Anna’s Story - A Slave’s Journal Entry 14 (part 1/2)

[Danicali299]

You know the drill. Dark shit, slavery, slaves getting milked, and pregnant women. This one is a fun one.

Thank you Zee, CarlBradford, Eroticstoryspinner, Avicia, and Mister Smith for your editing and input. This one was hard for me to do good and you guys helped me polish it into something better.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In my head, the morning we left for Texas felt like that scene from Home Alone where the whole family scrambles to get ready to go to the airport. In reality, it was mostly just me rushing to get pieces of luggage that weighed almost as much as me loaded up in the car while Edna got everyone fed and packed lunchboxes of snacks for the road. I would’ve appreciated her help, but since she had to take care of her husband, I got to go to Texas instead and that made her a bit mad that she missed her chance to see her son for the first time in a few years.

His name was Martin, and he was a little older than me. Since there were already enough kids in the house when he was born, Miss O’Connor sent him away to be raised at her brother Ethan’s ranch instead. The boy loved it there, and Edna and Earl always looked so proud when they heard him tell them about his work whenever Miss O’Connor set up a call with him. After those calls though, they didn’t talk about him much. Especially Edna. One day, Earl even told me that he thought her hatred of me was because of Martin. More specifically how she got her infant son sent away, just so she could see the woman who did it bring some “ghetto trash” with a sob story into her home almost 20 years later and immediately treat her like a “second daughter”.

I didn’t agree with how she felt, but I understood. It must’ve been insulting to see how Miss O’Connor treated me at first when her own son was denied that same opportunity. Still, 20 years is a long time to hold a grudge and her son was very successful for a slave. Honestly, she needed to get over it and realize that treating me like shit wouldn’t magically put a baby in her arms and take away all the pain she had from that.

After breakfast, we were finally on the road. It was a long drive, but thanks to me, Jessica, and Miss O’Connor switching every few hours we were making surprisingly good time on our trip. It was odd when we started getting into the deep south, though. I was used to the “friendly” type of slavery you saw in the major cities in the northeast. The slaves always seemed well taken care of, and even the lowliest manual labor slave was at least decently fed and given a full outfit to work in. Overall, being a slave still sucked, but in a state like Pennsylvania they at least had protections that kept our masters from horrifically abusing us. For example, if Miss O’Connor decided to beat me with a whip until I died, she would get into serious trouble and lose her right to own a slave. The government had slave prisons that could punish us like that without killing us and hated when individual owners took matters into their own hands instead of calling the cops to take us away.

In contrast, once in the South we kept passing fields full of slaves working barefoot in chains wearing what usually amounted to a pair of rough pants for the men, and a rough skirt for the women. Some of them had tops, while others were just topless and didn’t seem to care as they worked these fields full of fruits and vegetables. I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently half of the vegetables I routinely bought at the store still had to be picked by slaves in 2022. I guess it was somehow cheaper than inventing a machine that could pick some of this stuff without damaging it. I could even see how beaten down and dirty these men and women were as a chain gang was being led past the parking lot of the rest area we stopped at. One woman that caught my eye even had fresh whip marks covering what looked like years worth of scars on her sunburned back as her nearly naked body shambled by wearing what looked like a homemade skirt that barely made it halfway to her knees. This was the slavery I avoided, and I was just standing there quietly praying for them as they passed by. Miss O’Connor saw my reaction to these slaves as she walked out of the restroom and said while squeezing my shoulder, “This is where I’m from Anna. You have no idea how good you have it back home. And no matter how many times I’ll tell you this, you won't believe me until it’s too late and you're in their chains. Please don’t end up like those people”.

Her words were sobering as I got back into the driver’s seat and pulled back onto the highway. I questioned why all these farm slaves I saw looked so ragged, and Miss O’Connor responded, “Slaves on farms down here don’t get new clothes that often. One of our neighbors growing up in Texas even made his slaves make their own clothes out of sacks to save money” she then sighed and said, “It’s just different down here Anna, you wouldn’t understand unless you grew up here”.

