The FSRA

Life at the Farm

Life at the farm was hard. The slaves were workers, close to animals, kept only for the value of their labor. Food, shelter, and other necessities were provided, though only to the extent necessary to optimize the work output.

As hard as we worked, in fields, roads, or whatever the current job, the slaves were always hot, sweaty and getting very dirty. Once a week we were provided a shower. For this ritual, the entire stable entered the shower room (there were many barns on the Farm, each one had its own facilities). The shower room was a small concrete cube, just large enough for the slaves to squeeze in all at once. We would stand, naked bodies pressing against each other in the stifling heat of the room, sweat mixing with the three or four others that stood next to you. Suddenly, sprinklers were turned on above, showering the room with an even flow of water. All of us would welcome the water, drinking it, moving around trying to get it to cover our entire bodies, washing the filth of the week off. It took about 5 minutes, after which we were removed. The weekly shower time was one of the few pleasant experiences at the Farm.

Unlike the weekly shower time, slaves were sometimes selected for a thorough cleaning. The first time this happened to me, it came as a shock. The handlers identified me, and roughly indicated I was to be cleaned. #11 looked at me with pity which I did not understand, until later.

I was taken to the far side of the Farm, where there were a series of posts sticking up from the ground about 15 feet high. My wrists were fastened to ropes as I was positioned between two of the posts, and then both ropes were run through pulleys, lifting first my arms, and then my entire body in the air, until I was hanging several feet above the ground, legs dangling, arms stretched up and out toward the pulleys on the poles on either side. My ankles were fastened to additional ropes and tied off, spread wide. I was spread eagled, suspended by my arms up in the air, my entire body exposed.

The main handler for my stable, the shapely but plain looking woman, approached with two hoses. Nozzles on each held the water pressure back. She pointed one of the nozzles at me, pressed the release handle, and a hard stream of ice cold water hit me square in the chest. The shock made me suck in a lungful of air.

The handler ran the high pressure water stream over my body. Suddenly, the cold water turned hot, and the scalding difference in temperature made me scream. The high pressure hot water was sprayed over my body, and between my legs, where it settled on my scrotum and testicles. The pounding pressure felt like I was being beaten with a club, and I screamed again, the pain from my abused genitalia quickly spreading across my hips. I struggled what little I could, and in a moment the water suddenly turned ice cold again. The massive temperature change was agonizing, and my yells and pleas for mercy began to stream continuously. In response the ice cold water was directed toward my face, where the high pressure forced it up my nose, and in to my mouth, where it filled my sinuses, throat, and began to make its way to my lungs. I choked, coughed, gasped, each gasp taking in more water.

I was drowning, suspended in the air high above the ground.

At last the water moved away from my head. Several more temperature changes lashed at my body, and the high pressure water stream made its way up my anus, giving me an impromptu enema.

The whole cleaning experience must not have taken more the 20 minutes, but when I was finally lowered to the ground, I was shaking and sobbing, unable to move. I was dumped in a wheelbarrow, and delivered back to my stall, where #11 was waiting for me.

Benevolence on the part of the Farm handlers was frequent, and frequently a painful, humiliating experience.

The slaves had needs, and while many of the needs could be ignored, work was better when some needs were fulfilled. One day I was selected to fulfill one of the needs which diverted many of the male slaves from work, and even caused some fights when not properly met.

My handler entered my stall one morning, unhooked me from where I was chained, and led me out to one of the large corrals used as a holding pen for the slaves before or after work. In the center was a wooden saw horse, a simple 2x4 with two legs descending in a V shape from each end. The handler forced a ring gag in to my mouth, and then jerked my slave collar down until I was laying on the thin board lengthwise. My arms were secured to two of the legs at the front, tight straps securing my wrists and upper arms near my shoulders. My legs were tied securely to the saw horse legs at the rear at the ankles and thighs. My head hung slightly over the front of the saw horse, partially supported under the chin by the end of the horizontal beam, and my buttocks and genitalia hung out just past the other end.

As a number of slaves were allowed in to the corral, the handler applied a good amount of slimy lube to my anus. Once thoroughly lubed, something metal was inserted, painfully, and thrust in deeply. Much to my dismay, it was a speculum, which was slowly opened, widening my anal opening, stretching the muscles. After a few minutes of having my anus stretched open, the speculum was removed, and the handler left the corral. I lay on my stomach, waiting, not knowing what to expect.

After the handler left, several of the male slaves approached. They all had huge erections; this was not an uncommon sight, though it was unusual that all of them were erect at once. It soon became clear why, as they pushed and shoved each other to reach me first. A penis was shoved in to my anus, penetrating suddenly, deeply, and somewhat painfully. I realized I was grateful for the lube that had been applied, as I felt the hard flesh begin stroking and pushing deep inside me.

Just as I realized what was happening behind me, another male slave pushed in front of me, and placed his erection inside my yawning wide mouth, held open by the ring gag. He tasted dirty, salty and bitter. It shoved in, deep, all the way to my throat, and I gagged. I could feel the shape of the penis, the ridges of skin, its hardness as it pressed against the back of my throat. In and out it was thrust, each inward stroke causing me to gag more and more. Eventually, some slime from deep in my belly came up, but it only added to the lubrication just before the slave ejaculated. I felt his penis contract in my mouth, and the strange taste and sensation of the semen flooding out.

