Amity didn’t expect to get used to her new life. She didn’t want to get used to her new life. But the thing about life is, it tends to happen whether you want it to or not. After a few days of waking up in her new bed, eating Sophia’s cooking, chatting with Luna, watching Rosie... it was all starting to feel surprisingly normal.
Because she was still recovering from her injuries, the rest of the family didn’t demand that Amity start doing chores right away. But even so, she spent a lot of the first few days shadowing the family members, following them around and learning the basic ropes of what was done on “the farm,” as they called the little plot of land in the middle of the woods.
Luna demonstrated how the garden was organized and how to tend the chickens, Sophia asked after her interest and skill in cooking, and showed her where all the cleaning supplies were kept. Even Rosie took her on tours of the property and showed her which wild plants would bear fruit in the spring.
The only person who didn’t seem eager to welcome her to the house was Charlotte, for which Amity was frankly grateful. Although she saw the hateful young woman every morning at breakfast and every evening for dinner, in between she seemed to make herself surprisingly scarce. Amity certainly wasn’t going to complain, even if she did find herself growing slightly resentful as everyone else did chores and the young woman was nowhere to be seen.
“So, is Charlotte just a free-loader?” she asked Luna on the fourth day, as they sat next to each other on the couch and folded the laundry.
“Hm?” Luna looked over at her, distracted for the moment from her own thoughts. It had taken her a couple days to recover from the werewolf’s attentions as well, but now she was back to what were presumably her regular duties. Amity was slightly in awe of how quickly she’d bounced back; even now, Amity herself still felt quite sore from the combination of that encounter and the previous one and had trouble sitting on surfaces less soft than the couch.
“Oh,” Luna said, understanding, “you mean because she’s not here helping us? No, it’s not like that.” She set aside one of Sophia’s sundresses to be hung up in a closet later. “Charlotte apprentices with Matilda in the workshop. She’s helping to create an income for us.”
“Her work is really quite good,” Sophia remarked from where she was standing in the kitchen nearby, canning some of the produce from the garden. “She’s become very skilled with the lathe, from what Matilda tells me. Does a lot of chair legs and bed posts, that kind of thing.”
“Woodworking?” for once, Amity found herself genuinely curious. “Sounds like fun.”
“If you’re interested in trying it out for yourself, I can talk to Matilda about it,” Sophia suggested.
Amity mentally weighed the promise of learning woodworking—which did actually sound like a pretty fun time, especially compared to cooking and cleaning—with the potential downside of regularly running into Charlotte. It was a tough trade-off. But eventually her curiosity got the better of her. “Okay, yeah, sure, why not? I could at least try it, I guess.”
“Wonderful!” said Sophia, apparently delighted that Amity was showing genuine interest in something for the first time since her arrival. “Matilda was just saying that she could use an extra hand in the shop.”
She was as good as her word, and broached the subject early the next morning at the breakfast table. Matilda gave Amity an evaluating look as she took a bite of her eggs. It was still hard for Amity to read her, but she thought maybe she looked pleased at the interest. She nodded thoughtfully. "Alright then," she said eventually. "Won't hurt to give it a shot."
And so Amity found herself heading out to the property’s old barn, trailing in Matilda’s wake like a duckling after its mother. Charlotte came as well, following a little farther behind. She’d been glaring skeptically at Amity ever since Matilda had agreed to show her the shop.
When they arrived, Matilda went to the wall and grabbed a pair of car keys from a hook by the door. Turning back, she tossed them towards Charlotte, who was startled but caught them.
“Why don’t you take the goods into town today?” Matilda suggested. “All the contracts are already signed, so all that’s left is the delivery. You can load up the truck and do the rounds.”
“By myself?” Charlotte asked, surprised.
“Sure,” said Matilda. “You know by now what needs to go where. Manifest is in the cabin of the truck, so you can check everything off as you go. It’ll give me time to give Amity a proper tour, without needing to work around you.”
Charlotte threw a dirty look at Amity, but then sniffed and balled her fist around the keys. “Fine,” she said haughtily. “I’d rather not be around to see the blood when she inevitably saws one of her fingers off, anyway.” And with that she turned around and flounced out, headed towards the small storage shed next to the barn where presumably the finished furniture was kept. Amity watched her leave with a feeling of distaste.
