Until last evening, I’d forgotten just how long I had been on the farm. My days are varied and I am aware of the changing of the seasons - especially when working outside. But I’ve not seen a calendar or celebrated any of the holidays for so long, I really didn’t know how long it was.
I’d forgotten how long it was since I left the farm. The land is sizeable and I have worked on all of it at one time or another, but I have never gone through the black gate at the end of the dirt road to the house since I first came through them, however long ago that was. I’ve never been sick and the time I slipped and injured my leg, a doctor came to the farm and treated me there.
I’d forgotten the last time I wore clothes. I didn’t even have any clothes on when I arrived - I had got into the back of the van in the parking lot of the hotel and undressed as soon as the door was closed. I don’t know what happened to what I had been wearing - I have a feeling they were just destroyed. For the first few weeks I found working barefoot hard, especially outside, but it doesn’t bother me at all now. I can work on any part of the farm as hard and as long as I need to and I don’t really notice my nakedness or my lack of shoes. I actually think I would find it very uncomfortable to wear shoes now - my feet have changed shape in all this time working barefoot and shoes would feel very odd, I am sure.
I’d forgotten what it was like not to have a red and sore backside. I get spanked every morning and every night without fail and often get additional discipline if it is necessary. Again, for the first few weeks this new feeling of being over the knee and getting my butt roasted twice a day made me squeal and cry. I’m not saying that I take it silently and stoically now - I still whimper and squirm and occasionally yelp when a particularly hard stroke lands in a sensitive place, but I don’t cry and squeal anything like I did. The disciplinary canings and tawsing, however, they still get me yelping and wailing - being on the farm means that I don’t have to hold back and can let go if I need to.
I’d forgotten what it is to sit and watch television, or read a book, or scroll on my phone, or talk to a friend. I’m completely isolated here on the farm and when I am not working I am either locked in my cage or strung up in one of the barns. I don’t have any concept of free time - I work, I serve, I eat, I sleep. At first I got bored and anxious, especially when I was strung up in the barn for hours on end. It took me several weeks to even realise that I didn’t need to hold in my piss - if I needed to go, I just pissed where I was. Now, I go into a meditative state when strung up. I can do nothing else, I know I will, eventually, be let down and I know I have no say in when that will be. The ache in my arms and in my legs is part of my meditation. Depending how tightly I have been strung up, I may have to be on my tiptoes and making sure I keep my feet in touch with the ground helps me stay grounded. It’s not like I don’t get some understanding of the entertainment that the world is enjoying. There’s almost always a radio on in the house when I am working and occasionally I’ll catch the date when the news comes on. I don’t get to enjoy the television even if I am in the living room. If I’m being used as a footstool I will be blindfolded and have my noise-cancelling headphones on playing white noise so I can hear nothing of what is going on around me. I’ll be in my own world, simply trying to make sure I keep my position and don’t fidget, no matter how long I am there. Occasionally, I’ll be used instead of a chair for mealtime. I’ll be able to hear the conversation, but play no part in it as I bear the weight on my back. I might be in the Den for an evening under the rim chair, again with my eyes blindfolded and my headphones on, just a tongue licking, probing and pleasing.
I’d forgotten what it is like to sit at a table and eat with others. I don’t have to eat like a dog, thankfully, but I do eat on my knees and with my hands. I have never been allowed cutlery on the farm. My diet has changed since I have been here. Some while ago my breakfasts and lunches were replaced with a pale brown smoothie-like drink which tastes very faintly like wholemeal bread but is otherwise basically tasteless. My dinners haven’t changed since I arrived - plain lean chicken, pork or fish, wholemeal pasta and veg. I generally eat nothing between meals, although I might occasionally get a few scraps if I am out working. I can drink as much water as I like, and I get several bellyfuls of piss each day, although that doesn’t seem to quench my thirst - I guess the salty and bitter taste means that it contains elements which don’t assuage thirst. The taste depends on what has been consumed and what time of day it is. I can always tell if too much coffee has been consumed - the piss then is so strong and bitter.
