Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (29 page)

      
“No,
please,” the now whimpering Dark Man cried. “If they find out you escaped,
they’ll kill us. Get me to the hospital.”

      
“Too
bad,” said
Bibi
. “Care to see the marks you left on
my ass?”

      
“I’m
sorry. We were just following orders,” said The Blond.

      
“Yeah,
like I haven’t heard that one before,” said
Mickeal
sarcastically.

      
“You’ll
live,”
Bibi
said, looking again at the Dark Man’s leg
and noting that it was no longer bleeding. “But we’ll put you with him on the
pipe. Get other there.”

      
“No,
please, I need a doctor,” Dark Man whined.

      
“If
you don’t get over to the pipe with your comrade right now, you won’t need a
doctor. You’ll be dead,” said
Mickeal
, annoyed at the
delay these two were causing. The Dark Man stood up and dragging his injured
leg, moved towards his pal still cuffed to the heating pipe.
Mickeal
knew he was up to something and started to turn
with his gun leveled in that direction. Suddenly, the window exploded and the
Dark Man fell to the floor, his head spouting a stream of dark blood. He wasn’t
whining any more. He was instantly dead.

      
“Down,”
Mickeal
shouted unnecessarily. But
Bibi
was already on the floor and The Blond, who was
supposed to be cuffed to the pipe, was half way out the front door, running
low.
Mickeal
fired a double tap at him. One of the
bullets hit the door jam a few inches from the man’s retreating back as he
vanished out the door, but
Mickeal
was pretty sure
that the second one hit its target.

      
“Who
the hell was that?”
Mickeal
asked no one in
particular, still crouched against the wall. Outside they heard a shout and
then a car starting up.

      
“Damn,
he’s got my car,”
Mickeal
muttered.

      
“Who
shot this guy?”
Bibi
whispered from under the desk.

      
“Shit,
I don’t know,” hissed
Mickeal
. “But this is getting
complicated.”

Hang 10

      
“Well,
here we are,” said Fabian. “I just know you’re going to love this place. It’s
much cleaner and warmer than where you recently spent your training time and
certainly more hospitable than that grubby horse farm in The States.”

      
Lucy
listened to Fabian, wishing that she could see what he was talking about and
that she could get out of this grossly uncomfortable tree device that she was
still bound to. All parts of her body hurt: her captive wrists, neck and ankles
all throbbed from the metal cuffs. After more than a day in the travel case,
she was again bound to the metal tree. Her poor stuffed mouth ached from the
distortion of the gag and other areas were still hurting from the cart pulling
and torture regimen of the mine. Those thoughts reminded her that things could
and most likely would get worse.

      
Loading
her onto a two-wheeled handcart, Fabian rolled Lucy along a smooth floor into
what sounded, by the echoes, like a very large room. Maybe, Lucy thought, an
airplane hangar. She heard fans or blowers of some sort, which seemed to be
spreading warm, extremely humid air. She heard what sounded like gentle rain
somewhere far off in the building. She smelled plants and dirt. She waited.

      
Fabian
set her down on the floor with her back on a cool, smooth surface and began to
unfasten her bindings from the tree. He took her wrists from the cuffs and
pulled them behind her back, tied them with a leather thong, then removed her
feet from the tree and bound her ankles side by side as well, pulling her hands
and ankles together for a stringent hogtie. Lucy moaned. She was, she thought,
just going from one enforced restraint to another. Was there no break in this
painful and tedious routine, she wondered? What was Fabian up to now?

      
When
Fabian finally removed the blindfold, she blinked in the bright, sun-like
light, trying to focus her eyes. Between the mine and the blindfold, her eyes
were unaccustomed to the bright light and it took a few minutes for Lucy to
regain her sight. What she saw, even after all that she had already endured
since her initial capture on the train months before, astonished her.

      
Fabian
stood a few feet away from her hog-tied form, his arms outstretched above him,
calling her attention to some display that had yet to appear. The building was,
as she had expected, huge, like an enormous greenhouse. Indeed, it was
populated by thousands of green plants, large and small. Trees blossomed,
flowers bloomed and she even heard birds chirping in this lush inside space.
The beauty and the incongruence of the scene stunned her.