Once we crossed the state line into Texas, I asked Miss O’Connor what made her brother so rich. She said with not-so-subtle judgment in her voice, “He runs a breeding farm where slaves have rich assholes’ babies so they don’t have to deal with the shit that goes along with pregnancy. The polite word for it is surrogate service, but it's still just another slave farm if you ask me. It’s honestly pathetic that able-bodied people are too lazy to even give birth to their own children”. I didn’t understand the concept of breeding slaves and told her that I thought those places were illegal but Jessica interjected and said, “Illegal in Pennsylvania, here in Texas they’re legal for what he does with them”.

I already knew that breeding slaves to make more slaves commercially had been banned since the 1950s due to it being too inhumane, but surprisingly using slaves as a surrogate was still legal. After we switched drivers again, Jessica even showed me Ethan’s website for his “surrogate service”. It didn’t include any pictures of the slaves, or where they were kept, but it did show these beautiful medical offices where the slaves were treated by friendly-looking doctors who were supposedly on staff 24/7. Ethan even offered services for same-sex couples who wanted a child. For lesbians, he contracted out to a large sperm bank, and for gay couples, these guys were able to pick any available slave they wanted for insemination. The only mention of how his slaves were treated was on a single page where he advertised that his slaves were given a nutritious diet, spacious quarters, and stimulating work keeping them active every day. It actually sounded pretty ok for the slaves, who at first glance only had to carry a baby and do whatever “light work” was suitable for a pregnant woman. Miss O’Connor heard Jessica reading the site out loud and scoffed, “I’ll believe it when I see it”.

It took until around sundown the next day to reach our destination and the ranch was every bit as grand as Miss O’Connor described as we pulled up to a “ranch house” that was twice as big as Miss O’Connor’s. This place had three floors, an indoor pool, and even a massive greenhouse that I could see multiple people going in and out of. Then as soon as I got out of the car the smell hit me. I had never smelled a ranch before and was told this was supposed to be good air, but I was a city girl and I was just overwhelmed by it all. Everyone else saw how I was reacting and found it funny, but I had never left the city before this, and I didn’t know how to react to all the sights and smells surrounding me. I never even saw a cow in person before that. Then Ethan Walsh, Miss O’Connor’s older brother, loudly greeted the family as he walked toward us.

I immediately put my eyes to the ground and got behind everyone like I was warned to do before I got here as I heard this man hugging his sister and welcoming them all to his ranch. Then, he approached me and lifted up my head by the chin enough to meet his eyes and said sternly, “Listen here, college girl. My sister may give you a long leash, but here you need to remember you’re a slave and act like it. Do you understand?”. I nodded while he still had his hand on my face and after a second or two he let go and walked back over to the family and led them off to go see their rooms. I on the other hand was to wait for a couple of house slaves to come out and help me get the luggage inside.

While I was waiting, I got to stew a little about how Miss O’Connor’s brother greeted me. I already dealt with him at Thanksgiving dinner, and he was an asshole there too. As soon as Jessica mentioned the scholarship I got before I was enslaved, he laughed and said, “Keep a close eye on her Jessica. the smarter the slave, the more trouble they are to deal with. Your mother would’ve been better off buying one of mine. At least they’re raised to know their place from the start”. I still didn’t know why he called me “college girl”, but I figured it was just an attempt at an insult to be honest. This man just oozed arrogance, and judging by the other slaves I saw on the way here, it was just how they did things down there. Then, as I was staring off into the distance watching some horses run, a couple of Master Walsh’s house slaves interrupted my peace and started helping me get the luggage out of the car.

It was just as heavy getting it out of the car, but I was happy I had help this time as we carried it into the house. Like Miss O’Connor’s house, I had to take my shoes off, but I could clearly see that I was the only house slave here who even seemed to own shoes that needed to be taken off. Then as I brought Jessica’s luggage into her room, I was floored by how beautiful the view of the ranch from her balcony was. I couldn’t enjoy the view very long however, as one of the house slaves helping me quickly shooed me away from the balcony and led me out of the house to a small building where the ranch’s slaves lived.

