Whipped IV

"There's a good slut. Now settle down and keep those legs nice and spread."
Sophie's heavy eyes fell shut. Slaves were fed their mush at five each morning—she knew she had to make the most of the few hours she was allowed to rest, but her head was reeling. She'd been hoping to be sold as a secretary or at the very least a nightclub waitress, but a slave farm? That was just one step up from the mines. Was she only good for crawling around a pen in chains, servicing the studs and working the fields as some redneck saw fit?