Golden Angel 3 - Slave Farm

An eBook By Claire Thompson.

Laura looked down at her left breast, upon which a henna tattoo of the number five had been prominently placed. She was not unique in this regard, as the four other women huddled in the cramped stall with her also had the same single digit, in bright orange, on their bare breasts.

When she’d been first delivered to the farm about an hour before, a silent burly man dressed only in cut-off denim shorts had stenciled the semi-permanent tattoo on her body after pointing to the ground to indicate she should kneel at attention. She noticed as he worked on her that the man had a stenciled tattoo of his own, of the number two.

When he finished, the man reached out to touch her nipples, which still sported the little gold hoops Mistress Melinda had placed there after Laura’s forced piercing. He’d pulled hard, making her wince, though her training kept her still and quiet, aware she might be punished for any sign of resistance. Apparently satisfied, he’d released her, finally speaking. "Lift your hair off your neck."

Laura gathered her long golden blonde hair in her hands, piling it on her head as he moved behind her to buckle a narrow, black slave collar around her throat. He produced cuffs for her ankles and wrists as well, locking them in place with sturdy silver padlocks. She was hustled into what must have been an old horse stall, with only the words, "The overseer will be by later."

The horse stall had a dirt floor covered in fresh hay. The four women, sitting naked, marked and cuffed in the same manner as she was, looked up at her without speaking as the man left the stables, bolting the stall door behind him. Though the still-pungent smell of ancient horse dung lingered in the air, Laura inhaled deeply, savoring the light summer wind that blew through the open slats of the stall’s glassless window. She hadn’t been permitted outside since her abduction in the spring, though she hadn’t realized until that moment just how much she missed the fresh air and the warmth of the sun on her face.

The four women sat mutely regarding her from their various corners. They were all in their early to mid twenties, she guessed. Like her, they all had long hair, two of them blonde, one brunette and one with a red mass of curls around her pale pretty face. They all had lovely bodies, with high round breasts, their shapely legs crossed on the hay as they leaned against the unpainted wooden walls, which were grayed with age and weather. Their pussies, like Laura’s, were shaven bare. None of them seemed the least self-conscious of their nudity. Indeed, Laura wasn’t either, as she’d been kept naked for months on end, displayed in every possible way to the eyes and probing hands, mouths, cocks, whips and canes of her abductors.

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