Chapter 27
Iwas led out of the infirmary later that day and escorted to Carter’s room - our room, according to him - by a couple of the workers wearing those white outfits and wielding cattle-prods.
Despite the dystopian sci-fi farmhand attire, they were actually polite and didn’t stare at me as they let me right to Carter’s door.
They opened it for me and flanked the doorway.
After I entered, they closed the door, leaving me naked and alone in the room.
No. Not Alone.
Carter was there, waiting for me. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him waiting behind a nicely set dinner table, complete with a fancy patterned gold and black tablecloth, candles, China and silverware.
Even though I was naked, wearing a bell collar, and smelling like a hospital, this was still the nicest date someone had ever set up for me.
Not that the bar was too high; all my other dates had been at cheap fast-food chains or walks in public areas.
This was a date, right? I had all the trimmings. And the food smelled delicious. Exotic, spicy, and unlike anything I had ever smelled in Rural Pennsylvania. I walked to the table, hesitantly, and he chuckled.
“Come on, little calf, don’t be afraid. This isn’t a trick,” he said, that velvety voice so charming.
He was dressed in what I would call ‘cowboy chic’, very farm themed, but well-tailored with nice fabrics, complete with boots.
Everything, even his boots, was covered in cow-print.
He’d look like a farm mascot if not for how seriously handsome he was.
There was not a drip of irony on him. Just an earnest devotion to that style.
“Please, sit. I have a surprise for you,” he said, getting up to pull the chair for me and then walk to his desk.
As I sat down, I watched him walk back carrying a black box which he placed on the table next to my place.
“For me? What is it? A fancier cowbell?”
“Are you giving me sass, Tiff?”
I blushed and shook my head no. It was a lie, of course. Not that I’d admit it.
He opened the box, letting the fabric unfold to reveal a classic vintage style 1950s dress.
Of course, in cow print.
It looked like something a housewife would wear. Buttons around the collar, no sleeves, flared skirt. And the material was smooth and gentle to the touch.
“For me? Really?”
“Is that so surprising?” Carter teased.
It was, of course. I couldn’t really believe that a man would buy clothes for me, as if I was something pretty and worth adorning. But instead of saying anything, I just laughed.
“I thought you wanted me to eat naked,” I explained.
“As beautiful as you are naked, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you in beautiful things too. It’s a shame to cover those marvelous spots, but this will still show your arms and your sexy legs, so not a total loss.”
I hesitated. Beautiful spots? I looked for a hint of sarcasm and mockery and found none. Did he really think my vitiligo stains were beautiful? Why did I care? Why was I so quick to forgive a man who had enslaved and exploited so many women?
“I … Thank you,” I said simply, trying to hold back the avalanche of questions and feelings.
“Don’t thank me, just get up and let me put it on you.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. I need to see if it fits.”
I doubted it would. Larger bodies were far harder to flatter than skinny ones. Even clothes made for big women would often sit wrong. Some had more gut, some had more ass, some had more boobs. I sighed, ready to face the awkwardness of deciding which adjustments I’d require.
I got up and lifted my arms, my bell jiggling as Carter guided the dress over my head. As it descended, he tucked it past my breasts, my waist, and … it fit perfectly. Too perfect in fact. Suspiciously so. I lifted my eyebrow at him.
He confessed immediately. “You caught me. I measured you while you were unconscious and had my personal tailor work on it. A dress like this is custom-made. Just like you’ve been custom-made to tempt me in every possible way.”
I looked at myself in the mirror of his room and twirled.
It was incredible what a properly tailored, flattering cut could do for my silhouette.
I was still larger, but the girth of my waist contrasted heavily with the toned state of my legs, and the shape of the dress even slimmed me a little.
What was strange was that the spots did seem to flatter my vitiligo marks, too. It felt … Harmonious and deliberate.
In the reflection, I saw Carter standing beside me. We looked like a matching couple for some midwestern ad. ‘Pasture raised and cruelty-free,’ I thought with some irony.
“Carter, this is too nice.”
“You deserve it, my calf. You deserve all of it.”
“You brought this for me? You set this whole date for me? Really?”
“Yes, of course,” Carter answered, almost surprised by my confusion.
He pulled my chair from the table and gestured for me to sit again. As I obeyed, I took a deep breath of the food in front of us. He served us thin aromatic rice and pieces of chicken in a deep, spicy scented sauce.
“What is this?” I asked.
“This is Tikka Masala,” He said.
“Tikka What?”
“Right, Amish.” He paused. “This is Indian Food. It’s one of my favorites. But I haven’t had it in ages,” he explained.
“Why not? Is it hard to find?”
“No, not hard at all. It brings back memories. Good and bad.” He gave a bittersweet smile. “It’s … difficult.”
“Then why are you doing this now?”
“Because I want to have new memories with it. Memories with you. I’ve denied myself things I’ve wanted for a long time.”
“Because of your work?” I asked.
His face went dark and he didn’t answer, just continued to serve himself, so I pressed. “How did you even start with this, by the way? This facility? This whole thing.”
“Can we just have a nice dinner together and focus on that tonight?”
He broke a piece of dry, disc-shaped bread and passed it to me.
It was still warm and slightly moist from being stored in aluminum foil.
He broke a piece with his hand and dipped it into the sauce before biting into it.
