Breeding on the Farm

 

Chapter One

 

Training new attendants was always a pain in the ass. A lot of them thought it would be a fun and sexy way to earn some cash. The moment when they figured out that being an attendant on the Farm was actually work half the group of ten immediately dropped out and took their meager pay envelopes with them.

Kim wasn’t disturbed by this. She had expected it. The three women and two men that remained were the cream of the crop and though they would be working, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard or disgusting as she had made it out to be. Yes, it was sex work. Yes, it was semi-legal at times. But it paid well for those who were willing to get their hands—and other body parts—dirty in a mostly metaphorical sense.

She looked over the group waiting expectantly in the common room. None of the clients had arrived yet for the evening’s activities so they still had time to mentally prepare themselves. Alissa was the tall blonde with the big tits; she was going to be a hit with almost everyone who attended the Farm. Aleksandra was a moderately drab brunette who wasn’t especially beautiful or tall or noteworthy in appearance, but she was the randiest of the recruits having propositioned everyone in the training class, a few of the regular workers, and Kim herself. Ryann was a cute little redhead who was eager to please and could apparently take a great deal of pain. She would be a hit for the guests who liked to spank their partners. All three women wore their traditional French maid costumes well. They should, they were custom tailored to their measurements.

Of the men Michael had surprised her. He was almost too much for the Farm. His face was rather plain, but he had huge muscles—but a sweet disposition—and many of the female, and a few male, guests would want him waiting on them. In the Farm’s standard issue leather pants and chest harness he was an incredible sight. He would be in high demand once the Farm’s regulars got wind of him.

But it was Dylan who Kim couldn’t tear her eyes away from. Not nearly as muscular as Michael he still cut an impressive figure in his leather pants and harness. Sandy brown hair topped his head and matched a small patch of curls on his chest. He had green eyes and lips almost too pretty to belong to a man. The fact he was half her age was the only thing keeping Kim from ordering him to her bed under the guise of a final exam. She didn’t want to embarrass herself. Seeing his nearly perfect body next to her well-used one was too depressing for her to consider for long. She maintained her profession attitude at all times in front of him and the class.

The fact he had made her panties wet the moment she had seen his naked cock was a secret she kept to herself. But it also made her wonder what he would do if he knew the truth.

“Collaring is considered by some in the BDSM community an almost sacred act, like marriage. You can consider it whatever you want. You’ll all be wearing red collars tonight. That will mark you as novices to the Farm. The guests will know you are new but will also expect full services. I don’t want to go into what is and what isn’t allowed. You already know that. Wearing a red collar is a protective measure. It keeps you safe; it keeps the guests safe. Any questions?” Kim looked around the room and no one raised their hand or said a word. She could tell they were nervous by their darting eyes and previous uncomfortable laughter as she ran down the list of guests and some unusual proclivities. The laughter stopped when she reminded them it was unprofessional and would result in termination of employment.

Employment at this stage was more a concept than a legal agreement. She made all payments to them in cash. Once they had proven themselves capable and trustworthy, checks and benefits would follow.

“Ready then?” she asked and pulled the five red leather collars out of her bag and started with the women. They automatically lifted up their chins and allowed Kim to collar them. It was a splash of color around their necks that set off their black and white uniforms. Once the collars were in place Kim had learned over the years, they became more tractable and submissive, which wasn’t exactly what she needed in employees, but they also became more sexually willing and open, which was what she needed. It was a trade off.

When she got to Michael he seated himself so she wouldn’t have to stand on tiptoe to buckle the heavy leather band around his neck. It was with some relief that she buckled it into place; it was the largest they had in their supply room and even so it barely fit around his huge neck. The last notch cut into the leather accepted the tang of the buckle. Kim almost wished she had asked Mark to make a bigger collar for their new recruit.

Dylan waited expectantly for her to collar him. He didn’t sit like Michael but did lean forward ever so slightly and lift his chin. Her fingers were trembling as she fitted the collar to him. Other than that slight tell, Kim didn’t give away anything as she collared the most beautiful servant the Farm had ever seen. She wanted to fuck him right then and there. But she controlled herself. He was even more handsome with the collar—and looked ready to be chained to a wall where she could do with him as she pleased. That wasn’t going to happen tonight. He had an assignment to fulfill. She had duties to perform. Neither of those facts stopped her knees from going weak and her panties becoming too moist.

“I always insist on collaring our new employees. As principle owner of the Farm you are all responsible for obedience to me above everyone else. That includes other employees and guests. I’ve heard it said you don’t really know yourself until you’ve been collared and controlled by another human being. Take this as a practice run tonight. None of you are being restrained and tormented,” she glanced over at Ryann who was smiling with eagerness at the comment, “but that will come soon enough. You are to serve our guests as they have requested. Do not fall short. You are all auditioning still for your jobs; everyone is replaceable.” She nodded and looked at each of them except for Dylan. She couldn’t meet his green eyes again. “You have your assignments, get to your rooms and perform as I’ve trained you.”

