Chapter 25: Farm, Morning
Fred overslept. “OH SHIT!” He awakened with a start. Looking at the clock he realized it was 9:30am, not awful but he should have thought to set his phone alarm. He never intended to leave Clair for, what, eight hours. Two glasses of wine and all the excitement of last night and he slept like a baby, he realized with some guilt. “Well,” he thought, “I need to stop thinking like Clair’s boyfriend and start thinking like her Dom.”
Fred spent several minutes in the bathroom then pulled on his blue jeans and his hiking boots. He was headed to his luggage to find a clean shirt when he passed the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The image of shirtless Fred, with dark blue jeans, a leather belt and heavy boots was... dominant looking! “I think I’ll skip the shirt, at least for a while today!” he thought. As he passed Gran and Leon’s room, he saw the tote he had left on top of the bed last night. He remembered the rather nasty looking whip coiled up on the box that Leon had referred to in his text last night as a ‘single tail’. Until seeing himself in the mirror it probably wouldn’t have occurred to him to even pick it up. Now, he was thinking how it would look with the handle shoved in his belt. He would later learn Leon made it by hand from leftover leather upholstery material because neither he nor Gran had any idea where to buy one.
Fred shoved the handle of the single tail in his belt and went back and looked in the mirror. “Damn!” he thought. Fred wasn’t ripped by a long shot, but he did work out in the college Gym a couple of times a week. He hoped his appearance didn’t cause Clair to piss her pants. “Oh wait, Clair isn’t wearing pants, or anything for that matter.” He laughed to himself, but he also remembered he was in a hurry to see how Clair had fared overnight.
Fred did stop in the kitchen long enough to start a pot of coffee and while he was preparing the coffee, he had a chance to think. How was he going to start the day? He had so many ideas, but he at least needed a plan for how to start. Well, he was going to have to clean Clair up, he wouldn’t even be able to see her lovely body though all that mud! Was he going to feed her this morning? Probably, this wasn’t her mother’s weight loss program. Fred wasn’t sure exactly what THIS was but he planned to work Clair today and so he would feed her. Fred looked around the kitchen, “Instant Oatmeal,” perfect! Fred mixed up two packets, put in extra sugar and put the bowl in the microwave.
Once the oatmeal and coffee were started, Fred grabbed the keys and headed out to the shed. On the way, as he passed the front of the barn, he had an idea. There was a rope with a block and tackle system hanging from a beam sticking out from the ridge of the barn. Fred assumed that Leon used this to lift hay bales to the loft of the barn. “Perfect,” thought Fred, “and it’s right next to the hose,” He untied the rope and lowered the block and tackle to about six feet from the ground.
Even though the sun was up over the nearby hills, the inside of the shed was pitch black. Leon’s contribution to his new wife’s chosen imprisonment was to put a threshold and weather seal around the door until no light came in at all. He then stood in the shed during the noon hour, let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and used spray foam sealant to stop every little light leak, no matter how small. The result is that someone in the shed couldn’t see their hand in front of their face on a bright sunny day. It may have been late in the morning to Fred, but Clair, who had drifted in and out all night, was still in a light sleep.
Fred opened the padlock quietly then threw open the door suddenly and shouted, “Good Morning Slut!”
The image Clair saw as she suddenly became conscious was the outline of a shirtless man, feet apart, hands on his hips, and a whip on his belt. Her first reaction was to try to scoot away from this towering figure in startled fear, but she couldn’t push herself through the cement wall she was sitting against. As her brain took control, her second reaction was to cream her pants. Oh wait, she wasn’t wearing pants, or anything except dried mud for that matter.
Before Clair could remember where she was, or how much discomfort she was in, before she could get control of her mouth, she just blurted out, “Fred? Is that you?” in a tone that said, “and where is your shirt?”
Now at this point Fred could have done or said a lot of things. He was about to say, “Silence slut!” but instead, what came out was “too much?” in a quizzical voice. The question wasn’t just about his dress code.
“Look, Clair,” Fred continued, “Last night I surprised myself, I’m not sure where that guy came from. I don’t mind fulfilling your fantasies, but I’m not sure I want to be that much of a ‘Macho Dom’ anymore.”
“Can you leave your shirt off,” Clair actually smiled, then winced, “and take these handcuffs off, my shoulders are in agony... sir.”
Fred, again, thought he understood the signs Clair was sending.
Clair flopped around as her legs limbered up, then managed to get her feet under her and stand.
“Turn around,” Fred said as he found the handcuff key on the ring.
He unlocked one of Clair’s cuffs but kept a firm grip on her wrist, a grip that said ‘behave.”
“Turn back around.” And when Clair did, he locked her wrists together in front of her.
“OK, stretch and work the kinks out.”
And stretch Clair did. She reached up, she circled her arms around, she bent at the waist and touched her toes. It felt painful as her muscles moved for the first time in hours. But it was also extremely pleasurable in a way that a good stretch always is. And Clair smiled, she had survived the night in Gran’s shed!
Fred didn’t know what Clair was thinking, but turns out he said just the right thing, “Good Girl!” Such a simple statement that carried so much meaning. Clair’s smile widened.
