It was one of the scariest things she'd ever done, and it seemed to completely spiral out of control now, but she wasn't sure she'd want to stop if she could. Cue the record scratch and the "I bet you wonder how I got here" voiceover, she thought. She adjusted the strap of her small backpack with a nervous giggle and waited for the car. This was it, then.

It started fairly innocent, as usual, but then took a turn. She met the guy online, and since he didn't even live in the same country it felt safe enough to talk about each other's darkest fantasies. It felt almost boring and cliché to confess to her cravings to be dominated, used, owned and hurt. Half the dark romance fantasy books she read these days were about that theme. Wanting an abusive daddy dom was apparently the latest tiktok craze, and she got worried that he'd see her as just another wannabe thot or whatever the term was lately. So she'd told him the full extent of it. She didn't just want to be owned, she wanted to be property. An object, a pet, cattle. She told him all about the details and variations of the fantasies; milking machines, breeding, branding, and eventually even the idea of being kept for consumption. It was never too much, never too dark, never too extreme, and the more comfortable she felt telling her abstract digital friend all about it, the more accepting she became of her own desires. She spent sleepless nights in bed until morning, one hand holding her phone to share fresh fantasies, or looking up the most perverted stories and videos for inspiration, the other between her legs.

One night she used lipstick to draw out the cuts of meat on her skin and sent him pictures, the first pictures of her he ever saw. Another night he told her to always be on hands and knees, no matter what. She couldn't stand or sit or act like a human until the next morning. She ate from the floor, she pissed herself in the bath, she slept in a corner of her bedroom and she didn't say a word. She did that one frequently after, sometimes even without being told to. And every time she stripped herself of her clothes and her humanity for him, it felt better. The orgasms were more and more intense. And every time he dangled the next step in front of her like a carrot, encouraging her to go forward, to give more, to be less. So when one day he suggested sending her a train ticket and instructions where to go to be picked up and treated like a dumb little cow, she only resisted a little bit. The next time he offered again, she resisted a little bit less. The third time she just said "when?".

And so it was that she left on a Friday afternoon, telling her colleagues to enjoy the weekend, lying that they'd catch up on Monday. She did not make arrangements to water her plants, she did not tell anyone where she went or even that she was going. Either she'd be back after having fulfilled a lifelong fantasy, or.. she discovered that she didn't care. The moment was all that mattered. She packed a few of her sexiest things, her passport and her phone, and she just left. Hours by train, through open borders, then a bus to more remote areas, then after a day of traveling a short walk into the woods, getting dark in the twilight, until she found a public bathroom as he had said she would. She'd feel so silly if he stood her up now, but in the very least she'd follow instructions just in case he did show up. In a dissociated haze now, high on the potential of realising her dream, she stripped. She took a look in the dirty mirror and saw the pale redhead, young and tight, smooth from the neck down, pristine. She looked so pure and clean in the dirty bathroom. Smiling, she put on her cowgirl miniskirt, made of real cow skin, her one public allowance for her deep secret fantasy. She fastened the strappy heels around her ankles and when she got back up put on her sheer black top. She looked like a truckstop whore, and she loved it. She packed her decent clothes into her backpack with her phone and her passport. No pockets in this skirt... He told her to wait, so she'd wait. Until morning if need be, and then she'd probably change back into her normal clothes, embarrassed at going along with the fantasy for so long, buy a ticket for the train and head back home in time to be back at work on Monday.

The car horn snapped her out of her daydreams and back to the present. So he did come. He did speak the truth about wanting her to live out some fantasies. She opened the door. It was fully dark outside now, the headlights of the car blinding her, but allowing her to see the silhouette of a man, walking towards her with confidence. He stopped so, so close to her and took her backpack from her fingers, finding no resistance. "Hey little cow, I'm glad you made it". She swallowed and nodded, letting him take her by the arm and guide her to the back of the car. He'd told her he'd do this, to add to the excitement. But it seemed very real right now when he opened the back, took out a can of gasoline and a box of matches, and helped her climb into the dark, narrow trunk. She could finally see his face and smiled back at him. It was all going to be alright. She saw her backpack still in his hand as he closed the lid, heard the sound of liquid falling onto cloth, a match striking and catching fire, and then the "whoomp" of something bursting into flame. Were those her things? He wouldn't. It was all going to be alright. She felt him get in the car. Heard the door close, the ignition kicking into life, the tyres on gravel, then felt the car shake and bounce along the long forest path, away from cameras and civilisation, exactly the kind of path one would take to make somebody disappear.

She allowed herself to be afraid, and felt her cunt immediately respond. This was exactly what they'd been talking about, what she's been dreaming about, what made her cum so many times when she thought about it. She couldn't stop her hand sliding up her skirt, finding her smooth bare slit and working its magic. At first she thought she'd keep track of the length of the trip by the number of orgasms, turning it into a perverted game, but soon enough she lost count of those as well. It felt like hours. She dozed, she masturbated, she questioned her sanity, she screamed, she masturbated some more. At no point did she think of escaping or resisting, though. At no point did she regret taking the invitation. Not yet.

