Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition

by Jurgen von Stuka

  Lucy Van Holt was the rejected product and in fact a product that was in no shape at all to be shipped. She had been placed in the wrong holding cell the night before. The early morning clones had removed her, packaged her and placed her in the shipping container in the dark hours before dawn, intending to make the first shipment truck with this priority product bound for, of all places, Northern Africa.

  “There will be hell to pay for this,” the clone thought as she rubbed her bruised nose from side to side with her free hand while the Mistress strode madly out of the shipping room and headed to the packaging department where, the clone was very sure, more terror was about to be unleashed.

  Meanwhile, Lucy, who was not P Product 1276-34C-23-35-1199, but rather was P Product 1289-36D-22-34-1299, squirmed inside the steel coffin, trying once again to free herself from the bondage that kept her motionless and attached to the floor and sides of the container. Padded metal bands held her arms, legs, wrists and ankles. The bands tightly encircled the limbs and prohibited any movement. Her ample chest, ringed nipples and all, was secured to the floor of the box with a broad leather strap that was split in the middle and passed over and under her breasts, squeezing them up and out from her chest. The ringed nipples, hardly yet adjusted to their new piercings, and immensely sensitive because the steel rings had only been in place for 48 hours, were attached upward to her nose ring and downward to her single clitoral ring. Any movement sent waves of pain and nausea through the girl’s body because these chains were tight and constantly pulling on one ring or another. In addition to the light bulb gag, Lucy’s ripe little mouth had been violated with a Deep Prudence Palate Probe. This very effective gagging device filled the cavity completely and had a single rubber rod that held it in place. It pulled the girl’s cheeks back and exposed a fine white set of teeth with their own small, imbedded rings.

  The tooth rings were a Prudence specialty. They were tiny steel rings mounted in four teeth in front, usually the incisors. Steel posts were cemented into holes drilled in the teeth and the rings were attached to the posts. The tooth rings were excellent mounts for bits and other control hardware and every Prudence Product left with these rings in place, sparkling in the daylight and glowing in the dark.

  Naked and impaled by a monster dildos below and their fat cousin above; locked in the steel box, bound and gagged beyond anything she had ever imagined, Lucy lay in the dark, waiting for someone to come and save her. It was all she could think about. She breathed through her ringed nose, trying to expel air through her packed mouth. She wiggled her fingers and toes, reviewing endlessly in her mind the series of recent events that had brought her to this place. Stunned by the magnitude of this sudden reversal of her life, she moaned and shivered and waited for the next episode of this unbelievable nightmare to unfold.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bound to ride the rails

  It had all begun when she had stepped into the curtain-shrouded first class compartment on the ICE train to Amsterdam. Boarding in the small southern German town of Rosenheim, Lucy had been surprised to find the compartment already occupied by a uniformed pair of well built young men who appeared to be not much older than she was.

  “Come right in, Miss Van Holt,” the taller man had said in German accented English. His uniform was strange, Lucy thought, quickly looking over both men and wondering why they were in her compartment.

  “And close the door,” the second man had said, curtly.

  “Who are you?” Lucy demanded, annoyance clear in her voice as she fired a series of blunt questions and orders at the pair. “This is my private compartment. Why you are here and why is it so dark. Open these curtains at once.”

  “Oh yes, we know that you booked it, but you are going to share it with us for the trip, Miss Van Holt,” smirked the first man, as he stepped toward Lucy, his left hand extended as though he wanted to shake hands.

  “No I’m not,” was Lucy’s angry reply. “Find your own damned compartment.” She stepped back and began to turn, reaching for the doorknob. A strong hand grabbed her arm and easily twisted it back and upwards. Lucy opened her mouth to scream, but another tanned and rough male hand was clapped over her mouth, silencing the shout. Suddenly, both men were holding her and she felt rope being wound around her wrists. They tied her hands first, binding the arms behind her back with the palms pressed together. The hand over her mouth was replaced with a soft foam rubber ball that was forced between her teeth while her nostrils were pinched to shut off air. Gasping to breathe, Lucy opened her mouth and the foam ball was jammed inside. Lucy kicked and struggled. Her legs were held by one of the men who wrapped her legs with his own long, well muscled legs. Her struggles, as she bent her knees and tried to kick, made her tight, short black dress rise up higher on her thighs.

  “It will be easier for you if you don’t fight with us,” said the first young man who had stuffed her mouth and was now knotting a thin rope around her elbows. “We have all the combat skills we need to subdue you, Miss Van Holt, so you are wasting your energy resisting us,” he whispered into Lucy’s ear as he clamped her legs tighter and cinched the thin rope from her elbows around Lucy’s upper chest, holding her arms close to her back.

  Man #2 was fastening strips of tape over Lucy’s stuffed mouth. The tape sealed her mouth and held the foam ball in place. Lucy whined through her nose, still struggling, but now trying to get her breath and shaking her head frantically, searching the small First Class room for anything or anyone who might help her.