As a group they moved to the exit. Kim let her eyes linger on Dylan’s ass before he turned the corner and headed up the stairs. She silently cursed her weak will and went hunting for Analise.

Her most trusted employee and confidant was going over the guest list in the office. Though Mark owned the other half of the business Analise had proven to be an incredible manager and Kim wondered how the Farm had survived for years without her. She was also incredibly sexy in her uniform as well. Kim forced herself not to lick her lips and reminded herself not to proposition the young woman for a bit of sexual relief before the evening had begun. “Any problems you can see?” she asked as if she were the professional whose image she tried to project, even if she was wearing skin tight pants, a riding crop dangling from her belt, and a corset that pushed up her breasts into a ridiculous amount of cleavage.

“None…unless you count the drooling you were doing of Dylan in the common room.”

“I didn’t—” Kim started to say, and then caught Analise’s knowing look. “Was it that obvious?”

“Obvious…not very. But I’m pretty sure the five new trainees all know you want to fuck Dylan.”

“Shit.”

“There’s a solution to that,” Analise told her.

“I know,” Kim snapped, but caught herself before continuing. “I know,” she repeated, “but I don’t want to do that just now.”

Her underling just shrugged. “It’s going to happen sooner or later, unless you fire him. And for a woman who runs a modern-day bordello you certainly have some prudish attitudes about sex.”

“It’s not a bordello, we run an adult entertainment resort,” Kim replied evenly. “And I’m not prudish about sex. I just happen to follow a more traditional avenue of sexual behavior in my personal life—you young folk can boink anything and anyone you want, it’s none of my business unless it’s on my time.”

“Young folk,” Analise snorted. “You aren’t that old.”

“Some days I feel that old,” Kim said. “Any messages? Complaints?”

“Just Mr. Vanvranken asking if we’ve hired, in his words, ‘a pretty Asian girl…or better, a pretty girl of color.’” She sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes…I mean, does anyone really get off on interracial stuff still?”

“You’re such a liberal young lady,” Kim teased. “Of course they do. Americans are a twisted lot when it comes to sex. And of course minorities willing to work here are harder to find in upstate New York.”

“You could import from the city?” Analise suggested.

“No,” Kim replied firmly ending the conversation.

“You want me to record what goes on in Dylan’s room tonight?”

“And torture myself with it? No.”

Analise glanced once at her boss and then slowly, deliberately hit the keys to let the security cameras record everything in Dylan’s assigned room for the evening. She made sure Kim saw her fingers dance on the keyboard. Kim said nothing, but left with a nod, intent on finding Mark who would be running security. It was a thankless job but as part owner it was his responsibility.

 

Bob Whalen and his wife Karen eagerly climbed the stairs to their room where the Farm’s newest attendant would be serving them for the evening. Although Bob led the way the moment they stepped into the room their traditional roles all but reversed.

Inside the room with the yellow and green wallpaper was a young man in the Farm’s traditional dress. He was much handsomer than promised and Mrs. Whalen smiled in approval.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Whalen. My name is Dylan. I’m here to serve you for the evening. How may I be of assistance.”

Karen immediately took charge. “The first thing you can do, Dylan, is to call him ‘Bob’. Inside this room he is at my mercy. You are to help me treat him correctly.”

“Of course, Mrs. Whalen.”

She smiled at his obedience. She liked that. She liked his polite manners that were contained in a pair of black leather pants, black leather harness, and red leather collar. He could easily be the same age as her son. She pushed that thought out of her head and turned to her husband. “Strip,” she ordered him, and then turned on her heel and walked over to the oversized cabinet in the room’s corner. It was the similar to every cabinet in every room of the Farm’s upper floor. Pulling out implements and restraints she tried to calm herself and remember the plan she had formed with her husband. This was to be a celebratory evening. They were out to please one another. They were showing their sexuality off in front of this young buck.

Best of all, Bob had given her free reign to do as she wished with their attendant. A hundred different scenarios ran through her head but she promised herself to stick to the plan.

Mostly.

By the time she had gathered her toys Bob had completed undressing and stood naked in the middle of the room, next to the simple steel framed bed. He was completely unselfconscious in front of a stranger. His cock was still soft. That was good. His belly was a little flabby and his hair was graying. He was certainly no perfect physical specimen, but what was she expecting after twenty years of marriage. Karen knew she wasn’t perfect either, her ass was too big and her tits too small. But inside the confines of the Farm that didn’t matter. They could pretend to be young and pristine and everyone would agree with them.

“Please put the cuffs and manacles on him, Dylan,” Mrs. Whalen requested handing him the leather and steel restraints. “Make sure they’re fixed firmly in place. He tends to get a bit wild when bound.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dylan replied with enthusiasm. If he was shy or reticent about restraining a naked man he didn’t show it. In less than a minute Bob was wearing the cuff and manacles. Mrs. Whalen had been adjusting the chains bolted to the wall and floorboard while Dylan worked. She led her husband over to the chains and proceeded to attach the chains to the cuffs.

“No collar or gag?” Dylan asked.