It was cramped, hot, and felt like I was in the warehouse again, but I had a bunk on one of the beds, and at least and there was a small bathroom on the end with a bunch of toilets and showers for the slaves. The slave escorting me seemed nice, and despite her lack of makeup, she was naturally pretty with her tan skin and jet-black hair. When I tried asking her a question though, she snapped, “You don’t ask questions in the house. You don’t joke in the house. You are a slave in the house or Master Walsh gets mad. Now I have work to do and you need to get back to your mistress”.

It was a pain finding Jessica, but I caught up with them while they were in the dining room eating dinner with Master Walsh and immediately put on my best slave act for them. Then Miss O’Connor looked at me and said, “Anna, go get your bag from the barracks and put it in Jessica’s room. I saw what that place looked like and I don’t need you sleeping someplace that dirty”.

Before I could leave, however, Master Walsh objected and Miss O’Connor snapped back, “My slave cannot serve me when she’s locked in your slave barracks all night. I want her in my room or Jessica’s room so she can provide us the “personal” services we expect out of her every night”. Master Walsh backed off, but as I was running off to get my bag I could hear him tell Miss O’Connor how spoiled I was and how I needed to experience some hardship to be a good slave. If this man only knew or cared where I came from, he wouldn’t have said that.

It was nice going from a rough slave bed to sleeping with Jessica all night, and it was even better sleeping somewhere with air conditioning. Per Miss O’Connor’s request, I was even supposed to be able to eat better food since she thought the stew that the slaves were eating that night wasn’t fit for human consumption. I appreciated her concern, but I also knew that her demands would come back to bite me in the ass somehow and she was too busy being petty with her brother to realize it.

I was proven correct the next morning when Master Walsh invited us all on a tour of his breeding operation. He knew that Miss O’Connor hated what he did, and he knew I would be forced to go with Jessica and see whatever terrible things were behind the curtain. Miss O’Connor was outplayed by her own brother, and for once I saw it coming before she did. Then as we were about to finish breakfast and leave for the “surrogate service”, Miss O’Connor sprung it on me.

Apparently, while I was grabbing my bag the previous night, Master Walsh convinced Miss O’Connor to have me stay with the slaves at the breeding operation for a few days to show me how good I had it with her. They had already picked out a cover story and everything. They were going to tell the staff there that I tried running away from Miss O’Connor and I was sold to the breeding operation for a year or two as a punishment. Jessica went to bat for me, but Miss O’Connor stopped her and reassuringly said to her, “I do spoil Anna, and I love spoiling her because she works so hard for us. But, even you have to admit that a little perspective on how the other half lives would be good for her. It’s only a few days, and after that, she gets to enjoy the rest of the vacation with us”. Master Walsh rudely interjected and said, “And it will show her what will happen if she ever hurts you or runs away”.

By this point, I was on my knees in tears begging her not to do this. I offered to give up my room, my nice clothes, and even my tablet but Miss O’Connor wasn’t having it and damn near lifted me to my feet by my hair. Miss O’Connor then took me into the other room and quietly said while holding my shoulders, “You’ll be fine, Anna. All you have to do is spend a few days with some sad pregnant women, do a little work, and act like it was the worst thing ever. I highly doubt that my brother’s people are gonna abuse what they think is a pregnant woman when their business is literally making healthy babies. After that, my asshole brother promised he will leave you alone and let you enjoy the ranch with the rest of us as long as you stay within my rules. And honestly, a little perspective will be good for you and make you lose that superiority complex house slaves get after a while”.

At that point, I wanted to strangle her for signing me up for this, but I knew better and followed her lead as we made our way to the trucks that were taking all of us over to the facility. Then when we got there, Miss O’Connor changed her tune and started treating me like a runaway as soon as we saw the place. I guess she was as committed to the bit as I was supposed to be. They had already changed me into a dirty maid’s dress, taken away my shoes, and put shackles and handcuffs on me at the house, but the shock of this shit happening had me freaked out as we pulled past a sign saying “Miracle Farms Surrogates & Insemination” and arrived at the facility.