I’d forgotten what relaxation is like. As I said, I have no free time. A typical day starts when my cage is uncovered and unlocked and I am able to empty my bladder and bowels. After an hour on the treadmill, I clean myself inside and out in the cold shower in the corner of the outhouse where my cage lives. Once I am clean, I can drink my breakfast smoothie which will be on the shelf beside my cage ready for me. Then I walk across the yard to the main house and get the breakfast ready. I’ll be told what I am to prepare - most days it will be some form of a cooked breakfast and I used to yearn at the smell of bacon and sausages cooking and even of the bread in the toaster. It’s so long since I tasted any of it now that the smell doesn’t really have much effect anymore. I make hot drinks - a pot of English Breakfast tea and a cafetiere of coffee, and pour two glasses of orange juice. I’m usually interrupted to get my first two drinks of the day. I just get down on my knees, open my mouth and swallow. I’m proud of the fact that I haven’t spilt a drop for such a long time. Once both breakfasts have been finished, I’ll get my morning spanking before I wash and dry the dishes and put everything away. Some mornings I might be put back on my knees for my mouth to be used and I’ll get a load or two of cum to add to the piss. Then I’ll be put to work - I have chores in the house that need to be done to keep the place sparkling. It may be a farm, but I am expected to ensure that it is cleaned to a five-star hotel standard at all times and woe betide me if anything found out of place or dirt is discovered in a room or space I am supposed to have cleaned. That’s when the cane or tawse will come out. Most days I will be working somewhere outside as well. Only in the really cold times am I able to concentrate on indoor jobs, and even then a lot of those will be in the barn or one of the outhouses, not in the house. I chop wood. I weed the gardens and do the planting where I am ordered. I maintain the vegetable gardens, harvesting the fruit and veg, and I look after the chickens and ducks. I help with any work which needs done on fences or roofs. Some time ago I was put to work clearing the stones from an area of the farm near the woods to make space for a new greenhouse, which I then helped to build. I look after all the produce in the greenhouses as well. When the leaves fall from the trees, I sweep and collect them and add them to the compost heap which is then used to fertilise the beds. The only job I don’t do outside is to mow the lawns - that needs the ride-on lawnmower and I am not permitted to sit down, so can’t do that. I’ll get called to take another bellyful of piss from time to time. My only link to technology is the watch I wear at all times during the day which monitors my exercise and heart rate and on which I get orders to report for urinal service or to do some other task. I’ll get my lunchtime smoothie at some point and will be able to empty my bladder and bowels and clean myself inside again. If I am particularly sweaty or grimy after working outside, I’ll have another cold shower in the outhouse before I am able to go back inside the house. Once I’ve cooked and served dinner and eaten my own on my knees in the kitchen, the rest of the evening will be spent in one of four ways: strung up in the barn until it’s bedtime; or on my hands and knees with two pairs of feet resting on my back; or on my knees licking and sucking on two pairs of bare, sweaty and smelly feet; or under the rimchair in the Den. I’ll get two last bellyfuls of piss and my evening spanking before I am sent to the outhouse for forty minutes of exercise - either weights training with dumbbells or yoga/stretching/core work. I then empty and clean myself for a final time and get back in my cage to sleep. I lock myself in with the padlock and am secured until I am let out the next morning. I’m always shattered by bedtime and have no trouble getting to sleep very quickly, despite not being able to lie full length, despite only having a thin mattress beneath me and despite having only a rough army surplus blanket to cover me. Some evenings, I will be bent over the bench in the Den and will get a load of cum in my mouth and my arse. If there are visitors to the farm, I may take multiple loads in my holes. Every now and then there will be a party and I will be chained on my knees with the urinal gag in place, blindfolded and in my own, more or less silent world just drinking whatever is pissed into the funnel and unaware of who is using me.
The reason I say that I’d forgotten all this until last evening is because that was when I was allowed to watch television for the first time since I arrived on the farm. Told to kneel instead of assuming my footstool position, and without either blindfold or headphones, I watched part of a programme on the television that I normally only get to dust and polish. It seemed to be an entertainment programme about celebrities before they were famous and the presenter was chuckling at some famous actor on video performing in her school pantomime when he said,
“And lastly, as usual, our ‘where are they now?’ feature. And this week is one for those of you who were teenyboppers ten years ago. Because tonight marks exactly ten years since ‘Abs-0-Lutely Fierce’ played their final concert at Wembley Arena. For those of you who have forgotten them, or are too young to remember, at the time they had been one of the biggest teen bands for around five years. Even if you don’t remember the band, you’ll have heard their hits on the radio, I am sure. And even if you don’t remember much about their music, you may well remember that twenty-four year old lead singer, Joey Worth, issued a statement the following morning that he had left the band. Whilst the other four members of the band have carried on one form or another, that night was the last time that Joey Worth performed or, indeed, was seen in public. He left the band’s hotel that night and has never been seen again. They say you need to be very rich or very poor to just disappear off the face of the earth. Joey’s sudden disappearance certainly bears out the first part of that old adage, since he was estimated to be worth over £25m at the time of his disappearance. His royalties are, we understand, paid into an offshore account. Has anyone seen him since that fateful night ten years ago? To play us out this week, here’s Abs-0-Lutely Fierce' playing their biggest hit which was number one for eight weeks. But, where IS Joey Worth now?!”
A film of the band playing live played and after a while the programme’s credits rolled over the clip as I watched my former self singing for the thousands of people who were dancing and singing along. I looked away from the screen, thinking about how different I was now - head and body hairless, body tanned and lithe, naked, and worn out from a day labouring on the farm. And I looked up at my Owners - Master Dan and Master Louie. Master Dan got up and, completely unexpectedly, picked up a bottle of champagne and poured three glasses. Handing one to Master Louie and one to me, he raised his in a toast,
“Happy anniversary, boy,” he said.
“Thank You, Masters, for allowing me to become my true self and for allowing me to serve you for ten years,” I replied, amazed it had been so long.
“Here’s to another ten years, boy,” Master Louie said.
We clinked our glasses and drank.
That evening I was allowed to worship their feet without the blindfold or headphones and was taken to their room and fucked from both ends on their before being allowed to sleep on the floor beside it.
I’ve never been so happy.