“I like to hear him moan and whimper,” Mrs. Whalen said. “He knows he’s not supposed to talk. There’s a penalty for that.” She picked up the short handled leather strip flogger from the side table where she had left it and absently, softly, slapped it against her palm. “We do need to restrain his cock, of course,” she said and handed Dylan a set of interlocked metal rings. “Put them on quickly,” she instructed him. “I don’t want to have to get ice from the kitchen to make him soft again.”

Dylan nodded and moved to obey. He had never worn a triple-crown cockring, but he knew how to use it. All of his instruction had been on a lifelike silicone dildo with attached balls. This was different. He had never handled another man’s cock before, but he couldn’t back out now; he needed the job and he needed to impress Kim.

He worked quickly, telling himself it was just a job, and it was just a piece of meat. The big ring he put over Bob’s entire package, balls and cock, snugging it between his manhood and his body. It was just tight enough to stay in place but not so tight to cut off circulation. The other two rings were slightly more difficult to put into place but he didn’t have time to be gentle. He had to force each of Bob’s balls separately through the smaller rings and then make sure the metal bands were correctly positioned. Once in place the triple-crown served as all cockrings did, restricting blood flow back from his cock. Immediately Bob’s manhood began to swell and harden.

“Very good,” Mrs. Whalen complimented him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve done this before?” she asked him.

“No ma’am.”

“Well, you handle another man’s cock very well,” she said with a confident smile. He understood she was teasing him, humiliating him a bit. He accepted this treatment. It was what he had signed up for. And then he noticed while he had been working on Mr. Whalen’s cock, Mrs. Whalen had removed her clothes except for a pair of black panties and matching bra. He blinked and tried not to think about his stiffening cock.

For an older woman she was in fairly good shape. Her choice of undergarments suited her body and skin tone. Dylan wanted to shift his cock inside his pants. More than that he wanted to masturbate to her image. Or fuck her while her husband watched.

“Um, thank you,” he managed to stutter out.

“We’re almost ready to get going.” She turned her attention to Bob. “Comfortable honey?” she asked him.

Mr. Whalen only nodded.

“Let’s see what we can do to solve that,” she said and picked up the flogger from the table. Without warning she lashed out with it once, twice, three times. Each blow was aimed at his cock. The slap of the flogger on the sensitive skin jarred Dylan. Bob’s cock turned bright red and it continued to grow. “Very pretty,” Mrs. Whalen said and watched her husband’s restrained manhood.

It quickly became apparent to Dylan that regardless of what Mrs. Whalen sought out at the Farm it wasn’t a big cock. While her husband wasn’t porn star huge, he was well-enough endowed. “Perfect,” Mrs. Whalen said in a small voice. “Dylan, please help me with my panties.” Her voice now commanded him. Dylan tore his eyes away from Bob’s abused cock and looked at his client.

She pointed to the waistband of her panties. Dylan went over to her, knelt down, and carefully lowered the lacy material down over her hips and thighs to her ankles. Mrs. Whalen stepped elegantly from the scrap of material. His eyes were still fixed on her feet. He couldn’t will himself to look up at her pussy until she tapped his shoulder with the flogger.

At first he though she was going to beat him with the leather straps. He was wrong. She simply handed the instrument over to him.

She then stepped back, slid onto the bed, pushed herself back, and laid down. Her knees were bent and spread open. Her pussy was oddly beautiful. It was perfectly shaven, bare and naked. Her labia were thick and reddish, already slightly open and moist with anticipation. He wondered if his opinion of her cunt was because he was horny or if he actually found her nudity attractive. He couldn’t sort out his emotions at the moment.

“Use the flogger,” she told him.

Confused Dylan looked at the object in his hand and then at Bob’s hard dick.

“No, dear,” Mrs. Whalen instructed him. “Use it on my pussy. Start of gentle. Make each stroke harder. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

“On your pussy?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes dear.”

The first few strokes he laid down at the apex of her thighs were almost gentle caresses. She glared at him but said nothing. The next strike was a firm lash and a flush of color spread over her pussy. “More,” she instructed.

Dylan did as ordered. He made the flogger flash faster and harder. She moaned and then groaned and then panted at his abused. “Harder,” she whispered.

He kept a close eye on her sore and red pussy but continued as she wished. After one particularly hard strike she yelped in pain, clamped her legs shut, her hands clamped to her abused sex, and rolled to her side. Mrs. Whalen shuddered several times and Dylan stood them dumbly, not knowing what to do. He glanced at her husband but Bob’s eyes were glazed with excitement and his cock was literally throbbing.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked her kindly.

“Yes, yes you did,” she sobbed her answer. “And it was wonderful.”

“You liked that?” he asked. It was a stupid question. Of course she liked it. She had asked for it. She had opened her legs for him and ordered the treatment. She had held herself still with her hands by her sides as he beat her.

“Fuck yes; it’s one of the best ways to make me cum.”

He hadn’t realized he had given her an orgasm. It was a strange feeling to have. He had only met her a few minutes ago and now he