The facility itself looked clean and well-kept on the outside, with a fence enclosing four large white concrete buildings sporting red roofs. I could see a few slaves moving around here and there outside, but for all intents and purposes, this place seemed to have everything behind a locked door. Then the tour started, and I got to find out where I was staying for the next few days.

First, we were taken through the building where the non-pregnant slaves were kept. There was a hallway made of metal bars in the middle, with a few rows of sleeping areas on each side. From what I could see, everything looked clean and well maintained, and the slaves who weren’t carrying even got to sleep in these dormitories containing two beds that were divided by a short wall separating each set of beds. It was still all concrete, but it was painted to look nice at least. If the other barracks were also this well-kept, I guess I could handle a few days here.

By this point, I was having trouble walking with the shackles on, and Miss O’Connor had forbidden Michael or Jessica from helping me. So every few steps I was stumbling a little as the chain dragged on the floor. Luckily after the tenth time, I almost tripped over my own feet, I was able to get into the rhythm of it as we left the “milk barracks” and entered something called the milking parlor.

When I saw the slaves in there, it took me by surprise and I couldn’t stop staring at them while Miss O’Connor was asking a million questions about their care. They were all topless with their hands bound behind their back, and bent over this metal frame that left their breasts just dangling underneath them with their shock collars hooked to the front of the frame so they couldn’t move very much. To be honest, these weren’t even regular tits, they were udders that made my back hurt just looking at them. Then, hooked to each one of these women, was a set of breast pumps. They didn’t look like the nice ones you bought at the store though. These things were loud, long, and looked very uncomfortable at best and painful at worst.

Michael noticed the slaves too, and Master Walsh even invited him to go feel some of them if he wanted to. I could see the look on their faces as this 19-year-old boy was just going down the line feeling up a few of these poor women as they were being milked like cows. They weren’t in distress, but I could just tell by the look in their eyes how empty they were in a place like this. I couldn’t imagine spending any length of time like that. Especially With their only view being the slave in front of them and the loud rhythm of the milking machine drowning out their quiet moans of discomfort so nobody could hear their suffering. After a minute, Miss O’Connor scolded him to stop groping the slaves and asked her brother, “What do you do with all the milk you get? Is it donated or something?”.

Master Walsh laughed and replied, “Donate breast milk? Hell, no. My wife read about some hippie-dippie shit where they infused breast milk into lotions and cosmetics. People pay good money for the stuff, and we even keep the breeders busy making it in the workshop”. So that was the “stimulating work” he advertised; making overpriced lotion and face cream all day in what I assumed was a hot and dirty workshop.

Before we left to go see the workshop Miss O’Connor and Jessica went down the line of slaves being milked as well. Jessica looked horrified at how these women were treated and was even petting a few of these women’s heads as she walked down the line and quietly said, “You poor things, I couldn’t imagine living like this and spending half my life here”. I could see from where I was standing that one of the slaves Jessica was petting even perked up a bit and let out a few tears when her messy hair was tussled. I didn’t know the day to day details of how these women were treated, but seeing that slave’s reaction hinted to me that underneath all the fresh paint and relatively nice accommodations this was a dark place to be a slave in.

Then Miss O’Connor got an idea and unbuttoned the top of my dress and had me bend over one of the empty frames in the same position the other slaves were in. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in but considering how big some of the other tits around me were, I could understand how this would feel better than being upright for this type of thing. Then, she had Master Walsh hook me up to the milking system with one of the special cups they apparently used when the there wasn’t enough nipple to work with. I could feel this thing cupping the entire front of each breast as he held each one and pressed this thing into my skin before audibly turning a valve that started this thing up.

I immediately felt the suction stretching my nipples as, predictably, nothing came out. This shit was actually painful, and I had no idea how these other slaves were just standing there and quietly taking it like it was no big deal as every pump had me whimpering. I had no idea what other surprises were in store for me, but I already didn’t like how this one was playing out and the only thing keeping me from ripping this thing off of my tits myself was the fact that my hands were still cuffed behind my back. Luckily after a minute or two of this Master Walsh took the pump off of me so I didn’t accidentally get a little blood into his milk supply. Still, my nipples were sore as Master Walsh roughly buttoned up my dress before we made our way to see the workshop.