The ring gag prevented me from swallowing, so the semen simply remained in my mouth and slowly dripped out over my lips as the next slave positioned himself in front of me. As he entered my mouth, the slave behind climaxed noisily, pressing in deeply, and then pulling out, satiated for the moment. Another slave took his place.

This continued for some time. I was never without something filling me from both ends. Struggling was no use, I was secured tightly on the saw horse, which jabbed uncomfortable along my stomach and chest.

The third slave to enter me from behind was most aggressive, but also reached around and grabbed my erect penis, stroking it to the same rhythm as his penetrations. In moments, I was climaxing myself, and burst out with a huge orgasm. My semen dropped to the dirt below me, forming a small pool, as I continued to be degraded from both ends.

As much humilation and degredation as I had experienced in the recent months, perhaps years... this was still a humiliation to me. Being used in this way made me groan, grunt and cry out. Even when I was pleasured and had my own orgasm, it seemed a tremendous violation as it wasn't really my choice, it was being done to me as part of this mass gang rape. I felt like meat, and in a way it helped to feel like meat, for meat has no emotion, no humiliation.

This went on for the entire day, though it slowed in the late afternoon. My anus and mouth were sore and hurting, my legs crusted with dried semen which had drained from my anus. A large pool had formed below me where my own semen had mixed with that of other slaves which had dripped down, across my scrotum and to the ground.

When I was finally released and returned to my stall, I simply lay there on the straw, unmoving, unable to eat. It was only a sharp shock from the anal shock ring that got me to move and back to work the next day.

Punishment at the farm was swift and painful. There was basically one rule - obey the handlers and don't piss them off. Light punishment was the kiss of the whip. Occassionally, the anal shock ring was activated, causing horrible pain and convulsions which would knock me to the ground for minutes at a time. For more serious infractions, more onerous punishments could be used.

On one occassion after I had disobeyed a handler and taken a drink of water, and even had the audacity to splash the water over my hot sweaty body, I was treated to a common punishment for those who needed to be made an example. After work for the day was completed, I was taken to the center aisle of the barn, between the stalls and shoved down to the ground. My ankles were placed in a metal leg spreader, about four feet apart, wide enough to be painful. The handler pushed me over, bending me at the waist and inserted my wrists in to metal cuffs on the bar next to my ankles. I sat on the ground, bent over severely, arms and legs spread wide and secured.

The two female handlers that managed my barn then attached the metal spreader bar to a chain which hung from the ceiling of the barn. Slowly but surely, the chain was raised in to the air, pulling the bar with it, and eventually my body. I was hung upside down, my legs and arms fastened together on the hard metal spreader, suspended about 6 feet from the ground. There was a tremendous strain on my back and shoulders, as well as the back of my legs. The metal loops in which my ankles and wrists were secured dug painfully in to my skin. My head flopped back, with nothing to support it in my folded position.

Hanging there, I felt a wave of humiliation flood over me. I was on display, legs spread, in pain, there for all to see.

There I stayed... all night, until the next morning the slaves were released from their stalls and walked under me to work in the fields. I had not slept, something that was impossible to do in an inverted position with muscle cramps wracking my body. While they herded the slaves out for work, the handlers would jump as they passed under me, reaching and slapping my exposed testicles, adding to my pain.

The day passed, and I hung there, unable to move, slowly swinging back and forth in my suspension. In the evening, when the slaves returned, there was a comotion below me, and in a moment another chain began raising a female slave to join me in my tortuous punishment. As she reached my height, I recognized #36, an especially tall blonde that was an extremely muscular, good worker. I wondered what she had done to be punished in this way.

As she hung next to me, I tried to talk to her. Initially, she spoke with me, and it was a time when in spite of the pain we were both in, I learned much.

She explained that she had been sent to the farm as a slave because she had signed up for the FSRA II, a new bill that superseded the original legislation. Imprisoned for defending herself with a gun when someone broke in to her house and tried to rape her, she had tried to reduce her 20 year sentence by volunteering for the farm. During my second long night hanging from the ceiling, watching blood trickle down from my shredded wrists and ankles, I also learned that the FSRA II had a clause which allowed recalcitrant insane prisoners to be bound over to permanent slavery to pay for their imprisonment.

My heart sunk, as I realized what had happened. Once in the FSRA system, I had been wedged and prodded until I was driven insane, and then classified and committed as a slave. There was no hope of being released, ever. This was my life, dangling, slowly turning in circles, suspended from the ceiling by a chain while the handlers took liberties with my body.

After 48 hours of suspension, I was brought down, though #36 remained suspended for another two days. I saw her each day as we went to work, her anus and genital area on display for all to see. Blood had streamed down her arms and legs, and she no longer had the strength to keep her head up. My own ankles and wrists took a couple of weeks to heal from the two day ordeal, and my muscles were sore and weak for several days.

I changed a little after my time of mutual torture with #36, in subtle ways. Knowing I had no hope changed me a little. I bided my time, not knowing what to do, until one day, I acted. I acted swiftly, decisively, and as it turned out, foolishly.