Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (11 page)

The Munich team,
pretending to be an oompah band, had brought several large cases and even a
trunk, designed to hold a full sized tuba, aboard and with the help of the
train conductor, they eased the boxes into the compartment, used the tools and
devices on her for the entire night, then jammed the exhausted ‘girl ball’ into
the trunk’s foam-lined interior and sealed her in, just as the train was
slowing for its Amsterdam arrival. Peter inserted two small clear plastic hoses
into the Lucy’s nostrils through the nose opening on the hood. These hoses
connected to the outside of the trunk, and so Lucy got a little bit of the
warm, dry air that circulated about the box as she was moved out into the aisle
and then through the train door, carefully lifted to the platform and put on a
wheeled cart. She whimpered, whined and screamed silent screams as the cart
trundled down the cold platform, sucking cool air into her compacted body,
praying that they’d let her out quickly when they got to where ever they were
going.

Instead of going
to the luxury hotel, the truck from the train station took her directly to the
small warehouse outside the city, where she was off-loaded, cleaned up, and
rebound in a leather body sleeve with a myriad of straps that restrained all of
her limbs in a somewhat more comfortable, but similarly restrictive manner as
the net she had been contained in. Her arms were strapped tightly to her sides,
then straps were tightened and cinched around her ankles, above and below her
knees, at mid thigh, waist, and finally, above and below her breasts. She again
suffered the confinement of the double hoods, first in leather and then in
skull compressing latex. Water and air were provided through holes in the
hoods. Her body apertures were thoroughly plugged. Her Ears, eyes, mouth,
vagina and rear were all plugged and covered so that she was a, soundless,
blind, deaf and impaled statute, sealed in leather and latex for distant
transport. Somewhat repackaged. Sealed in a larger crate, Lucy got an overnight
flight west to Mistress Prudence’s estate in upstate New York. And that was how
she got to be where she was now, waiting once again for someone to do something
more terrible, more evil, to her. She didn’t know that she had screwed up Ms.
Prudence’s plans. She didn’t know that she was now going back to the cell, to
be chained to the wall again, with hands pulled up behind her back, securely
attached to the back of her collar/breast harness, while the body piercings
they’d just put into her were given a chance to heal. She was going to have her
feet again chained closely together and her knees bound with the two tight
metal straps, a the single chain link between them. She’d stand or sit in the
cell, gagged except for meal times, sitting twice a day on the horrible chamber
pot they’d plop her on. She’d wait and wonder. She wouldn’t know, because no one
was going to tell her, that she was P Product 1289-36DD-22-34-1299 and she was
headed for a small riding school in Vermont. She didn’t know much of anything
about her future, but she would soon find out.

Arrival

The hydraulic
probe that had been endlessly fucking Dori finally stopped its jabbing, its
pumping, its twirling. Dori was exhausted. The night too had seemed endless.
She was dry. Her cunt was dry. She hung in her bonds, sagging, worn out, sound
asleep, the prong still embedded in her dried, crusty crotch. Dried sweat
crusted along her sides, salty streams marked down the sides of her hanging
breasts and thighs. Her night in the barn had been an event like so many others
she experienced in the school. There was always something new around the
corner, always something different that she never, ever thought about before.
Things sexual, things erotic, things painful and tiring, but regardless of the
discomfort, Dori knew that she was now part of something that she always wanted
and something she now wanted to go on and on. As the computer-governed fucker
reamed her endlessly all night, Dori had, in moments of occasional lucidity,
thought that this was an experience she could endure forever. Now, half asleep,
she saw daylight coming into the windows in the barn and she wondered what
would happen today.

