The Training Barn

I finally got the courage to leave my dead-end rust-belt town and head to the big city. I had a couch to crash on from an old high school friend, until I found something to get on my own feet. Maybe waiting tables, taking night classes, that sort of thing. All I had to do was get there, and hitchhiking was the cheapest way. 

One big-rig ride got me a couple states over, to a truck-stop in the middle of nowhere. My second ride was going all rest of the way overnight, and I dozed off watching the dashed lines on the dark highway.

I awoke with a start to the sounds of birds and machinery, finding myself unable to move. Coarse ropes wrapped around me in dozens of loops bound me directly to a vertical wooden beam several feet off the floor. My wrists were tied fast in place against the beam, and other loops above my knees held them hugging either side of it of the foot wide beam. Save for the rope, I was naked, with no sign of my clothes, or what little jewelry I wore. Smooth rubber filled my mouth, held in place by a strap. I tried to pull free and scream, failing at both, and noticing for the first time I wasn’t alone. 

I turned as far as I could to look and saw a man, not the truck driver I’d been hitching with, but a complete stranger, pushing a heavy metal box up against the beam below me. While I struggled and squirmed non-stop, screaming into the gag, the man casually, reached under me and with two thick fingers spread my pussy lips open. I tried to escape his touch, but only managed to raise myself an inch or two against the bonds and beam, and his fingers never lost their position. 

Then I heard a ratcheting sound below me and felt a hard, slick presence push between those fingers – and between my folds, and into me. I trembled with horror at the realization that some kind of dildo was slowly being forced into me. It was thick, and textured in such a way as to make me hyper aware of its lubricated presence moving deeper and deeper into me, click by mechanical click, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The fake cock didn’t stop until it pressed up against the very end of me, and I pulled up away from it as far as I could to alleviate the pressure. I strained and grimaced with the effort of trying to pull away, not able to think of anything else. More metal-on metal sounds and I felt two more sensations that pushed me right over the edge of panic. First was a soft, rubbery pressure right up along my slit from the base of the shaft to my clit. The other was a firmer, almost finger like touch going the other way, nosing right against my asshole, then just inside.

While I was still freaking out about this, the man bent to throw a couple switches on the metal box, and the dildo slowly lowered from me, to my short term relief. I strained up still, trying to get it out altogether, but the retreat stopped when it was still firmly inches inside me, and then it reversed direction and smoothly, unstoppably pushed all the way back in. I wailed into my gag as the shaft stuffed me, then the other pieces pressed against my clit and popped into ass. The wail turned into another muffled scream as the flip of another switch set the whole contraption – shaft and attachments – to vibrating. 

I had tried to catch his eye, to get his attention, but he steadfastly ignored me. The man payed me no heed, intent only on adjusting the machine, which was now fucking me slowly, inward to the maximum he had set, and then out to a minimum that left no hope of escape. He adjusted the speed and rhythm of it several times, from slow and steady, to fast and hard, to the most disturbing – a hard thrust in, and slow slide out. Each time the shaft bottomed out inside me, the buzzing ends of the attachments pressed right up against my clit, or nosed into and just popped past the ring of my asshole. 

Seemingly satisfied, the man flipped one last switch, gave my bare ass a light slap, turned, and left. Just like that. The machine fucked me on its own, randomly switching between number of different speeds and patterns it had been programmed with. I was held trapped, at its utter lack of mercy.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I looked around, at what seemed at first to be an empty barn. But it wasn’t entirely empty. There were several other beams in the broad open space. Four of them had ropes tied to them much like the ones that held me, and I realized that two of them were occupied with girls tied just like me. One was black, and seemed nearly unconscious, head lolled to the side as her machine fucked away untiring under her. The other was petite and pale and blonde, staring sightlessly ahead at nothing, ceaselessly emitting the sounds I’d thought were birdcalls around her drool-dripping gag. As I watched she suddenly seized, head falling back as she screamed into her gag, and her body shook violently. I realized she was cumming, and wondered how many orgasms the machine had forced from her. Her machine didn’t stop, didn’t change its programmed movements one bit.

Just then the black woman stirred, opened her eyes in confusion, as if not knowing where she was, and then wider in terror and recognition as she jerked in her bonds, staring over at the mindless girl next to her, and then desperately over the rest of the barn, finally finding me looking back. Despite the ball wedged in her mouth I read her expression, or believed I could, and saw pity, and fear, and resignation. Then as I watched, a dreamy cast came over her as well as her machine changed pattern. 

This was going to happen to me. I knew it. I could feel it. The machine fucking me was doing things to me. The fullness, the stimulation of my clit, the maddening tease of my asshole, the sheer relentlessness. My horror and fear kept it all at bay, I told myself, but it was forcing the sensation into me. Forcing the pleasure through me. How long would it take to reduce me to them? How long had those two been here? How long until-

The machine changed patterns under me; a hard thrust that hilted the cock and pressed its vibrating tortures hard against me, then three quick pumps and a long pressing pause, as if it were trying to make sure it couldn’t get any deeper, then a slow retreat. By the third of these thrusts, I knew that it was going to be my undoing. The roughness of it. The obnoxious, insistent pumps, The utter fullness. If they continued much longer, it would force me over the edge, and I would cum. And it would do this to me again and again.

The black woman’s muffled moan drew my attention. She was cumming now, too, her body tensing and releasing with each slow, steady thrust of the dildo under her. I found myself staring into her eyes as my climax, the first one, struck me like lightning.

Categories: Cassie Andra, Erotic Fiction, The Wrong AlphabetTags: , , ,

Cassie Andra

Old enough to know better and not care. Vanilla on the outside. Vanilla through and through, except for the mind. You don't want to go there, but I'll give you peeks. Be warned: erotica themes include standard fun, but also the taboo-est of the taboo. Coming of age, infidelity, family relations, dubious and non-consent. Every throbbing inch of it is, however, fantasy, and should be treated as such.

1 Comment

  1. Anonymous

    Some times you make it hard. I liked the story. liked the imagery, the drama. I could clearly see what you were writing, but as with a few others it felt unfinished to me. The title ” training barn” training for what? Ma-am I will say to you the same thing I said to Wil. any and all of your stories are far superior than anything I can do. I feel reluctant at critiquing yours or any others stories because of this. I have trolled for so long and after finding this site and talking to Wil I have decided to say something, good or bad. No thoughts are worse then unsatisfied ones. So thank you for your stories and please keep them up :)

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