She woke up to fresh air and a bare light bulb above her head, immediately obscured by her captor's figure blocking the light and, when his hand closed around her throat, blocking her air. His fingers almost touched behind her neck, so small and fragile in his fist. His other hand pushed her legs wide and he slid two fingers into her without hesitation. Suddenly she felt intense shame at the state of her fuckhole. Dripping wet, raw from rubbing, smelling of sex and desperation. He wasn't interested in sex though, using his grip on her neck and her cunt to lift her out of the car. He tossed her onto his shoulder, his large hand on the cow hide pulled tight over her ass, knocking the wind out of her before her eyes could adjust to the light. She vaguely noticed concrete walls, an industrial looking floor, rough cement stairs and bare metal grating. With a grunt he dropped her onto a metal chair, hard enough that she felt it would leave a bruise or two. She was about to complain, but her mouth went dry the moment she looked past the man and at the room she was in. White tile, sterile stainless steel workbenches, racks lining the walls, covered in tools, machinery and camera equipment in every corner. She didn't even notice the noose fall around her neck until it pulled tight and lifted her ass off the chair. Her hands were free to claw at the rope and her legs were free to kick and struggle, but the mechanical whirring of the winch above her head didn't even change in pitch, lifting her petite frame like it was nothing. Her mouth wide open in a silent scream, she could feel the blood pressure rise in her head while her lungs hitched and heaved in vain, trying to fill with air. Her captor, her anonymous friend, her confidant was standing in front of her and finally he looked her in the eyes, seeing her and acknowledging her.

"I'm sorry I had to be so shock and awe about everything, pet. Nothing's a bigger turn off than a cow who thinks she's human. It was important to not give you a chance to ruin it". His eyes still locked with hers, he pulled a metal tray closer. Her kicks got weaker, her lips turning blue. She realised she hadn't said a word since he pulled up, he hadn't introduced himself, they hadn't agreed on safewords, she didn't even get the chance to tell him what she wanted him to do to her the most. His fingers closed on her chin, holding her head still and stopping her body from swinging. "You are perfect, so I won't let you ruin it. Trust me, everything will be amazing". She felt a pinch on her cheek and saw him look into her mouth, wide open in a long futile gasp. The second pinch was at the base of her tongue, and unlike her cheek this one kept growing in intensity. A faint guttural scream escaped her tied off throat, and with a hard push the thick needle broke through on the other side of her tongue and out of her other cheek. He smiled at her. "Good girl, that's one". He bent both ends of the needle against her cheeks, so it would be impossible to pull out again. He then reached into her mouth, one thick, rough finger pushing her pale blue lips further apart, and her tongue down in her mouth. The second needle was pushed through closer to her lips, stabbed through her tongue near the tip and out the other cheek again. Bent, twisted, locked in place. "There you go, my dumb little cow. I didn't invite you for your conversation, so no need to talk. But we don't want your tongue to get in the way of your mouth's other purposes, do we?"

He reached out for the remote of the winch, hanging from the ceiling next to her twitching body, and he pressed a button. Instead of lowering her, though, she went higher up until her feet were at his eye level. She thought about kicking him, right in the face, but she was too weak to do anything like it, even if she wanted to. And part of her didn't want to. Part of her was fascinated, ecstatic, eager for more. The screaming panicked terrified part of her drowned it out right now, but it was there. She could feel his hand on her leg, rough calluses on her smooth skin. His fingers closed around her calf, holding her leg steady. She managed a rasping sliver of breath, forced into her lungs, and out again in a whimper. Just enough to stay conscious. Just enough to experience everything. "You won't need these anymore either, little toy. Why walk when you can crawl?" She expected him to take off her heels, but instead heard the sound of metal sliding over metal as he grabbed the next object from the tray. He stuck the thin sharp blade through her foot, right above her heel, in and out behind her Achilles tendon. One swift pull through and a first splatter of blood painted the tiles as he severed the tendon. The second was less careful, less precise due to her kicking and trashing, but just as effective. And just like that, he turned his back on her, kicked the chair away and hit the quick release on the winch. She fell onto her feet. Never the most stable in high heels, she now felt her ankles buckle right away. She fell, hit her head, probably bruised and pulled a few muscles, but none of that mattered. Scratching at her neck to pull the rope off and breathe again was all that mattered.

She struggled to get up, but couldn't manage more than hands and knees. Her feet so thoroughly disabled, laying limp in a pool of her own blood, she knew they wouldn't hold her weight if she tried. Hanging her head down, she saw a small puddle of spit and blood form where her tortured mouth couldn't control the bleeding and the drooling. His fist closed in her hair, pulling her up onto her knees and forcing her to look up at him. "You're just in shock, my dumb little cow. I know how much you want this, and once you're over it you'll learn how right this is. You might hate me right now, but I'm only fulfilling the first promise of oh so many. Welcome to your new home, pet" He didn't need to push hard on her jaw to open her mouth, and slid his cock into her in one smooth thrust. Her tongue held in place with skewers through her cheeks, she couldn't protest anyway. Just sounds, animalistic grunts, impossible to form a sentence without sounding like a dumb cow. She felt the needles through her tongue and cheeks shift and work with every push forward, ripping and stretching. She reached up and put her hands on his hips, trying to push him away at first, to let her breathe, to stop the sexual assault, but found herself matching his movements, until she could have sworn that she was pulling him into her. Slamming into her face, fucking her like meat, treating her throat like a warm fertile cunt, making her useful. She looked up at him and fucked her own face harder on his cock until he came deep in her mouth. She was such rapemeat. Finally.