She heard the
truck drive up outside and she felt the blast of cold air as the barn doors
were unlocked and held open while a small hand truck was wheeled inside and
positioned at the doorway to the stall next to hers. She saw the large
metal-strapped container and she wondered what was in it. Of course, in the
back of her mind, she knew. She knew that inside was another pony girl and so
she wasn’t surprised to see that when the grooms unlocked and opened the front
of the box, it held the leather-bound form of another twenty-something girl
like herself, stuffed between the foam surfaces of the trunk, secured by a
dozen heavy straps and metal clamps. The girl’s small head was sealed in a black,
padded hood with three plastic tubes sticking awkwardly out at odd angles as
they were disconnected from the air vents and the water bottle. The girl
tumbled out as the bonds were released, but there was very little movement in
the obviously exhausted form. Dori watched curiously to see what they were
going to do to this poor little thing that looked as if she’d been in the trunk
for days.

Lucy had, in
fact, only been in the box since Ms. Prudence’s crew repackaged her in New York
the day before, but she was still, in many respects, suffering from extreme jet
lag bondage and had really not been her normal smart-assed self since the gang
started on her in Rosenheim, Germany, many days before. The ride to the airport
from the warehouse in Amsterdam, her third chapter in the long journey tale,
had been relatively easy. At the warehouse, they bathed her and shaved the key
parts of her body, hydrated and fed her and allowed her to sleep for three
uneventful nights in a decent bed, with her hands and feet in soft hospital
restraints. The trans-Atlantic flight had been terrible. Bound in a large body
crate, she suffered for hours as the plane was buffeted by strong air
turbulence in dealing with a bad headwind. Arriving late at New York’s JFK
International Airport, the crate and Lucy was further delayed at customs.
Finally released to a bonded customs broker retained by Ms. Prudence, the crate
and Lucy made another long overland journey to a small town in upstate New York
where she was again released, serviced and then accidentally repackaged. As the
object of Ms. Prudence’s outraged discovery of her being mislabeled, Lucy went
through additional P processing, had more holes pierced in her body and endured
more days of bound discomfort. Finally shipped to the school in yet another
body crate, she was again in a semi-conscious state as the grooms unbound her
limp form. They carefully removed the hated helmet and Dori saw the deep
impressions in the girl’s pallid face, made by the sealed leather cocoon that
had held her small head for so many long hours. They removed the tape from her
eyes and mouth and the sopping gag from her mouth, evoking only a mild groan
from the stretched white lips. Warm tea was offered and almost poured into the
sagging mouth and another groan, a terrible, pained sound, came from little
Lucy as the tea went down her parched throat. The grooms removed all bonds and
carried the limp girl into the stall where Dori could not see, although she
could hear the chains they attached to the girl’s limbs. They didn’t put a gag
or bit into the hurt mouth, but they closed and locked all parts of the stall
door and moved off to other parts of the barn while the girl passed into a
tormented sleep. Dori tried to stretch and move in her own confinement. Who was
the new girl next door and where had she come from, Dori wondered?

Swineland

The last, lowest
and most dreaded stop in the training cycle at the school was the low lying
area on the edge of the woods where there were four one-story wooden buildings
constructed many years ago and nearly hidden by the overhanging limbs of the
ancient oak and maple trees. This was a place to be avoided at all costs and
the students knew enough about it to almost always reform whatever
objectionable habits they had with the threat of being sent here, to this
horrid destination of no return. The land around the buildings was devoid of
any other vegetation, the ground being in a constant state of either deep mud
and rocks or bound in a hard, icy freeze. When spring brought the thaw, these
barren fields were the last to soften up. By late spring they were a sea of
ooze and in the summer, if there was little rain, they were dry and dusty. The
only sounds heard in the area were the grunts of the farm animals kept in the
rundown enclosures. These were not ordinary farm animals. They were the
cast-offs from the horse and dairy operations; animals that failed to learn the
correct equitation skills or had been unproductive as dairy cattle. They lived
in filth, carried on as lower forms of animal life do and were treated
accordingly. All wore heavy metal collars riveted around their dirty necks.
They also were equipped with another strong metal band that encircled their
head and held a large, fat metal gag in their mouth. The gags had permanent
center holes with short metal tubes that allowed the hogs to suck up whatever
they found that looked edible, including the mush that was the mainstay of
their low calorie, high protein diet. Their heads were shaved, their ears remained
pierced and held heavy metal rings, as did their breasts and lower lips. The
collars connected to long steel chains that were attached to posts in the
ground. After arrival at the Hog Farm, each resident learned that she would
have to find a dry space in one of the buildings to sleep in. With the mass of
swine, the chains often got tangled up and chaos prevailed while these
collared, naked, gagged female pigs struggled with each other, fighting over
the few choice dry warm spots in the dilapidated sheds. They slept, slurped
their food, farted, pissed and shit in the same muddy fields, dragging their
chains behind them, snorting and moaning at each other or at nothing at all. It
was the end of the world for these young animals. There was nothing lower.