      
Fabian
pushed a button on a small remote device in his hand and above the background
noise of blowers and birds and plants growing and leaves blowing in the breeze,
a slight mechanical whine reached Lucy’s alert ears. Fabian pivoted his body
slightly and again spread his arms, pointing proudly to a moving line of
figures that emerged from the deep and heavy bushes behind him. Moving slowly
along a track suspended and almost hidden by the watering hoses and sprayers
and other botanical garden equipment in the overhead, was a line of human
bodies. They were all, from what Lucy could see, young women and they were, at
no real surprise to Lucy, as naked as she was. They were fastened in a most
elaborate way to a sort of metal frame that held them upright, hanging from a
sort of trolley, which moved along the hidden track. The bodies swayed with the
forward motion of the track and Lucy could see a few well-manicured fingers
flutter a bit as the forms moved towards her, but there was little other motion
in the bodies. They were obviously very much alive, but the nature of their
hanging confinement was such that almost no movement was possible.

      
Fabian
stood watching the moving parade of steel bound bodies and again pressed the
remote. Suddenly, the first body in line seemed to jump and then descend and
move closer to Fabian and Lucy, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He
pressed another button and the entire line halted.

      
“Lucy,”
Fabian said with pride. “This fair wench is Ellie, one of my prize exhibits.
And that,” he said, pointing to the next hanging girl in the line, “is
Georgette, Frieda, Lisle,
Hanale
, Glenda, Brenda,
(both of whom I’m sure you know),
Milly
, Carol and
Martha. The Hanging Ten. All ten are the very best that I have been growing
here. I say ‘growing’ because when they came they were nowhere near as perfect
as they are today. It takes care and time and a lot of trouble to get these
specimens as they now are.”

      
Totally
stunned, Lucy stared up, her eyes taking in the strange and highly restrictive
posture of the suspended girls, especially the seventh one.

“You have Brenda
and
Glenda?” she whispered. “My
sister and my best friend?”

“You are
correct,” said Fabian proudly. “I thought it best to have you all and they have
turned out to be even more erotically inclined than you. Only a few years
difference among you, right?”

“Yes. Brenda is nineteen. But why take
her? What did they ever do to you and why Glenda?”

“Oh, nothing,
but it was great fun. Besides, Glenda was a major pain in the butt when she
abducted you for her own purposes. Trip to Kenya, my ass. I found out what was
going on pretty quick and now I’m just getting even. As for your sister, your
father was being so protective that it was an easy challenge to get her. So
many bodyguards around the property that two of my girls quite easily
integrated themselves into the work force and then carried her off one night.
By the way, she apparently likes being tied up, don’t you, Brenda?” Fabian
said, reaching out his hand and tapping the seventh girl on the ass. “But this
one is the one you should pay attention to right now. We’ll deal with Sister
later on, I promise.”

Lucy studied the
nearest girl, the one hanging directly in front of Fabian.

      
“You
want, I think,” Fabian said interrupting her thoughts, “to know what this thing
is that they are bound to, yes?”

      
Lucy
nodded.

      
“Ah,
yes. This is a much more advanced rendition of the bondage tree you recently
spent a few painful hours in. Once I developed that one and realized how really
uncomfortable and perhaps even damaging to the skeletal structure it was, I
came up with this version. It has worked out so well that it is now standard
equipment here and in other similar facilities that I operate.

      
“Please
note, dear Lucy, (because you’ll soon experience it firsthand), the details of
my little Iron Prop, or IP as I call it. The girls here probably have other
names for it because they spend so much time hanging around in it, but until
another term fits my fancy, Iron Prop will do. So here’s how it works. Observe
please that it is basically a sturdy center post of flat, cold-rolled alloy
steel about seven feet long. At the top and bottom are three inch ID, (inside
diameter), welded steel rings which, as you can see, are easily connected to
the overhead track and other hard points where they can be hung.”

      
“At
movable locations on this center post,” Fabian continued, “are four different
sizes and types of adjustable cuffs, very much like flat handcuffs except that
they have far better locks and can be adjusted for a much greater range of
sizes. The two at the bottom of the post easily fit ankles and, you’ll note,
are thick and wide enough so that once closed, the captured feet aren’t going
to move much. There is a handy foot support under them so that you have
something to stand on. That support can be equipped with some interesting
accessories, such as a metal shoe that simulates a very high heeled shoe and
forces the feet into a more attractive and stressful position.