“I wouldn’t smile too much, Slut,” Fred said in his ‘normal’ voice, “I’m still going to work the hell out of you today! Is there anything in that bucket?”
“Yes Sir,” Clair answered, still smiling.
“Pick it up and follow me.” Fred ordered.
As she followed him across the yard, with the old piss filled bucket hugged to her chest, she couldn’t help but admire the muscles of his back. Her ordeal of the previous night was portrayed in the dried mud she was walking across, she could even see where her tits had made two furrows.
Because she was studying the ground, and looking down submissively, Clair didn’t notice the hook from the hay loft had been let down, so she didn’t have a clue when Fred told her to put the bucket down against the barn wall and then stand where he indicated. He then grabbed the handcuff chain and raised it above her head, hooking over the hook on the bottom of the pulley block. That motion surprised Clair who looked up, still not understanding what was going on. Fred then walked away but when she saw him grab the rope from just inside the barn door, she knew what to expect next.
Fred raised her hands just enough to stretch her out but not put her on tiptoe. He had noticed that her wrists were getting chaffed from the harsh steel cuffs, he would have to work on that. He then walked farther into the barn and disappeared from sight. “Well, I wonder how long he’s going to leave me standing here naked,” thought Clair but she stayed silent and just waited. In a few minutes Fred came back with a bucket of soapy water and a brush. It had to be the “Mane and Tail” horse shampoo because that was the only soap in the barn that Clair knew of. What worried her the most was the brush. That brush was made for washing horses, not girl skin.
Fred grabbed the hose from where it was looped on the barn wall, turned on the standpipe and started spraying Clair down. “SHIT, that’s cold," she said without thinking. It wasn’t quite as cold as the mountain creek water had been on their backpacking trip – but it was still COLD.
Fred just smiled and said, “Can’t let you in the house like this, if you get mud on Gran’s floors she’ll kill us both.”
Clair squealed and danced as Fred insisted she pirouette while he wet down every part of her body. A lot of the mud rinsed right off but Fred still picked up the bucket of soapy water he had prepared and dumped about half of it over Clair’s head. She sputtered and tried to keep it from getting in her eyes and mouth. It was as cold as the hose, but she didn’t dare open her mouth to protest, she might get horse soap in it.
Fred used his hands to rub the shampoo into her hair and it reminded her of the few times they had showered together after sex, but she hadn’t been shivering then. Next Fred dipped the huge brush in the bucket and started to wash Clair’s arms, her back, her front (god that brush was rough on the nipples!) and down her legs. Next came the part Clair was dreading,
“Give me your ankle,” Fred said, holding out his hand.
Clair shook her head no.
Fred reached for the whip handle still stuffed in his belt.
Clair almost kicked him, she raised her leg so fast.
“I was going to be gentile until you decided not to be a good girl,” Fred said as he took his hand away from the whip and picked up the brush.
Lifting her leg waist high and gripping it tightly, Fred started to wash Clair’s ass and crotch. He was actually pretty gentile, but he spent an awfully long time running the brush back and forth across her labia and clit. “Gotta make sure this part is extra clean, wouldn’t want you to get a yeast infection.” Clair probably would have loved it except that brush had harsh bristles that were starting to rub her raw by the time Fred stopped and dropped her ankle.
He then rinsed her off with that damn cold hose water, being very thorough especially with her breast and crotch.
“Well,” Fred announced, “I need a cup of coffee, why don’t you hang around out here and dry off.” And he walked off. “He actually walked off,” thought Clair. Well, at least the sun was starting to warm her up.
Clair had been naked since last night when Fred had ordered her to strip. Clair had been naked around Fred a lot over the last year, including her weekend in the woods with him. So, last night she hadn’t felt all that naked. While being marched and crawling across the yard she was too busy to think about being naked. In the shed it was like she was indoors. So, until now she hadn’t really FELT naked. But in the middle of the barnyard, in broad daylight, her hand stretched above her head where she couldn’t cover herself, Clair FELT naked. She turned around so she could see the driveway out to the main road and watched it nervously. People in the country didn’t bother to ask to come over, they just came. And then there were UPS and Fed-X drivers. Hell, the propane delivery guy showed up unexpectedly to fill the tank last week. Clair shivered and not just from the cold. This was different from being naked in the woods on their backpacking trip – this felt exposed, vulnerable, dangerous.
Fred, meanwhile, did fix himself a cup of coffee, checked that the instant oatmeal was done and cooling (it was almost room temperature) and went looking for something to wrap Clair’s wrists with. He found a suspiciously large amount of something called “Vet Wrap” in Gran’s bondage toys box. He would have to think about what else this stuff could be used for. Returning to the kitchen he pulled a chair up to the window where he could see both Clair and the driveway and enjoyed his coffee while she dried. Well, most of her dried. After a few minutes in the sun her body was dry, but her hair was still dripping.
After about 10 minutes, during which Fred was probably as nervous about the driveway as Clair was, he walked out, let her down, told her to pick up her piss bucket and marched her across to the kitchen door.