I did the same. It was amazing. The roundness of milk, the faint hint of coconut, and the flavor of a thousand spices. It was unlike anything I’d ever eaten.
“Good, isn’t it?” Carter asked.
“It’s so good,” I nearly moaned, taking another bite and chewing slowly. “Why don’t you want to talk about the farm? It’s your life’s work, isn’t it?”
He lifted his hands and I recoiled, thinking he was going to hit me.
Then I saw the phone in his hand. Maybe I had gone too far?
Maybe he was about to call the guards to remove me?
I was about to apologize, but soft, sitar-heavy music started to play in the background. The lights dimmed ever so slightly.
“Not tonight. Please,” he said, putting the phone down.
That was fair, but there was a growing mischievous force inside of me that didn’t want to take no for an answer. I wanted to pry. To push him. At least a little, just to see what he’d do.
So I raised my brow, dipped my chin and said with my best playful pouty voice, “I suppose I’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight?”
I sounded like a brat. Part of me was thrilled with the reaction, the way Carter lifted his eyebrows and said, in his stern tone, “You’ll sleep in my bed, of course.”
The authority in his voice made me even more eager to challenge him. I probably should have behaved, considering the effort he had put into that date, but I felt closer to Carter when I was under his skin. And I definitely want to be closer to him.
“Oh, will I?” I challenged.
His stern face turned into a sharp, knowing smile. “You don’t want to be disobedient after all this, do you?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Maybe? There’s no ‘maybe.’ You will be a good, sweet calf tonight. You will do so because I’m giving you an order and you want to behave.”
That turned me on and made me want to be more defiant. He’d eaten me out the last time I’d challenged him, he’d opened up in a way and he’d do it again. All I had to do was play my cards right.
“Make me,” I dared.
I stood up with a mock flourish, then I ran.
I tried to go to the bathroom, but he cut me off before I made it.
I turned around and rushed towards the exit.
Again, he reached it first. I wasn’t fast or graceful.
I turned around, my new dress twirling with my sharp turn, and ran to the bed for no reason other than I wanted him to chase me there.
I dove towards the mattress and tumbled, landing face-first into the pillows with a giggling squeal.
Behind me, I heard his boots padding the floor as he rushed to catch up. So I rolled, lifting the dress to show him my wet pussy. While he watched, I started to finger myself, panting and keeping my eyes on him. His expression was hungry, horny. ‘Finally,’ I thought, ‘finally, he’ll fuck me.’
“You’re going to make me wrestle you in that dress?” he asked.
“I’m not making you do anything,” I said, breathless. “You’re the one trying to make me behave.”
“I’ll break your disobedient streak.”
He pounced. Carter got one arm around my waist, the other around my shoulder, then, despite my weight, he lifted me from the mattress to toss me closer to the headboard. Once in the position he wanted, he crawled over me.
Carter was so strong. It turned me on that he didn’t really need stun guns and zappers to dominate me. He straddled my thighs and I savored him.
“See, you want to submit,” he growled as his hands moved to the zipper of my dress.
I held my breath. Finally, I thought again. I arched for him, welcoming him to strip me, leaving me naked except for the bell ringing nonstop. I fought back just to feel more of his power, just to draw it out. He pulled my hand from between my thighs and pinned it above my head.
“What now?” I asked, biting my lip in anticipation.
He was so hard he was nearly ripping through his pants. There was no way he could turn me down now. He’d fuck me hard, ruthlessly, just like we needed.
“Now, I’ll make sure you know what happens with calves that don’t behave,” he replied.
He pulled something from behind the headboard and guided it over my head. He was … dressing me. I was stunned. He pulled it down, tightening the fabric around me, restraining me.
“What the hell is this?”
“A gift,” he said. “For a naughty calf who runs when she’s told to sit.”
It was a straitjacket. It bound my arms against my stomach and chest. It was my size too. I fought, but he was faster. He fastened the buckles behind my back and looked at me with a smirk. I squirmed, but it was pointless.
“Carter! Why? Why won’t you fuck me? Haven’t I been good?” I asked. My voice cracked, high and needy.
“You were good,” he said. “Then you weren’t. That’s how it works, Tiff.”
The aching need between my legs disagreed. I shifted my hips, spreading my thighs a little.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m horny. I’m so horny.”
He ran his fingers up my leg, slowly. He stopped just short of where I wanted his touch. I knew he wanted it, but something was stopping him.
“I know,” he said. “But not tonight.”
The burn of embarrassment hit me first, then the sting of rejection.
I curled onto my side, the fabric of the jacket pressing in close.
My breathing shallowed. He tried to touch my face, but I turned away.
I couldn’t bear to look at him. He was playing games with me.
I didn’t have the emotional space to process all this either.
I just wanted to be fucked. If I couldn’t, I wanted to be left alone.
“Please,” I whispered again, but it was softer, more hollow. “Leave me alone.”
“I-I understand,” Carter sighed. “Do you want me to find you somewhere else to sleep?”
“No,” I said. I still wanted him close, even if I couldn’t look at him. “I just want to sleep. In a bed.”
“Of course.”
He was gentle this time. He pulled a blanket over me and adjusted the pillows. I didn’t open my eyes as he crawled in behind me, but I felt his heat…
No groping. No force. No words. Just the weight of him against me. I stared into the dark and let myself cry silently. Was this kindness or a game? Had I already lost?