      
“The
next set of cuffs is a bit larger because these fit just below the knees and have
identical features to the ankle cuffs. As you might be able to see from your
disadvantage point down there, each cuff set is essentially welded together, so
there is very little slack space between the cuffed limbs. “The next set up is
the same, holding the legs at the lower thigh. A bit higher on the post, we
find the real sustenance devices for the wearer. If you look carefully, you
will note a small array of tubes leading into the crotch band and others going
up and into the helmet. These provide for liquid and solid waste removal
without the annoyingly time consuming problem of having to remove the subject
from the post. Colonic irrigation, vacuum suction and bladder evacuation are
all provided and installed here. Sustenance, such as it is, is provided through
the helmet’s gag arrangement, so again, no maintenance work requiring removal
from the device. Once they are in here, they can stay for a very long time. We
feed ‘
em
, flood ‘
em
, drain
‘
em
and plug ‘
em
.” Fabian
laughed. It sounded hollow in the vast greenhouse.

      
“A
bit higher still,” he continued, “right at waist level, is an adjustable
belt/penetrator system which holds the waist very close to the post while
anchoring the penetrator band that runs through the tight space between the
legs and holds three creatively designed gadgets which you will shortly become
most intimate with. Suffice to say that these ten creatures are all enjoying
the varied stimulating offerings of these triple attention-getters. No need
right now to describe where they go, but given your training, I am sure you
know exactly where they do their dirty work.”

      
Lucy
knew at once what he was talking about. Anchored in the stall stocks at Summer
Camp, she had endured the triple simultaneous stimulation of asshole, cunt and
clit by electronic, electrical and mechanical means. This trio of pain and
pleasure was often supplemented by additional gadgets clamped or tied to her
tits. It was not an experience she wanted to repeat and, compared to what she
recalled, a night of gang rape by the demented assholes at the mine was more
pleasant, and that wasn’t saying much.

 
     
“Okay,” said Fabian to his small, but
captive audience. “Moving on upwards, you’ll note the next set of cuffs are
also adjustable because, well, nobody’s perfect, are they? No problem for you
in that area, Lucy. Your rack will fit in here very nicely. You’ll see.” Fabian
smiled, looking hard at Lucy’s well-equipped chest.

      
“But
the lack of uniform perfection being a common problem, these cuffs clamp around
the base of the breast and, after a time, usually lock down to about an inch
and a half ID, nicely squeezing and compressing the roots of the tits and
keeping the chest wall right up against the post, as you can see. When a new
candidate arrives with insufficient tit flesh to trap in these bands, we
improvise a bit and use the little darling nipple stretchers you can see here.”
He pinged one of the small metal springy gadgets hanging by a short chain from
one of the breast cuffs. “What happens here is that the nasty little
nipclips
are attached firmly to each nipple. They have
springs which have adjustable tension and can be set to pull with adjustable
constant force against the cuff bands, elongating the nipples over time while
we dose the candidate with various hormones and other things to increase breast
size. It takes time. It hurts, they tell me, like the devil, but it works oh,
so well.” Fabian stopped to take a breath and to stroke Ellie’s cuffed and
compressed breasts.

      
“Once
the size and shape of the rack is acceptable, we might discontinue the nip
clips and torque down the base clamps. It is a measurable and recorded fact
that those who have experienced the combination of
nipclips
and boob clamps place that arrangement among the top three most hurtful and
annoying trials they experience here. In other words, when asked what they want
removed, most girls say the tit clamps, right, Ellie?” As he said this, Fabian
snapped his middle and index fingers against the shiny bright red side of
Ellie’s grossly compressed left breast. Bound as she was, the girl twitched
slightly away from the fingers. Fabian laughed and turned back to Lucy. “Surely
you have already experienced something like this at your various stops along
the way here?”

      
Lucy
blinked and found that tears where coming from her eyes as she looked at the
ten girls bound in these terrible devices, knowing that she would soon join
this Hanging Ten. She was certain that she was to be the eleventh in the
display.

      
“Ah,
shed not a tear for them,” Fabian muttered, still entranced by the chance to
develop his narrative description for the new arrival. “You probably won’t find
this all that annoying because you, unlike most of these creatures, these
female things,” he pointed at random to the hanging girls, “which I have acquired,
have had much more experience with this sort of training. You are lucky. Most
of these,” he gestured again towards the hanging ten, “ended up in here with no
prior training at all. I just encountered them at clubs, on the street, or in
offices or stores and arranged to get them…permanently.