Amy Winsor was a
swine. She had arrived a year before, ready for the equestrian school and full
of urban distain for anything that wasn’t quite what she thought it should be.
Day by day, week by week, she managed to violate each of the rules, annoy and frustrate
each of her coaches and her peers. She suffered the worst that the Head
Mistress could provide and still she hadn’t improved, nor learned. She was
finally taken to the dairy where her small, hard, sharply pointed breasts had
been stretched and expanded by the constant milking. Still she resisted. When
she bit a farm hand in the dairy barn, that was the end of it. Whipped from
neck to ankle, she was carted off to the Hog Hollow to spend the rest of her
life as a swine. Living in squalor and shit, Amy fought even as the collar and
meal gag were welded to her head. So disruptive had she been that her feet were
shackled with a short chain hobble and her wrists were chained behind her as
well. Thus disabled, she was left to fare for herself among the two dozen other
female pigs in the main building. Amy awoke the next morning, hurting from the
flogging, but quickly aware of the three other female piglets who were
doing
her
where she lay on the concrete slab by the water trough.
Doing her
was an understatement. One
larger swine sat on Amy’s gagged face, rubbing the tube of the girl’s metal gag
in and out of her vagina. The second pig was lying on Amy’s chest, jabbing her
own feeding tube into Amy’s right nipple, which still bore the heavy ring from
the dairy. Piglet number three was reaming her feeding tube into Amy’s cunt.
She had creatively enhanced the short tube by jamming a wooden stick that had
fallen from one of the overhead trees, into the open end of the tube. The stick
and tube were well up inside the struggling new pig. Amy fought and struggled,
but the three old timers were well accustomed to how these new pigs fought and
they held her easily until all were happily satisfied with their work. When
they finished, they left Amy on the slab, knees spread wide, head lolling to
one side, her cuffed hands crushed numb beneath her.

Miss Marcy
Neidler was the official Keeper of the Sow Pens. By direction of the Head
Mistress she kept her charges in three categories: Piglet, Junior Sow and
Senior Sow. Ms. Neidler had created a fourth category of her own which the Head
had not exactly rejected out of hand, though she had also not accepted either:
Bacon. In Marcy’s own words, “no one here eats Bacon unless they ask me first.”
The Juniors were new sow, brought in either directly from the horse farm or
from the dairy. In either case, they had failed a semester or two or three and
were considered to be beyond the reach of usual training methods. Consigned
indefinitely as sow, these poor little souls always arrived in the same
sad-assed condition. They had been stripped, totally depilated, (including
having their heads shaved), chained at least at the neck and flogged
thoroughly. If any of these characteristics was missing, Ms. Neidler quickly
saw to it that this was remedied at once. The sows were brought to her office
in the main pig building. This facility didn’t exist on any plans or maps of
the farm. It was, in fact, underground, which fit its function since the sow
were generally so dirty and caked in mud or dust that they might as well have
lived underground anyway. Marcy kept her office spit polish clean. Not a speck
of dirt or dust was allowed to remain for more time than was absolutely
necessary and this made visitations from her new charges an interesting affair.
When Amy arrived in the usual white van, she was hustled down the flight of
concrete steps, her hobbled feet dragging along and the cement neatly filing
down her toenails as she was dragged along. She was not, as yet, properly
outfitted for the Pig Pens. She was bit-gagged and her hands were cuffed behind
her. She wore no collar. The attendants took her to the bottom of the stairs
then rang the bell. Neidler’s number two answered the door promptly and ordered
the three to enter the side door, not the one for the office. There the guards
deposited their charge and then turned and started to leave.

