By Cutieboy90
Come to the farm, they said.
The fresh air will do you some good, they said.
“And why the hell did I listen!?” Mitch huffed his annoyance through the wad of socks taped in his mouth. His breath visibly steamed in the crisp morning air. He glared watching each breath form and dissipate.
Mitch was pigtied with his wrists tied to his ankles in front of him. It forced him to curl up on himself and had quickly grown uncomfortable. The cold, hard ground he was sitting on didn’t help matters either. For now, Mitch rolled onto his back and stared up at the clouds. He figured by the light in the sky that he’d been bound for a few hours…
He’d been wearing boots, Carhartt overalls, gloves, a heavy coat, and a few layers of shirts expecting to be doing some farm work. Now all those rugged clothes hindered any chance he might have had to escape. The thick leather work gloves, for example, now as restrictive as any fistmitts he’d ever worn. His thermal undershirt squeezed his chest, pressing his piercings against his nips. Wired as they were, the irritation only served to make Mitch hornier and more frustrated than he already was.
Fall was in the air this morning as Josh and Alex left their truck at the trailhead, gravel crunching under their boots. Early morning dewdrops still clung to the foliage and spider webs, and fog still obscured the treetops.