Surprisingly, the workshop wasn’t dirty at all. It was even climate controlled due to the nature of the product being made in there. I also got to see who was working in this factory. Pregnant slaves wearing brown scrubs, an apron, and a shock collar. Like the slaves in the milking parlor, these slaves had that empty look in their eyes. At the same time though, they seemed to be laser-focused on their tasks as they silently worked their stations. This workshop boasted “handmade” cosmetics, and all over the building there were slaves mixing, packing, and labeling these products. It didn’t look like difficult work compared to what I was used to, with each slave only doing a single task. However, it still looked like a monotonous job to do for a few days, let alone years. Master Walsh even grabbed a few jars off of the shipping line and gave them to Jessica to take with her like it was a souvenir or something. I was hoping that it wouldn’t affect that poor slave’s quota if she had one, but unfortunately, getting punished for things outside of your control comes with the territory when you’re a slave.

Using my knowledge of this place so far, I was already making a survival plan in my head to endure a few days in this place as Master Walsh led us to the operation’s real money maker, the breeding facility. The medical offices in the front were just as described in the picture, and you could see how obsessively clean this area was right down to the fake plants and ceiling tiles being dust free. Miss O’Connor and Jessica even got to watch a slave get an IVF treatment while I was led off by a nurse to get cleaned up for some reason. It was nice getting my shackles and handcuffs off, but it sucked stripping down in front of this strange woman and taking a cold shower right in front of her. Luckily I got a towel and was given ample time to dry off before this woman locked one of those shock collars around my neck.

It wasn’t too tight, but if I moved my head a certain way I could feel the prongs poke into my neck. While I was there I had to learn how to wear this quickly so I could sleep and meditate through my time here and get back to enjoying my “Christmas vacation”. Then I was led naked into one of the exam rooms where Miss O’Connor, Jessica, and a Doctor were waiting for me. This was humiliating, to say the least, but luckily Michael was getting bored watching medical stuff only Miss O’Connor and Jessica were into and left with his uncle while Master Walsh was jovially saying to him, “Come on Michael, let's go pick you out one of the ladies in the back. It’s a little weird banging a breeder at first, but for some reason, they’re the best pussy you’ll ever get”. I felt awkward and exposed standing in front of all those like that, but apparently it wasn’t time to be ashamed, it was time for me to get on the table.

The nurse wasn’t rough with me, but she was quick and firm in her motions as she silently laid me down and clipped the back of my collar to something on the table. Then, like in the warehouse, a couple of straps were tightened over my torso so I couldn’t squirm when my feet were strapped into the stirrups. By this point I was almost completely immobilized and only able to stare up at the ceiling as I heard the doctor ask Miss O’Connor, “Ma’am, are you sure you want to do this? You can back out right now and the company will not penalize you”. Miss O’Connor responded, “The little bitch tried to run away. She’s gonna do this a couple of times, and maybe if I’m in a forgiving mood I’ll let her come back home if she’s learned her lesson”. I had no idea what was going on, but I assumed it was her playing her part and I played mine by begging her for forgiveness and mercy.

Then I heard a click and felt a small jolt on my neck, the doctor just used the shock collar on me. Then the doctor stood over me and said condescendingly, “Listen here, slave. You made a mistake and now you’re paying for it. Your old owner called you Anna. Here your name is the last three characters of your slave ID, 27S, do you understand?”. Sensing that this woman meant business, I quickly nodded and intently listened as she said just as condescendingly, “Now, we’re going do a little exam and get you nice and pregnant. All you have to do is relax and do what you are told so this procedure gets done right”.
I had no idea what was happening now and squirmed as this woman was rooting around inside of me and preparing me for whatever insemination was. After she gave me another warning shock, I got the hint and did my best to stay still for her even though I just wanted this to end already. While this was happening, Miss O’Connor and Jessica were standing there watching what the doctor was doing in detail while she explained what was going on to Jessica. I was hoping that whatever OB-GYN type of shit she was learning was worth traumatizing her slave over.