“Alright,” said Matilda, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get started. What do you already know about woodworking?”
Amity’s gaze roamed the workshop. There was a lot of heavy machinery, some of which she recognized and some she didn’t; a lathe, several different kinds of saws both handheld and mechanical, some kind of machine with a large drill bit on the end, and a few others. “Nothing about most of this,” she admitted. “I’ve done a bunch of whittling in my spare time. Nothing really advanced, but I’ve carved, like, a duck and a little cat.” She’d been working her way up to a horse, but that somehow felt embarrassing to admit.
“Excellent!” Matilda said, surprising her. “That’s a good place to start. Honestly, hand-carving is a lot harder than using most of the machines. Takes a lot more precision and skill. I’ve been doing all that handwork myself, since Charlotte doesn’t really have much of a knack for it. Maybe you can learn to help out with that.”
And so Matilda spent the rest of the day showing her the ropes of the workshop, introducing her to the machines and laying out the important safety precautions of each. After they broke for lunch, Matilda asked to see her carve something, so Amity did her best to rough out the crude figure of a dog. Once she was satisfied that Amity wasn’t going to hurt herself with the knife, Matilda went back to work around the shop and tinkered around with other projects while Amity continued to carve.
By the time the crunch of gravel signalled the return of Charlotte in the truck, Amity had a decently well-shaped little dog figurine. Most of it was only roughed out, but she’d worked diligently to put a lot of detail into the face, to demonstrate her skill level. When Matilda came around to check on it, she seemed impressed.
“Excellent job for an amateur!” she praised. It had grown dark, and the barn was illuminated by harshly bright yellow worklights mounted along the walls. “I think you’ve got some real talent for this. Let’s keep you working with us out here, if you’re interested. I think the other three have enough hands to manage the house. We can get you up to speed with the woodworking in no time.”
Amity flushed. “Sure, that’s- that could be fun.” It felt surprisingly good to be praised, even though she didn’t want it to. Her own parents had never been particularly affectionate, even before she’d come out to them and gotten kicked out of the house, and she’d always been fairly mediocre at school work, not particularly standing out. To hear an adult earnestly tell her she’d done a good job was flattering, and filled her with a sense of warmth. She almost didn’t notice Charlotte's renewed glare as she came back into the barn and hung the truck keys back on the hook.
“Still have all your limbs?” she asked acidly. “How surprising.” She turned back to Matilda, straightening up and projecting a mature confidence. “I got everything delivered except the dresser for the Jeffersons,” she reported. “They weren’t home when they said they would be, and I didn’t want to leave it outside to just sit there and get rained on or crapped on by birds or anything.”
Matilda rolled her eyes. “Flakes. That’s nothing new; the day we get a delivery to them first try is the day you can go to hell for a refreshing iced lemonade. That’s fine. You unload it back into the shed?”
“Sure did,” Charlotte confirmed. “You all done here for the day? Done letting the new girl play with the big kid toys?”
Matilda’s expression betrayed none of her inner thoughts. “Actually, she’ll be working with us in the barn from now on. I want to train her up on some of the different tasks so she can help out.”
Charlotte looked like she’d just bitten down on a lemon. She glared daggers at Amity. Then she shrugged, trying to brush off her obvious distaste with nonchalance. “If that’s what you think is best, I suppose.”
She turned around and stalked out of the room, leaving Matilda and Amity alone. Amity startled as a hand came to rest on her shoulder; she hadn’t heard Matilda approach behind her. The older woman smiled down at her, the expression tugging at the tight edges of her scars. “Come on,” she said companionably, “let’s go see what Sophia’s gotten up to for dinner.”
And so Amity’s job became furniture crafting. It was surprisingly fulfilling; there were a wide variety of tasks to accomplish, so she was never bored, and it felt surprisingly good to work with her hands. It almost got to the point where she forgot the nature of the situation she was in.
