Chapter 30: The Farm Part 2

The men unclasped the manacles from Isabella’s wrists and ankles, her body slumping off the bench in a heap of trembling limbs and smeared blood, her sobs muffled against the dirt. She curled into herself, naked and broken, the silver cross necklace tangled in her sweat-damp hair, but no one spared her more than a glance. I stepped forward without a word, my heart pounding in a twisted rhythm of dread and resolve, and climbed onto the bench myself, lying back against the rough wood that still bore the warmth of her struggle. My tanned skin prickled in the night air, the ‘Public Cum Dump’ tattoo across my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, my large nipple piercings glinting under the firelight as I spread my legs wide, exposing the pierced flesh tunnels in my labia and the clitoral hood ring that throbbed with anticipation.

The men worked quickly, attaching crude wooden extenders to the bench legs, hoisting the whole structure higher until it hovered at the right height to take horse cock. My body elevated perfectly now, my lasered smooth pussy angled upward, ready for the unthinkable. ‘Please,’ I whispered, my forked tongue flicking over my pierced lips, voice hoarse from disuse but steady, ‘let me taste it first.’

Diego threw his head back and laughed, a rich, booming sound that echoed through the camp, his dark eyes sparkling with cruel amusement as he sat astride his massive black stallion. ‘Carlos, where did you get this one?’ he called out, reining in the horse with effortless control.

Carlos grinned, wiping his hands on his jeans, the scent of Isabella’s violation still clinging to him. ‘Picked her up in Miami,’ he replied, his tone laced with pride, like he’d unearthed a rare gem from the gutter.

‘I want to watch,’ Diego declared, swinging down from the saddle with the grace of a predator, his boots thudding into the earth. One of his men hurried forward, taking the reins of Darkie—the horse’s name slithered into my mind like a curse—and led him into position. They maneuvered the beast carefully over me, his massive hooves stamping the ground on either side of the bench, his underbelly looming like a shadowed vault. Darkie’s cock dangled heavy and immense right at my head, already half-unsheathed from the sheath, pink and mottled with veins that pulsed like rivers under the skin.

I reached up with both hands, my fingers wrapping around the girth—thicker than my forearm, easily twice as long even in this state, the flared head broad and flat, veined and muscular, a terrifying weapon of flesh that made my stomach twist even as a forbidden thrill coiled in my core. I pulled it closer, my tongue darting out to lick along the underside, tasting the musky salt of horse skin, warm and alive against my forked tongue. I slid the shaft between my enhanced breasts, the implants pressing together to cradle it, and lapped at the tip while my hands pumped rhythmically, stroking the length until pre-cum beaded and slicked my skin. Confidence bloomed strangely within me, a dark flower unfurling amid the horror, my pussy growing slick and aching, juices dripping down my thighs as I worked him harder, coating the cock until it gleamed glossy under the campfire glow.

Satisfied, the men turned Darkie around with grunts and pulls on the reins, positioning his hindquarters toward me. His cock, now fully erect and rigid, bumped heavily against my pussy, the weight of it thumping across my belly like a felled log—from the heavy balls slapping my ass to the flared tip reaching up to brush my breasts. The men murmured in awe and doubt, voices rough with beer and smoke. ‘How the fuck is she going to fit that thing?’

I glanced sideways and caught Isabella’s wide eyes fixed on me, her baby face pale and streaked with tears, her full lips moving in a silent prayer, rosary beads clutched in her fist as if invoking saints to intervene in this blasphemy. But there was no salvation here, only the deepening night and the scent of hay and animal musk thickening the air.

I guided Darkie’s cock to my entrance, the heat of it searing against my folds. Grabbing the three flesh tunnels on each labia with my fingers, I pulled myself open wide, stretching the pierced skin taut, exposing the pink depths within. With a sudden, instinctive thrust from the horse, the flared head breached me, forcing its way in with a burning stretch that made stars explode behind my eyes. I gasped, nearly blacking out, the intrusion so vast it felt like my hips would shatter. His powerful shove nearly launched me off the bench, the wood scraping my back, but Miguel dropped to his knees between Darkie’s legs, his hands firm on my shoulders, holding me steady as sweat beaded on his brow.

I looked down, vision blurring, and saw the impossible: half the cock had vanished into my pussy, the veined shaft disappearing into my stretched hole, the flare already nudging insistently against my cervix like a battering ram. Darkie pumped again, relentless, his hips bucking in animal rhythm, and another man rushed up to brace my thighs, providing counterforce to keep me pinned as the bench rocked beneath us. I felt like I was splitting in half, my insides rearranging around the invading mass, every thrust sending shockwaves through my core. So full, so impossibly stuffed with horse cock—I was sure I would die impaled like this, my body a ruined vessel for his pleasure.