I did learn some things as she examined me though. First, I apparently had a uterus that the doctor described as the “perfect vessel”. Second, my hormone levels were perfect for insemination and it was almost guaranteed that the sperm would take. Luckily I was on birth control and didn’t need to worry about that sperm beyond the mess coming out of me and the discomfort of the tube as it was inserted deep inside of me. Honestly, it didn’t even hurt. It just felt weird as I could feel the semen being squirted deep inside me with the syringe. Then after the doctor was done with the syringe and cleaning up her mess she remarked to Miss O’Connor, “I’m glad the slave was already ovulating, otherwise I would’ve had to wait a few weeks to do this”.

I could tell by Miss O’Connor’s reaction that this wasn’t part of the act, and she sounded surprised while she exclaimed, “Did you say ovulating? That isn’t supposed to happen, she’s on birth control. I had it given to her when I bought her from Mercer a few months ago”. The doctor gave her a confused look and said, “You and your brother told us she ran away from you, and spending time here was her punishment. We did exactly what you asked and I have no idea why you’re upset right now. Furthermore, I have no idea why you wanted me to inseminate someone who you thought was on birth control. I just wasted two ounces of perfectly good sperm from the bank for no reason”. Miss O’Connor and Jessica then explained what was going on and the doctor seemed pissed as she explained how Mercer most likely gave me an expired shot. They had gotten in trouble for it before, and since Miss O’Connor had never actually bought a slave herself before me, she never knew that was a possibility.

While this was happening, I was still strapped naked to a table. But now I was freaking out and hyperventilating as I realized that an act designed to teach me a lesson just turned into me getting pregnant for real. I was even in tears begging them to get the sperm out of me, but the doctor sadly said to me as she unhooked my head from the table, “It’s too late slave. The only way out of this is plan B and that’s up to your owner”. Sadly, I already knew that Miss O’Connor didn’t believe in abortion unless it was medically necessary. I was fucked with a capital F, and I didn’t even get to enjoy the fucking. I already knew my owner wasn’t going to save me from having to carry this thing inside me. By this point I wasn’t even a mess, I was a mess’s mess and sat there hoping that this was just Miss O’Connor fucking with me. I could tell by her face however, that this was real and I was about to be carrying a child for real.

Then the doctor said to Miss O’Connor, “Well, there are two places she can go now. Here, or back to Philadelphia with you. It’s your choice, ma’am”. Miss O’Connor then hugged me while I was crying and sadly said, “I’m sorry Anna, but I don’t have the room or the patience to deal with a pregnant slave and her baby. You’re gonna stay here until it’s done and then you can come right back home like nothing happened. I promise I won't replace you, and I promise that the kid will have a good life growing up on the ranch. You need to be strong right now, and not just for yourself. You need to be strong for that life that will be inside you and depend on you for everything until the day it draws its first breath. Bringing a life into this world is magical, and you'll love that feeling of something growing inside of you after a while”.

Now I was truly upset. Not only did her plan accidentally get me pregnant and leave me with nobody willing to do anything to stop it, but she was also just going to leave me here at the mercy of her asshole brother who had taken Michael to pick out one of the pregnant women in the back like a sex slave. It was simply overwhelming, and I felt like I was going to pass out as the doctor had me get up from the table and follow her and Miss O’Connor to my new “home” for a while.

Luckily for me, the barracks for the pregnant slaves were a little nicer than the other one. It still had the same layout, but these women got a TV area and a stack of plastic chairs. From what I could see from the barred hallway, these slaves even had a bigger bathroom. The few slaves I could see in here shocked me though. In the barracks, these women were only given a cloth wrap to tie around their waist for modesty. Other than that, the rest of their body was on display for everyone to see. Then, right as the doctor escorting us was about to open the door, Michael and Master Walsh came out from behind the middle row of sleeping areas and unlocked it for us as Miss O’Connor explained what just happened. While she was talking with them I could see one of the “breeders”, as they were nicknamed here, awkwardly walking away from the exact area the men had just left while wiping something off of her face. I didn’t know if it was tears or cum, but I quickly forgot as I was dragged back into paying attention to Miss O’Connor’s pissed off rant about what just happened.