  The three wrestled to the carpeted floor, with Lucy on the bottom and her two captors on top. As soon as the girl’s mouth was sealed, man #2 turned and went to work securing Lucy’s booted ankles with the same thin nylon cord they had used on her wrists and arms. Meanwhile, man #1 wrapped an elastic adhesive bandage slowly around Lucy’s lower head, covering the tape and all of the girl’s face below her nose. The bandage wrap pressed into Lucy’s cheeks and compressed her face, forcing some of her facial tissue upwards and puffing out her cheeks under her eyes. The girl continued to whine, but her struggles grew less as the men worked to secure her legs. The rope was wound around her ankles, pressing them tightly together, then it was cinched between her booted feet and tied off. Man #1 sat casually astride the girl’s back, facing Lucy’s feet, while he tied the ropes. A second rope went around the girl’s legs, just above the knees and was cinched off as well. Then another loop of rope was wound around her legs just below the knees and tied off with a cinch knot. The hem of Lucy’s chic woolen dress was up around her waist and both men went to work wrapping several turns of rope around her narrow waist and tying it tightly in place. They used another length of cord to bind her upper thighs together, locating the rope loops right at the tops of her dark stockings. Now Lucy was fully immobilized, her legs bound at ankles, knees and thighs, her dress bunched up around her waist and a belt of rope wound tightly about her waist as well.

  The two captors got off the girl’s back and sat back on the coach compartment’s plush seats studying the bound captive girl and lighting up cigarettes.

  Lucy struggled and twisted in her new bondage, baffled as to why this was happening, but deciding that it was a kidnapping and that she was in trouble because no one knew where she was except the new boy friend in Amsterdam.

  When they finished the smokes, the men hoisted Lucy up between them and stood her upright against the inside wall of the compartment, next to the door. A heavy steel hook, intended for hanging garment bags, was fastened about six feet off the floor, strongly bolted into the wall. Holding Lucy against the wall, the men used more rope to bind her to the hook, passing rope under her arms, across her chest above her breasts. They created a suspension harness by also linking the chest ropes to those around her slim waist and fastened the harness around the hook. When they finished, Lucy hung suspended from the hook, the toes of her high-heeled boots just touching the carpet. Conveniently, there was a small luggage tie-down ring mounted in the compartment’s steel f
loor and the two men lashed her bound ankles to this ring. She watched with fearful curiosity as the two abductors moved about the compartment, removing packages from their own luggage and opening Lucy’s as well. There was nothing she could do but watch as the train began to move out of the Rosenheim station towards Munich, about thirty minutes away. Both men spoke in a language Lucy did not understand, but she thought it sounded like Dutch. It certainly wasn’t German or Italian; languages Lucy knew at least conversationally, having been educated in a good boarding school and at an even better university in the States.

  Man #1 turned and faced his victim, grinning as he surveyed Lucy from bandage-wrapped head to roped ankles.

  “You are going to have a nice, interesting trip, Van Holt,” he said. “We are going to make sure that you enjoy every click and clack of the rails, all night long. We’ll be having some new guests join us in Munich; then it’s about eight uninterrupted hours of fun and games until Amsterdam, if the train is on time. I know you’ll enjoy the trip. We will too, won’t we Peter?” he said, turning his head toward man #2.

  Peter was almost a twin of man #1. Both were medium height, slim and compactly built like soldiers. They reminded Lucy of the paratroopers she had once met in a small military base outside Munich. They wore black sweaters and snug black trousers tucked into what she had noted were top quality German boots made by the Haix Company. The boots were something she identified because while one man was sitting on her back and tying her feet, his boots had been next to her head and she had noted the large Haix labels on the boots.

  Their sweaters had crew necks, black leather patches on the elbows and epaulets with some sort of silver and red insignia on them. Over the right breast on each sweater was another insignia with some kind of coat of arms in gold, red and silver thread and an inscription on a scroll below. Peter’s epaulets had a gold circle and a star next to the insignia crest. Man #2 had a single star on his. Each wore a bright red turtleneck under the sweater.

  “Of course we will, Henry,” the second man replied, busying himself with inspecting the contents of Lucy’s luggage, his back to the door. He leaned over and opened curtains on one of the windows just enough to look out, then he yanked the curtains apart, letting in the bleak winter daylight. Lucy could see the passing country landscape as the train sped parallel to the autobahn about two hundred meters away. Cars and trucks moved slowly because of the recent snow and the afternoon light was quickly fading. Peter shut off the compartment lights; thus making sure that no one outside could see into the railway car and perhaps catch a glimpse of the men and their bound captive, who hung from the luggage hook against the wall.

  Lucy groaned and twisted in her ropes. Peter came back over to her with something shiny in his right hand. Fearfully, Lucy tried to pull back, but succeeded only in moving but a few millimeters. Peter reached up and unbuttoned the girl’s dress, beginning at the third button from the top, since the first two were already open and displaying Lucy’s fine cleavage. He undid each button slowly, while Lucy writhed in her tight rope suspension, her toes springing up and down from the floor as she tried to avoid the man’s cold, rough fingers moving down her chest, touching lightly the soft skin and straying to each rounded breast for a few moments before continuing down to her waist. Peter unbuttoned until he reached Lucy’s waist. There, he slowly undid the wide silver belt, letting it fall away to the floor. Lucy’s chest was heaving. She whined and gurgled in her throat, blowing and sniffing through her nose, trying to avoid the involuntary disrobing by this attractive and forceful man.