“Wait,” muttered
Cynthia Hoyt, the number two. “You should watch this. It’s good for you to see
how this works,” she said pointing to the overhead showerheads. “Stand over
there and observe the new shower system. We just put it in.”

The guards
stepped through another door in the shower room and then turned to watch
through the one-way window.

Hoyt also left
the tiled room and moved to a control console on the wall opposite the window.
Amy lay on the smooth tiled floor, groaning and moving only slightly, the red
whip weals on her back, thighs and calves still swelling from her most recent
flogging. Hoyt turned a few knobs and flipped a switch and the shower room suddenly
filled with a sheet of water, strong jets coming from all directions. Amy was
buffeted by the spray, rolling to and fro on the slippery floor, the water
soaking and scrubbing her from every direction.

“First nice and
hot,” shouted Hoyt. “Then, cold,” she said turning the knobs again. She waited
until Amy received another total dousing from the walls of water, then she
turned the knobs again, “…and now freezing, just to make sure she’s wide
awake.” Hoyt smiled as she applied the temperature control, sending gallons of
recycled ice water into the shower room. The chained girl almost jumped off the
slick floor as the new jets of frigid water hit her. Silent until now, she
shrieked and screamed in the water chamber as Hoyt manipulated the shower jets
to move her from one side of the room to the other and back, so fierce was the
power of the water jets. After a few more seconds, she shut them off, and Amy
lay unmoving at the side of the chilled room.

“We’ll take her
from here,” Hoyt said to the guards, who quickly left, fled up the stairs and
jumped into their warm van.

“Now, Miss Amy,
let’s see what you might need,” said Hoyt as she entered the cold chamber,
carrying the usual “goodie bag” in her left hand.

Amy offered no
resistance as Hoyt carefully measured the girl’s various dimensions and then,
rummaging around in the bag, produced a set of steel manacles with which she
replaced the handcuffs, and another set of steel shackles for the girl’s feet.

“Now, Piggy,
come with me,” she said as she hoisted the girl to her feet and led her out of
the chamber and down the hall to the office where Neidler awaited the new
inmate.

Neidler was
leaning back in her upholstered swivel chair, her rubber-booted feet on top of
the old mahogany desk, reading a paperback when the knock on the door got her
attention. She put the book down, adjusted the short hem of her tight leather
skirt so that anyone in front of her desk would have a good view of her
pantiless crack and said, “Enter.”

Hoyt and her
shuffling charge entered the room.

“Stand still,”
breathed Hoyt into Amy’s dripping ear. The girl still shivered from the
freezing bath and the walk through the cold corridor. The shivering was also in
fear of what was to come. Resistant to the ways of the farm, Amy nevertheless had
heard enough in rumors and threats about the Pig Pens to know that she was
about to enter a totally different kind of training.

“Amy,” said
Neidler, looking straight into the panicked blue eyes of the girl. “You have
got a lot of learning to do, and this is the place. You will learn or you will
never leave. Your family already has written you off. The unfortunate horse
accident two months ago ended your existence as far as anyone knows. You are
mine now. I will see that you learn how to be a good, useful sow. If you fail
here there is nowhere else to go. You stay here forever. You will find that
this is not the place to be. You are a pig in every way. You will not speak
because you cannot. You will grunt. You will roll and lie in the mud or the
summer dust because that’s all there is. You will have a pen to stay in when
you are not out in the yard doing piggy things. You are a Junior Sow. If you do
well, you will move up to Senior Sow and get a concrete stall to sleep and rest
in. If you do not measure up to Senior, you will stay Junior Sow forever. If we
like you, as a good fuck, you will become a piglet, open for all to use. Let me
assure you, you do not want to become a piglet. Piglets do nothing but fuck,
day and night. Everyone gets to use piglets. Your cunt, your ass, your mouth,
your nose, your ears. Piglets have a very sexy, short life. You understand?”

Amy nodded her
bald little head.