Almost. She still kept her escape plans in the back of her head, using each day to note the habitual movements of the family, their schedules and preferences. She mentally catalogued every item in the house and workshop that might aid her eventual flight, and explored the perimeter of the grounds each day under the guise of taking a light walking break in order to see what her best routes were. All she had to do was make it back to civilization, and then she could find someone who would protect her. The police, perhaps, although she knew she'd have to be careful dealing with them. She’d catch a bus out of state if she had to; anything was better than living in perpetual fear of what might be done to her, or listening to the soft moans and squelches that filled the house at night as its various inhabitants satisfied their lust on both willing and unwilling participants.
The only downside to working in the barn was Charlotte. Her antipathy towards Amity showed no signs of easing up. She thankfully knew better than to try to trip Amity around the saws or do anything else that would be physically dangerous, at least while Matilda was around and watching. But that didn’t stop her from nagging Amity at every turn, nitpicking all her work, and just generally doing her best to get under Amity’s skin. Amity fancied herself pretty resistant to that kind of bitchiness, but even so Charlotte was really starting to wear her thin.
Of course, such things had to boil over eventually.
It was a Sunday, which meant they had the day off; they closed the shop on weekends, Matilda had informed her, to give themselves a break and to comply with certain labor laws. It was a decently warm and sunny afternoon for how late in the year it was, and so Matilda had taken Rosie out into town to grab some ice cream. It wasn’t the worst time to try her escape plan, but Amity was holding out for something a little better; she was pretty sure that she would be able to find a day that lined up where at least Matilda and Charlotte or Matilda and Sophia would be gone at the same time, leaving her with far fewer people to try to evade.
Still, she felt like she should do some kind of reconnaissance at least. Waste not, want not. Once more, Amity found herself pacing the edges of the property, peering into the woods and trying to judge the best escape route. Was it worth taking the main road, to avoid getting lost? Or would that just get her caught all the more easily? Should she try to hide somewhere in the woods? Or would Matilda be able to track her?
She didn’t hear Charlotte coming until the young woman was right behind her, too late to stop the arms from wrapping around her torso, pinning her in place and coming to rest on her breasts, squeezing them viciously. A firm rod came to nestle between her legs; when she looked down, Amity could see the head and a few additional inches of the enormous strap-on phallus that she’d seen Charlotte use on Luna before poking out between her thighs.
“Well well, what have we here?” Charlotte murmured in her ear before sliding her tongue along the shell of it. “Looks like the little lamb got caught out from the herd without a sheepdog. You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that New Girl? I think it’s only fair I be a pain in yours in return.” She thrust her hips forward suggestively, rubbing the artificial phallus between Amity’s clothed thighs.
“Shut the fuck up,” Amity growled, even as she squirmed in Charlotte’s hold. The woman was surprisingly well-muscled from all her heavy labor at Matilda’s side, and kept her grip easily. “You’re so fucking full of it. You’re just a bully. You think just because you can push sex on people who don’t want it, that somehow makes you strong? What a joke. Am I supposed to be afraid of you? You think you’re some kind of Big Bad Wolf? You act like Matilda already gave you the power, even though you haven’t earned it at all.”
“Oh?” Charlotte whispered, her voice acid. “And what, you think she’s going to give it to you instead? What a joke. You just got here. I think someone needs to shut you up and teach you your place. Let’s see if we can’t stop you running that pretty little mouth of yours.”
Charlotte released her hold, but only in order to grab Amity by the hair, yanking it painfully and making her cry out. With her surprising strength she pulled Amity’s head backwards and forced her down onto her knees on the grass. Then, before Amity had a chance to get her bearings at all, she grabbed the girl’s head in both hands and forced the enormous purple phallus into her mouth.
Amity choked; the dildo was massive, far too large to be accommodated comfortably. She felt her jaw lock as it was forced as wide open as it would go to allow the penetration by Charlotte’s sex toy. The older girl didn’t hesitate at all in her motions, continuing from Amity’s mouth down into her throat, stuffing her full of far more of the toy than she could possibly handle. Even completely choking her, she was barely able to house half of the member. Amity struggled to breathe, seeing stars as Charlotte began to mercilessly fuck her face.