She was pissed, but her brother laughed and said, “Maybe she’ll turn out to be a good breeder and we could come to an arrangement after you’ve had some time to think about it. Your daughter said she was a genius or something, and those gay guys would sell me their arm to have their kid be part genius”. I was praying that she didn’t take him up on his offer as the doctor handed me one of the cloth wraps and said firmly, “Alright 27S, you will wear this in the barracks and leave your work clothes in the laundry bin every day when they bring you back. If you are cold, you can also wear your blanket as well. The others will get you up to speed, and if you intentionally cause a miscarriage you will end up in a slave prison for a very long time. This place isn’t hell, and as long as you do your work and do what your told, nine months will pass by very quickly”. The woman then led me to a sleeping area in the middle row and marked my new name, 27S, on the painted brick and left.

As I sat on the bed I noticed that it was a little more comfortable than a regular slave mattress. Same for the pillow and blanket as well, with the blanket feeling like it would actually be comfortable to be under. There was even a concrete nightstand between the beds that had a large cup on it for me containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a small bucket. I was wondering why we were given a bucket, but my thoughts were interrupted by a heavily pregnant Arab woman coming over and sitting on my bed. Coincidentally this was also the woman who Michael just used a few minutes ago, so at least we had some common ground to start off with.

Her stomach was huge, and her breasts just flopped down over it all like those pictures they used to show us in health class to scare us into not having sex. Her nipples were even more horrifying to look at as I could see the damage from what looked like years of milking. I was hoping that Miss O’Connor didn’t forget about me, and praying that I didn’t end up like this woman coming towards me.

She introduced herself as Fatima, my new roommate, and gave me the spark notes rundown of the place. We were woken up and fed at 6 AM, sent off to work at 8 AM, and came back at 7 PM. Overall, my days were going to be work, eat, and sleep with regular interruptions by medical staff needing to check me out for one reason or another. Then, after filling me in she got up and said while looking me up and down, “Your first and second will be the hardest. After that your body and your mind just get used to it all and you’ll barely feel it anymore”. I tried explaining that I would only be there for a little while, but she said with a defeated tone, “Honey, there are a couple of dozen people here who had their masters say that. They never came back for them, and some of them are already on their tenth one. If you want my advice, just give up early and accept that this is the good part of your life. After you can’t carry anymore they just throw your broken ass away and sell you to some factory or farm somewhere”.

I knew Miss O’Connor was coming back for me, but Fatima’s words put some doubt in my mind as I just laid there crying and wondering how this could happen to me. If she replaced me, could I even survive here? I tried those breathing exercises, but in a place like this, it was easier to bury my face in a pillow and scream. Eventually, I was forced to get up for dinner and just sat there in front of the TV silently eating my slave loaf and banana while seeing how these women coped with this life. They were all just as numb as earlier, but you could at least see them crack a smile here and there when something funny happened on the show we were watching, or they saw something cute on a commercial. They were still sad and empty inside, but for some reason, little cracks of light were still trying to pierce the darkness.

Honestly, it gave me some faint hope for surviving this as we all bedded down for the night and I fell asleep to the sound of the other slaves around me. Some of them were masturbating, and some of them were groaning from the strain on their bodies. Some of them were even crying themselves to sleep like I was as I bundled myself under my blanket and tried to push that day’s events out of my head.

[Danicali299]

Too dark for me, but very well written. Normally, I won't read any story unless I know the ending won't be unrelentingly bleak - those that end without hope cause me too much anxiety. I hope sincerely you give her a better ending than being a breeder.

Don’t plan on keeping her there. That’s too evil even for me. If you check the email group we had going I posted the ending I’m working on right now. I just don’t want to post it here and spoil my ending