Boss headed the cows into the barn and I washed their bags and hooked them up to the pipeline milkers. It was hot in the barn with the animals, and my sweat and the water from the cow washing soon drenched my prison garb. My prison work shirt and work pants clung to my body, and Boss seemed to be aroused by this enough that from time to time he would wallop my ass quickly with his beat strap. But he never said anything except: "Pay attention to the udders, fish."
The splatter of cow poop and cow piss also began to cover my prison garb. Cow poop ran down my shaved head and entered my mouth. Cow piss hit me in the face over and over. I accepted this as a sort of sacramental anointing of my new state--that of prison farm convict. I could not help but lower my head submissively when the cows pissed on me. They were livestock of my Boss, just as I was becoming.
When the milking was finished, Boss head the cows out of the barn and I began to clean barn. I shoveled the fresh manure into the barn gutter where I had knelt during my prison shaving. Boss ordered me to retrieve my chore shirt and shorts:
"Get those damned clothes out of the gutter, fish. You are going to stink enough when you leave here." Boss said. So, I was to leave. Of course, I was to leave. I had a home, and parents, and a job to get back to. But I knew things would no longer be the same even at home.
Then I shoveled the cow poop into the gutter and then pushed it down the gutter with the help of running water from a hose. The manure and the water ran down the gutter to an opening in the side of the barn. At a level below the floor of the barn stood a wagon into which the manure and the liquid ran. When the wagon was full I slammed the end-gate shut. I put down my shovel on the ground in front of me, placed my hands behind my head and called out: "Wagon full, Boss."
Boss then over to the wagon and harnessed one of his horses to the it.
He said to me: "Pick up the shovel and climb in the wagon, fish"
I obey Boss. I stood knee deep in wet cow manure as Boss mounted the harnessed horse and steered us out into fields. When we reached the field, Boss ordered me to shovel the manure out into the fields. Wet, drippy manure ran down the shovel and soaked my prison garb as I performed my labor. Shovel after shovel, it took almost an hour to empty the loaded wagon. When the wagon was empty we headed back to the barn.
"Out of the wagon, fish. Go into the barn, go into your stall, and strip for beating." Boss's words sent a shiver down my spine. I walked into the barn and entered the stall where the pussy bench was. I supposed this was to be my stall. I placed my now cow manure stained prison garb on the pussy bench. Then I knelt beside the pussy bench, my hands folded behind head, looking out of the stall, eager to show Boss my acceptance and submission.
The time passed slowly as I knelt waiting my punishment. It could have been as long as a half hour or maybe it was just a few minutes.
Finally Boss came into my stall. He carried his beat strap. He said:
"Up fish. Put out your hands."
I did this, expecting him to beat my hands. Instead, he took leather cuffs out of his overalls and fastened them around my wrists. I remember my prison etiquette.
"Thank you, Boss."
He made no response except: " Put your arms up, hands outstretched to each side." I naturally obeyed my Boss and he chained my wrist cuffs to chains connected to the ceiling of the stall. And I immediately said: "Thank you, Boss."
Then he said: "Lift up your left leg, fish." And I obeyed Boss and received a leather cuff on that leg. "Thank you , Boss." I said. But I lowered my left leg after he cuffed it.
"I did not order you to lower that leg, fish. You will be beaten for that." I shuddered again. This time fearfully as I tried to add up the number of strokes I would be getting.
"Raise your right leg, fish." Boss ordered. And I felt a leather cuff fastened to that leg. "Thank you , Boss." I said. But this time I kept the leg in the air until Boss gave the command to lower it.
Next Boss fastened chains leading to rings on the walls to my leg cuffs. "Thank you, Boss." I said. And Boss walked around behind me, slapping his beat strap in his palms all the while.
"You will count off every one of your strokes and thank me for each one, fish." Said Boss.
"Thank you , Boss." I said.
And almost before the words had left my mouth I felt the first slam of the hard leather beat strap on my back. I cried out in surprise and pain. Then I said: "One Boss, thank you Boss."
And my first prison beating began. I received twenty strokes of the beat strap, responding to each one with the appropriate number and "thank you, Boss". After a time, the pain sent me into some inner space where the pain remade me, changed me, each whip mark making me more and more his property.
Finally, he finished by saying: "Your whipping is over fish."
And I replied: "Thank you Boss for whipping this convict and correcting its behavior."
Now, unbelievably I felt a cool ointment being spread across my whip marks by Boss. I moaned joyously as I felt his strong farm worked hands massage the whipped places on my back. Helplessly I whispered: "Oh, yes Boss, yes Boss."
Then he rubbed some of the smooth slippery ointment into my ass. Working it deeply up inside me, grabbing and massaging the sides of my ass as he did it. Then he unchained me and I almost fell backwards into his arms. He steered my naked, whipped, cuffed body down upon the pussy bench. I eagerly spread my arms and legs down the sides of the pussy bench as he chained me there.
Then I heard him gather his man spit in his mouth and he spit into my ass. I felt his spit into me, followed by his massive cock. I gasped out and whimpered as I felt his cock plow its way into what was now my cunt. Helpless moans came from my mouth as I whispered: "Yes, thank you, Boss, thank you Boss, thank you. Boss."
In far too short a time, his hot jizm came pouring into my pussy, completing my encuntment, making me his prison bitch. After he finished breeding me he came around to face my front and permitted me to clean his mancock with my lips and tongue. Then he unchained me from the pussy bench, through a sleeping bag on the floor of my stall.
"Thank you for my stall, Boss."
I crawled into the sleeping bag, his cum still running out of my pussy.
"Get plenty of sleep, fish. We get up early in prison." Said my Boss.