But he wasn’t done.
“I have one more little thing for you. Almost forgot,” he said, going down to one knee and fishing in his pocket. He pulled out two pieces of sparkling silver, then leaned over, and I felt the bite of the first clamp on my left nipple. I grunted as he applied the second, the sudden pain both unsettling and enticing. If I’d forgotten about my pussy as I knelt on all fours looking over the yard, I was suddenly reminded how empty it felt as the pain in my nipples hit my clit like an electric shock.
I shuddered, heard a gentle ringing as my breasts swung below me.
“Bells,” he said, his grin widening as he must have seen recognition spreading over my face. “Little silver bell clamps for my pretty little cunt. I’ll teach you some ways we’ll use them later, but for now, understand, for starters, that you’ll wear your bells for me during the day so I can always know where you are. Every time you move, your little bells will jingle for me.” He licked his lips, and I fixated on his tongue as he did it. Did he do that on purpose?
And then he leaned in close, and I could smell his coffee breath again, feel the heat of his fingers on my chin. “And when the summer is over, when that sound is gone from your life, you’ll miss it. You’ll remember the little jingle jangle of your bells, always there, and it’ll be like a part of you is missing.”
I swallowed.
“Maybe I’ll let you take them with you so you can wear them when you're playing with your clit and thinking of your summer on the farm and what a dumb, happy little cunt you were for me.”
I opened my mouth, words hanging in the space between my teeth and tongue, wanting to say so many things just then. But he stood up then, leaving me choking on the flood of words that filled my mind, conflicting, confusing, and making me feel utterly lost to anything but the thought of the enduring bite of the bell clamps. Words. I used to be so fluent. They used to be so easy for me, flowing like wine onto the page as I prepped my coursework for my students, the coursework for my own dissertation, my teaching blog, the paper I published for my professional journal, my short stories and that one novel that seemed to escape my time and prioritization. But here. Here I was choking on those words, short-circuited by his scent, his words, and the pain-pleasure, the need that made my mind so quiet, a quiet I would come to welcome, even seek.
A dumb cunt on all fours in the backyard of a farmhouse. I closed my eyes and let the words fall away, let the need between my legs fill the space.
“Heel,” he growled, and then he was off with a tug of the leash. I scrambled after, trying to ease the pull, feeling the bite of the clamps, the bells ringing like background chatter in a coffee shop — not enough to distract, but there. There, filling my head with sensation. The dewy grasses, cool and soft under my fingers. The swish of his jeans and the way he’d begun to hum to himself. A bluejay lit at the edge of the garden nearby, hopped, then was off again as we neared. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually noticed a bird, much less been able to identify one. Not since I was a child. Not since I was forced to slow down and see.
When he stopped, I stopped, my nose inches from the lemon yellow of a blooming rose. It filled my vision, drooping with early morning dew, and when Daddy spoke, I realized he must have placed me there on purpose. “This flower bed will be one of your daily responsibilities, cunt. Everyone on a farm earns their keep, and today, you will learn how to earn yours. Don’t think for once that you’re going to spend your summer lounging naked and having the guys who work the farm stroking your clit and making you cum. You’re here to work. You’ll work as hard as everyone else, and when the day is over, everyone else will work you.”
I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the delicate treasure in front of me, letting his words sink in. Then, suddenly his hands were on me, one hand on my collar, keeping me in place, the other invading my cunt. “Take a deep breath cunt,” he said. “Every morning, rain or shine, you’ll be here tending to these roses. Breathe them in. Love them, and then make sure not a single weed exists anywhere in this bed. Or any of the others. Water them. Feed them. And I’ll teach you to prune and care for them. They’re your summer charge,” he continued, his fingers driving into me. I grunted, trying to fuck him back, aching for the words I’d already learned to crave.
“Do you understand, cunt?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I grunted through clinched teeth, trying not to cry out, to beg for his cock. Then he spun me around, his fingers gone from inside me, suddenly pushing into my open mouth.
“When you’re working out here, if any of the boys comes by and takes your leash, you will give him whatever he wants, just like you’re doing now. Your mouth, your cunt or your ass. Make him cum, then get back to work.” He worked his fingers into my throat, filling my mouth with three thick digits, and I choked and sputtered, but kept my eyes focused on his, let him have my mouth. He didn’t want answers, and neither did I. “Shake your tits, bitch, if you understand.”
I whimpered, suddenly realizing the purpose of the bells, and I shook my tits as ordered, hearing the soft ringing underneath my ragged breathing.
“That’s right,” he said, catching on. “Those bells are there because you won’t be using that mouth much to talk, and besides, I love the idea of your tits swinging back and forth to ring those bells. Don’t you?”
I grunted, trying to take his fingers fucking my face, felt tears in my eyes again as I gagged, but I willed my tits into motion, ringing my bells in a way that would become more familiar and natural in the coming weeks than I ever thought possible.
“There’ll be other chores and tasks, and no matter what you’re doing, you’ll dedicate yourself to both doing your work and making any of the boys cum should they find you and wanna fuck you. There’s usually as many as ten guys like me on the farm during the day, and all of them are going to want to fuck you. But there will be no excuses for you if you don’t get your work done. You will not like how I punish you.” He said the last in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his face inching closer to mine with each word as he fucked my throat.
And then suddenly his fingers were gone, and I was gasping, gaping, drooling, afraid to close my mouth until he gave me the word, hoping just then that my obedience would earn me an orgasm. But he just sat back on his heels, his eyes wandering across my body, searching my eyes for what — defiance, disobedience, denial? It wasn’t there, not even an inkling. My clit was throbbing. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I felt the drool hanging from my chin, saw a thin strand of saliva crossing the space between my lips to his right hand. I let it hang there, unwilling to move, to do anything other than to stare back into his green eyes and wait for his next words.
He waited, taking it all in as my breathing calmed, and then he smiled. “Good girl.”
And I couldn’t help but smile back.
Author’s Notes: It seems like it’s going to be a glorious summer, and it’s only been the morning of the first day. Will she even know who she is when it’s time to be boxed up and sent home? What could happen on the farm over the course of 100 days?
I guess we’ll find out. But you can bet that it’s more than she expects.
Good question. Her summer will take a harsher turn in Season 2 and 3, and then something will happen that she didn't expect. But in the end, I'll answer your question.
There is an eerie feeling about this entire arrangement. I know it is a summer agreement, but what happens if one of them likes the treatment each one provides? It was there in Franklin Farm where it all began and where it will end. The humiliation and degradation encompassing these past weeks will continue all summer. She’s a school teacher in the throes of a college fraternity student who is enjoying passing around his “cunt” with all the other fraternity brothers who want to fuck her as well. At this time, she is not complaining but, in turn, becoming so turned on by the whole scenario.