“Good,” said
Neidler. “Gag and collar her.”

“Yes Miss N,”
Hoyt said, producing a heavy metal collar and matching gag. “Step over here,”
she ordered the girl. “Put you head on this anvil.” Amy shuffled over to the
chromed anvil standing at the side of the room. It was surrounded by metal bins
of materials, leather goods and rubber implements.

“Put your head
here,” repeated Hoyt, pointing to the top of the anvil. Amy bent and lowered
her head to the cold anvil surface while Hoyt fastened the hinged collar around
her neck. Steel rivets were inserted into the collar and Hoyt hammered them
home with a heavy mallet, swinging close to the girl’s ear and pounding the
rivets flat.

“Open your
mouth,” was the next order. Amy wearily complied. Hoyt took hold of the girl’s
lower jaw and inserted a metal pear-shaped gag into the open mouth. The outer
surface of the gag was rubber-coated and there were small grooves in the shape
where the girl’s teeth fit neatly. The gag went in, leaving a horizontal band
at the front, outside the teeth and between the lips. Through this band a short
metal tube extended for two inches. The tube was a half inch in diameter and
extended through the gag, allowing air and food to be sucked in by the wearer.

“This tube,”
said Hoyt and she adjusted the next part of the gag, “is how you eat and drink.
Don’t get it clogged up or you may starve. Don’t inhale through it or you may
choke. Understand, Sow?”

The tired little
head nodded, still perched on the anvil top. Hoyt now placed a hinged metal
band around the girl’s head, locking the front into a fitting around the gag
tube. The band had a simple hasp at the back and this locked with a padlock,
tightly sealing the gag into Amy’s stretched little mouth.

“From now on,
there’ll be no talking, eh Marcy,” Hoyt said as she checked the padlock and
nodded towards Neidler who spread her legs a bit wider on the desk and watched
the scene with interest.

“Bring her
here,” Neidler said, pushing the chair back and moving her legs off the desk.
“Fit her with this,” she said as Hoyt and the girl shuffled over to the back of
the desk.

“Here. Now?”
said Hoyt incredulously. “Have we got time?”

“We’ve got all
the time in the piggy world,” muttered Neidler as she put her hands on Amy’s
shining bald head and pushed the girl down into a kneeling position, directly
in front of her. Grabbing hold of the gag band, Neidler took the large rubber
dildo she had removed from her desk drawer and fitted it over Amy’s gag tube.
Obviously designed for just such a purpose, the rubber dong now extended some
six inches in front of the reluctant girl’s face. Neidler parted her narrow,
smooth thighs and pushed the girl’s head between them. This was not Amy’s first
such experience and she was too tired to resist. She slowly pushed her extended
probe into the cleft in front of her and began doing the best she could while
Neidler leaned back in the chair and said something Amy couldn’t hear because
her ears were covered by Marcy’s inner thighs. Out of the corner of her eye she
saw Hoyt move around to a position behind Neidler and lean over and kiss the
lovely Keeper of the Sow Pens. Hoyt’s hands came up and unbuttoned Marcy’s
uniform shirt, exposing the white low cut bra and pushing Marcy’s smooth
breasts towards the center and out of the under wired lycra cups. As Amy
continued her work, Marcy moaned and rotated her hips and Hoyt worked on the
Keeper’s nipples. Suddenly Amy felt someone else behind her. Her manacled
wrists were raised pushing her engaged face down and deeper into Neidler’s
crotch and raising Amy’s ass. She straightened her legs and bent further at the
waist as something was pushed into her ass. She could not see and she was
helpless to resist. Neidler’s shaking thighs held her head clamped tightly and
her hands were raised to the point where her shoulders begged for relief. The
cold shaft that assaulted her ass was wet and anxious and relentless. The body
behind her was now in contact with her back and she felt long hair on her
shoulders and hard cold nipples jammed into her shoulder blades. The body
behind her made full contact, the head directly behind hers, shoving her
further and further into Neidler’s steaming cunt while the new assailant’s
stiff prong went further and further up Amy’s ass.