Page 11 of Milk
“I understand. There’s none on this part of the tour, however. We are heading there, though. If you can hold for just a moment longer.”
I grunted quietly and nodded as we left the packing plant to walk outside, under the hot sun, towards an enclosure in an area much bigger than most farms would allow their animals. Around ten cows were grazing. A few of them were under sprinklers, which were constantly squirting, probably to deal with the heat. Their fur looked clean and free of wounds, their horns and hooves were shiny, and I saw feed trays with barley and wheat.
“Our animals are brushed daily and bathed once a week. They roam free for the majority of their day. The milking is performed by hand by trained experts, only after a stimulating udder massage.” He pointed to the concrete stable beyond.
I could see two men dressed in the same full white suit as the men in the packing plant through the open bay doors. They sat on milking stools and were pulling on the udders of a cow into a bucket. It was hard to imagine a more traditional way of getting milk.
“Well, I’m truly impressed that such artisanal methods are … sufficient,” I said, trying to bait him into admitting that it was just for show.
“That’s why we are limited to just a couple thousand a day. More would stress the animals and starve their calves. We don’t want that. You tasted our milk, I presume. Delicious, isn’t it? An unhappy cow doesn’t produce that.”
“It was pretty good,” I said. “I drank about three full glasses. Which brings me to a pressing matter … the restroom.”
“Right, right, of course. See that building there? That’s our animal wellness facility. There’s a bathroom just past the entrance. It’s where we are heading next.”
Thank god, I thought. I was almost pissing myself, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of such a gentle, handsome man. He was treating me like just an ordinary woman, like I always wanted. I didn’t want to give him a reason to yell, look at me differently, or look down on me.
The green door to the animal wellness facility was getting closer and closer. I started to pick up the pace slightly. To a point where, even without realizing it, I started to leave Mr. Hill behind. Only by a couple of steps, but still behind me, all the same.
I threw the door open, hoping to spot the restroom on my own before Mr. Hill got excited about his facility and launched into another explanation - I appreciated his passion, really, it was endearing - and delayed my release again.
When I opened the door, all I saw was an entirely empty building. No furniture, no windows, no interior walls or floors. From floor to ceiling, it was just concrete walls holding up a corrugated metal ceiling with a few fluorescent lights. There didn’t seem to be any animals and, least of all, any wellness in the Animal Wellness Centre. No worker. Not a single piece of furniture. Worst of all, no bathroom.
“Mr. Hill, what-” I began to say as I heard him stop just behind me.
Then the door closed with a slam and, before I could turn, I felt the burning, crackling sensation of an electric shock against my spine. My muscles contracted and tensed, and I felt myself letting go. Warm piss soaked my panties and ran down my legs as my whole body trembled, kicked and thrashed. I fell onto the floor.
In the last seconds before I lost consciousness, laying on the cold concrete with my panties soaked, I saw Mr. Hill tuck his taser gun back into his jacket. Then my senses began to dull. Before I could really process what just happened, I blacked out.
Eventually, I woke up. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, so I reached for the pocket of my vest and searched for my phone, only to find it gone. The pee on my panties and legs had started to cool, so I must have been out for a while. Slowly, I looked around. I found that I was still in the same strangely empty building I remembered.
Mr. Carter was sitting on a chair, drinking milk from a tall glass, surrounded by guards with cattle prods dressed in the same white jumpsuits I saw on the packing plant workers. There were four of them and Mr. Hill leaned, arms on his open legs, looking down at me. His suit jacket was hanging on the back of his chair, and his tie had been removed. He had opened the first button of his shirt, and there were just a few strands of his blond hair out of place. I was terrified, but he was still handsome. I was ashamed for thinking it considering he ambushed me.
“Tiffany Thompson, resident of Birch Street, 76-A,” he said, reciting my full name and address. “Former resident of rural Pennsylvania, daughter of Sandra and William Thompson, both deceased, with one older brother, Jake and…”
He continued to list all my personal information. I had no idea how he had gotten any of it, let aloneallof it. It was clear that my cover had been blown, if it ever worked in the first place. Perhaps they knew from the start who I was and lured me there on purpose. Dread rippled through me.
They wouldn’t have shocked me if they planned to turn me in to the police. They could’ve just detained me until the cops arrived. Considering the current situation, they clearly didn’t plan on cutting me loose; I could report them for aggravated assault. That meant there weren’t many options left. I pushed myself up. Carter stopped as he was reciting my social security number.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” he asked when he saw me standing. “Your background was a little harder to track than most, but not by much.”
I placed my hands in front of myself and refused to answer, looking around and wondering if I could make a run for the door past the guards. A vain hope. I was many things, but I wasn’t fast. My chances of escaping by running were null, even before I considered the tall fence around the whole facility. Carter did not take my silence well. He made a gesture and one of the guards stepped in and shocked me with the cattle prod. I collapsed to the floor with a yelp.
Even after the prod was pulled away, I was left shivering in my own terror and pain. I couldn’t remember a moment in my life when I felt more humiliated or vulnerable. I was helpless to fight these men. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough, wasn’tenough, and I could only blame myself for coming inhere thinking I had it all under control. I sobbed uncontrollably. Carter didn’t even seem to have a shred of mercy.
“Enough with the crying, it won’t help you,” he said with clinical indifference. “I want you to undress.”
I froze in place, lifting my head incredulously to look into his bright blue eyes. I expected to find them full of sadistic pleasure or cruelty, or some sort of twisted lust. What I found instead was more terrifying than any of that. They were empty. His face betrayed no emotion; there was no sign of anger or his warmth shown before. He didn’t look at me with pity, or lust, or rage, or disgust. He looked at me like one might look at the tiles on the bathroom wall while taking an absent-minded shit. It barely seemed like he saw me.
“W-what? No! I won’t!” I said firmly, or the closest thing to firm that I could manage.
Carter gestured again. The guard standing next to me jabbed the prod into the side of my thigh and pressed the button. Electricity arched through my veins, and my back pushed out, my legs spammed and kicked as I felt my whole body vibrate. I cried out in pain, but just for a second before my throat contracted too much from the shock. If I hadn’t peed already, I would’ve pissed myself again for sure. When the shock stopped coursing through me, I still felt aftershocks.
“Let me rephrase my request, Miss Thompson. Actually, do you mind if I call you Tiffany?” he asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, Tiffany, you’re filthy. You are an absolute piss-soaked mess. Urine, dirt, and floor grime coat you. Your clothes are especially bad. So, let’s start by you undressing.”
He wasn’t kidding, and I knew he wouldn’t relent. Refusing to do what he ordered would only get me shocked again. And again.
No matter how brave a face I put on, the end result would still be the same; I would end up doing what he wanted. I wouldcrack, sooner or later. Jason would miss me eventually, realizing I hadn’t reached out. Hopefully, he’d call the police to look for me. But I doubted I could endure shocks until that happened. For now, my only option was to play along.