She tried to squirm away, but Charlotte was far too strong and kept one hand painfully fisted in her hair as she plundered Amity’s mouth. She tried to protest, but the muffled sound was lost amidst the wet squishing noise of Charlotte’s thrusts and her triumphant taunting.
“That’s more like it,” Charlotte teased viciously. “You’re much more suited for something like this. This is the job you should have. You’re not worthy to work with me and Matilda. You should just be on your knees all day, slurping up all the girls, begging us to have mercy and fuck you proper like the slut you are. Sound good, huh?”
Amity felt tears prickle in the corners of her eyes, but it was not humiliation; it was all pain and rage. Her head swam as Charlotte continued to deprive her of oxygen, forcing her to swallow down the silicone phallus again and again.
Charlotte was wearing a mini-skirt, Amity saw past the stars in her vision, that tented obscenely over the strap-on. The scant fabric wouldn’t have fully covered the thing even if it wasn’t currently shoved down Amity’s throat. Beneath the skirt was the harness-like pair of black underwear that the strap-on was attached to, the same ones that Amity had seen her wearing whenever she raped Luna. This close up, Amity could see that Charlotte’s thighs were dripping; she was leaking slick out from the panties, clearly turned on by the violence she was performing.
‘Well,’ Amity thought viciously, ‘two can play at that game.’
Forcing her mind back into focus and steeling herself to move quickly, Amity braced herself on her knees, shifting her weight entirely off of her hands. Then, in one single fluid motion she grabbed the underside of Charlotte’s panties in one hand and pulled them to the side, taking her other hand and shoving the entire thing unceremoniously up Charlotte’s pussy.
Charlotte gave a whimpery little gasp. Her thrusts stuttered and halted. Her hand tightened sharply in Amity’s hair, yanking it. “What do you think you’re doing, you little bitch?” she squealed.
Unable to reply with the sex-toy still embedded deep down her gullet, Amity instead pulled her hand back slightly and then lurched forward with it, forcing it back in. She began to fuck Charlotte with her fist, making an effort to find a similar bruising rhythm to the one Charlotte had been using on her. ‘See how you like it,’ she thought bitterly.
She expected Charlotte to pull back, to yank the fake cock out of her mouth and retreat, maybe kick her while she was down. Instead, Charlotte shuddered and resumed her own thrusts, continuing to fuck Amity’s face. Amity felt the muscles of Charlotte’s orifice contract around her wrist.
‘Fuck,’ she though, ‘is she getting off on this?’
She risked a glance upward. It was difficult to see properly from this angle, but she could tell that Charlotte’s face was more flushed than it had ever been before. So she was at least embarrassed. Ashamed? Somehow, Amity felt the distinct sensation that she had the upper hand.
She pressed her advantage for all it was worth. She raised her other hand and ran it through the slick runoff from Charlotte’s pussy, then reached further back. It was a tough angle, but she managed to slide two fingers up Charlotte’s ass even as she continued to fist her wet hole in front.
Once again, Charlotte’s thrusts stuttered to a stop. Amity leaned forward, pushing her head down on the artificial phallus and jamming it against the harness where her clit must be hidden behind the black fabric. She was rewarded by Charlotte crying out. Her protests and criticisms had completely stopped. Even the hand in Amity’s hair felt more desperate now than cruel. Amity increased the rhythm of her thrusts, rocking both hands in and out of her at a breakneck pace. She added a third finger to Charlotte’s ass and pushed her fist into Charlotte almost halfway up her arm.
With a shout, Charlotte came. Amity felt her muscles spasm and twitch around the arm embedded inside her, wracking her body and clenching like she never wanted to let go. The same was true in the back as her fingers were strangled by the sudden tight pressure of Charlotte’s orgasm.
She came for a long time, her nerves firing again and again, holding her rigid. When it ended she abruptly went boneless, sliding out of Amity’s mouth and collapsing backwards, down onto her ankles. Her expression was shellshocked.
Amity stood, triumphant, wiping the spit from her chin. “Fuck off, bitch,” she growled, and headed back towards the house before Charlotte could collect herself enough to follow.