Amelia moaned into the thick leather of her muzzle gag, squirming in her cuffs and hard chains as the vibrator buzzed strongly between her thighs. The suction on her breasts remained constant in its continuous rhythm, milking her in machine like obedience.

Amelia's own moans twinned and joined the chorus of grunting, groaning, and pleasure wracked squeals that rose around her in the large barn. There were roughly a dozen women, all mostly university aged or young professionals, who were bound just as she was, naked just as she was, and being repeatedly edged...or in rare cases finally allowed to cum, just as she was. A farm hand dressed in tight jeans and a plaid shirt, knee high brown boots, moved calmly between the squirming women, cooing at them as one might the animals that they were treated as, patting or spanking their rumps, teasing their aching breasts, ruffling or stroking their hair. And always carefully remining them of that most humiliating yet exciting fact in her warm, playful voice.

Each and every one of them had volunteered to be here.

The MacDonald Farm had hit on hard times in the past decade since old MacDonald himself had passed, and had been on the verge of closure until Elspeth Macdonald, in league with her daughters Fiona and Maisie, had decided to take the farm in a new direction. There was still planting and harvesting that was done, but the canny matriarch of the MacDonald clan sold their cattle and other animals...and began recruiting humans instead. It turned out that there were two niche, but interrelated markets, that could be served through this. There were a number of wealthy individuals who were quite keen on the fantasy of being kept in such conditions, or in purchasing quantities of the new liquid products produced. And there were any number of young adults who were rather keen on making money...which the MacDonald Farm's new patrons were only too willing to assist with, through an appropriately set up foundation.

Amelia shuddered, yanking against her chains in frustrated desperation as the vibrator dropped from its high buzz to a low purr, once again leaving her aching and denied on the cusp of orgasm. She growled loudly into her muzzle gag, the thick leather keeping it utterly unintelligible, and the farm hand, in this case Maisie MacDonald herself, wandered over to give her some caressing. Running her hands through Amelia's hair and soothing "Daisy" as Amelia was known.

Amelia had some substantial student loans, and was keen on pursuing a legal degree...but she needed a fair amount of money. The MacDonald Farm Program had been suggested to her by one of her friends, who had bragged that after 'working' for the Farm for a total of two years she was completely debt free. That had appealed to the young redhead with dreams of rapidly joining a high powered law firm, and she had signed up for a full year...four months ago.

As jobs went, it wasn't too bad. Some women rotated through on a daily or weekly basis, staying only a little while to capture some additional spending money for a trip, or in advance of holidays. There was another barn for them, much larger and designed to feature a greater amount of kink and outright domination. MacDonald Farms kept two professional dominatrixes on retainer to help them provide a fetish experience for the dozens of women who rotated through that barn, about half of them usually wealthy ladies looking for an exotic and erotic change of pace. That barn, despite paying out generous checks for the women earning, still brought in about half of the Farm's income.

A third and final barn housed the women who didn't want to be treated as human milking machines, and those men who wished to try out the MacDonald Farm...all of them comprised the Farm's pony herd. There were no less than half a dozen farm hands that the MacDonalds had had to hire to manage the roughly two dozen pony slaves that were committed to the Farm, and given their lack of 'production' such pony slaves had to provide a minimum of service that was measured in multiple weeks at minimum. No dipping in and out of the lifestyle for them.

Amelia twitched as Maisie's hands stopped stroking her head and dipped down to gently massage her breasts. She moaned, bunting herself against the soft hands of the young MacDonald lady, who was roughly the same age as her...and yet possessed far more power and privilege in this enviornment than Amelia ever would. She was utterly dependent on Maisie for any pleasure whatsover, as Maisie and Fiona were the two Farmhands who worked closest with the woman committed in this barn. The ones who, whether they were paying or being paid, had committed to a minimum of six months, and up to two years straight, to be retained and used by the Farm. Beyond actual money, the main thing that kept the women grunting and moaning away was the possibility of orgasm. If they hit their quota for the day, they would get one or more...if they didn't, they were further denied.

Amelia thrust her hips somewhat frantically into the padded bench as Maisie crouched down in front of her, eyes professionally examining the jug that Amelia had been delivering into for the past four hours. Maisie's hands continued to massage and caress Amelia's breasts almost absently, a reassuring gesture that she and her sister used to keep women like Amelia calm and quiet while they did their inspections.

Then it came. The double squeeze. The light slap on each breast. The sign of a job well done.

Amelia moaned in gratitude as Maisie rose wordlessly, and then squealed in pleasure as her vibrator ramped up once again, this time roaring with a power that would propel her within minutes towards the most titanic orgasm she had ever had. There was simply no comparison to pleasure outside the Farm. The constant denial and stimulation had created a deliciously sexually charged atmosphere, even here in the long term service barn. No need for fetish trappings, the purity of the submission that went on here was enough for Amelia and her fellow voluntary captives.

As she tumbled over the cliffs, and down into the depths of ecstasy, Amelia had time for one final fleeting thought.

How the hell was she going to be able to think straight enough to do anything other than re-up for another year when her contract ran out?

Then the wave of pleasure hit her, and rational thought and worries disappeared. She was just an animal, rutting and moaning in the throes of pleasure...just like the others like her...

She was just one of the other animals...on the ol' MacDonald Farm.