“Take that into the bathroom and clean it. Make sure it’s really, really, clean, you may have to eat your breakfast out of it! THEN, use a towel to dry your hair and put it up in a tight ponytail. When you’re done, come back to the kitchen. And Clair, don’t keep me waiting!”
Clair scrambled to the bathroom. Fred was being more himself since their laugh in the shed, but he was still the man that had dragged her across the mud last night. “Eat out of the piss bucket?” thought Clair, “surely he wouldn’t...“ But she was going to scrub that thing with disinfectant bathroom cleaner till it shined. When Clair did reappear in the kitchen door, she was holding the bucket in front of her.
“Where does that belong?” asked Fred.
“In the shed, sir?” Clair replied.
“While you’re out there pick up those empty water bottles, turn out the light, lock the door and run, RUN back here. Go,” said Fred pointing to the door and smiling.”
“Here I go, naked in the yard again.” thought Clair as she started running across the yard.
As she returned, seconds later, Fred admired the graceful way she ran even though, without a sports bra, her breasts were bouncing wildly up and down. He loved to watch her ponytail swish back and forth too. Watching a naked Clair run had Fred hard... again. Well, time to do something about that.
Clair came into the kitchen again, breathing hard and before she could wonder what next, Fred pointed to the floor in front of his chair.
Fred stood next to the kitchen table, unzipped, and pulled out his still hard penis. His shaft was almost poking her in the eye as he picked up the congealed instant oatmeal and a kitchen knife from the table. Fred scooped up a dollop of oatmeal on the knife and made a ridge of it down the top of his penis. He didn’t need to tell Clair how breakfast was being served; she wasn’t stupid. But she did attempt to run her lips down the top of his penis while sucking the oatmeal off. Fred held a water bottle to her lips and Clair wondered why it was black until she tasted lukewarm coffee.
“Awww,” thought Clair, “he may be humiliating me but he knows I can’t start my day without caffeine.”
After a few gulps of coffee, Fred put the bottle back on the table and spread more oatmeal on his penis.
“Now I know you have enough manners to know that’s not the right way to eat oatmeal off a dick,” Fred said while smiling down at Clair.
Yes, she knew what Fred wanted, but she had tried the easy way as Fred hadn’t given her specific directions... until now.
Clair started working from the tip back. She put a few inches of Fred’s shaft in her mouth, then raked the oatmeal off with her top lip, swallowed, then took a few more inches in her mouth. About the third time she remembered just how long Fred’s shaft was as she gagged and had to try twice to get the last bit of oatmeal near the base.
“Bastard,” thought Clair with a smile, as she watched Fred smear oatmeal including an extra glob right at the base.
About every second penis serving, Fred would stop to give Clair a few sips of coffee. He could have just handed her the bottle as her hands were still cuffed in front of her, but it was more controlling for him to hold the bottle.
Turns out it takes a while to eat two servings of instant oatmeal off a penis and more than once Clair violently gagged and was very afraid she was going to puke it all back up on the front of Fred’s blue jeans.
Fred, meanwhile, was trying to remember his picks for the Final Four tournament, his class schedule for next semester, anything but those lips sliding up and down his shaft. After the last 12 hours Fred was ready to explode and he wanted to wait till Clair finished the oatmeal. Partly to show a little mercy to Clair, who’s knees were probably killing her on the hardwood kitchen floor and who was really gagging a lot now, and partly to reduce the stimulation he was getting, Fred put the last few ‘servings’ towards the tip of his penis. Clair tried to deep throat him anyway, two could play at this game after all.
Oatmeal finished, Fred gave Clair the last of the coffee then said “time for dessert, slut” as he grabbed the back of her head and pulled towards him until his balls touched her chin. Clair barely had time to open up and try and relax her throat. Once Fred felt her gag, he pumped her head back and forth. Clair tried hard to keep her jaw open and her teeth out of the way, but it was hard to focus on anything but catching a breath on each outstroke. Clair could have tried bringing her hands up to help but she just knew that wasn’t what Fred wanted from her.
Mercifully Fred didn’t last much longer. Three strokes and Fred pumped a huge load into the back of Clair’s mouth.
Clair had never swallowed before. She had given Fred head many times, especially in the dorm where giving each other head was quieter than making the cheap dorm beds bang against the wall. But the two of them had never discussed swallowing. In fact, they hadn’t really talked about sex much at all, they just did it. And Clair had always pulled her mouth off Fred and finished him by hand.
It was over and Clair swallowed the load instinctively, as you would with anything else in your mouth. She didn’t even notice the taste and when she later thought about it, her mouth mostly tasted of coffee.
Fred had trouble standing, his legs went weak, so he simply flopped down in the kitchen chair, spent. After a minute he looked down at Clair, smiled and sighed, “Girl, you are SO good at that!”
Clair absolutely glowed inside from the praise from her man. “But what a mess you’ve made,” Fred continued looking at the drool and oatmeal remnants on his penis and on the floor, “Clean it up.”
Clair sucked Fred’s dick clean almost worshipfully, then dropped to the floor and licked that clean as well.