  “Look here, Henry,” Peter said excitedly. “I think our little Lucy has been holding out on us.”

  Lucy whined louder behind the ball gag, turning her head away. Henry left the luggage search and stepped over to see what his partner was doing. Peter had opened up the front of Lucy’s dress, pulling back the stretchy material and exposing the fine black lace slip that barely covered the magnificent set of heaving, jiggling breasts inside their own black lace bra. Carefully, using the thin blade of the small silver knife, he began to cut away the garments, starting with the fabric of Lucy’s dress, continuing with the girl’s slip and moving to the black lace and nylon bra beneath. He discovered that it was not a bra at all, but a beautifully tailored, black stretch lace all-in-one garment that obviously was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the girl’s impressive chest. The garment was partially compressing, almost as if it was designed to deceive the observer, a very large set of breasts behind twin, tight, Lycra lace cups. The breasts were squashed back against the chest and literally oozed out from around the bra cups, showing soft white skin above and at the sides of the garment. The center cleavage was magnificent and both captors oohed and ahhed as they probed and pinched Lucy’s chest. Peter moved the small pocket knife he held lightly in his fingers and quickly cut the shoulder straps on the garment. Lucy’s breasts slowly rolled out of the confining fabric and popped completely into view as the bra cups fell away and rolled down to below the chest, resting over Lucy’s flat little stomach.

  “We’ll have to get some photos of this,” Peter said excitedly. “No one thought she was this, ah, this well-equipped. You’re a naughty little girl, Lucy,” said Henry, shaking a finger at Lucy and then pointing a finger at the girl’s abundant chest. “Why have you been hiding this from us?” he asked with a laugh, poking the left nipple with some force.

  Lucy jerked and surged against the ropes, trying to twist away from the embarrassing exploration, having no idea what this was all about and deeply ashamed to have these two men poking and probing her most carefully guarded assets. Peter was now cutting away the rest of the dress, letting it fall to the floor and leaving, for the time being, the long sleeves which were held by the rope around the girl’s upper arms and wrists behind her. The all-in-one under garment was now the subject of Peter’s cutting work and he carefully trimmed it away until it too fell to the floor, leaving Lucy wearing nothing more than her smoky, thigh-high hose, the bandages wrapped around her face and the ropes around her arms, legs and waist. They left her boots, fine black leather, with three-inch heels, that reached to just below her twice-bound knees.

  Lucy whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, for Peter was now exploring her sex. With clearly experienced hands, Peter moved his fingers over the trimmed, light brown fur between her bound thighs. He then inserted an exploratory middle finger between the lips, parting them easily and sliding his finger up and into the moist interior. Lucy’s body contorted with horror. Her knees came up a fraction of an inch and she squeezed her legs closer together, grasping Peter’s exploring hand tightly, Peter pushed Lucy’s closely bound knees down and drove his hand deeper into the girl’s cleft. Then he removed his hand and stooped to tighten the rope that attached Lucy’s feet to the floor ring. Air rushed into Lucy’s distended nostrils as Peter took an extra strain on the ankle rope and then rose and wiggled his hand again, deep in the girl’s private grotto. He looked straight into Lucy’s terrified eyes.

  “Do you have any more rope, Henry?” Peter said over his shoulder.

  “Sure. Here.”

  “Put some knots into it, please.”

  Henry complied, immediately aware of what his partner planned to do. He tied several figure eight knots into the length of braided nylon and then passed the rope to Peter.

  Peter extracted his exploratory hand from Lisa’s crotch and, taking the doubled and knotted length of cord, reached behind the bound, hanging girl and pulled the rope through the waist rope at the center of her back. Then he poked the knotted rope through the triangle of soft tightness of Lucy’s damp crotch, bringing the ends up and under the waist rope belt in front. His left hand went again to the girl’s lower lips and he carefully aligned the knots so that they extended through the entire frontal area between Lisa’s legs. Then, with his right hand, Peter began to pull the rope through Lucy’s cunt. The two strands of nylon rope quickly disappeared into the fury slit, the small, bumpy knots burying themselve
s neatly inside their new warm little cave. Peter made sure the ropes were very, very tight, pulling hard on the end before tying it off at Lucy’s surging waist. Lucy jerked and sputtered into her gag, the thin rope cutting into her slit and the little knots pressing hard against her clit. Peter cut the ends of the rope at the waist belt, leaving a neat pattern of nylon cord, which tightly divided the struggling girl’s mid section into two twitching segments. The rope was deep inside the girl’s cunt and the waist belt of cord held it secure.

  “Now Lucy,” Peter said softly, “we have to do something about these.” Peter grasped Lucy’s full, globular, white breasts in both hands, fingers around the outside and thumbs pressing on the hard brown nipples. “What would you suggest, Henry?”

  “Oh, it’s such a long trip and she needs to know all the time that she has been a very bad girl, hiding those things from us. Hummm. I don’t know, how about the traps?”