Chapter Seventeen
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.
“Uhh, uhh, uuuhh, ah, ah, ah, ah,” Neidler moaned as the multiple hands and dicks took her from anxious to insatiable. Her hands were on Hoyt’s dark-haired head, pulling the woman’s hair to get better mouth to mouth contact while her other hand reached and grabbed the long blond hair of the woman reaming Amy. Amy’s hands were now locked behind her assailant’s back; the woman having inserted herself between the girl’s bound arms and wiggled in against her bent back. The session went on and on. There was grunting and moaning and cries and screams. Amy, caught in the middle, continued to jam the dildo into Marcy and the woman behind Amy continued to ram her harder and harder. Amy couldn’t stop. She couldn’t escape. The orgasms came and went for each participant until the phone rang. It rang six times and stopped, then rang again.
“My god,” screamed Neidler. “I’m supposed to be up at the head shed in three minutes.”
Instantly, the party stopped. Neidler shoved Amy back and she fell over with the naked woman still pinned behind her and the prong up her ass. Hoyt backed off and rearranged her clothing while Neidler recovered, buttoned her shirt, reached into a desk drawer for a fresh pair of black bikini panties and pulled them on over her boots, then dashed out the door.
“Put her away in the closet,” Neidler shouted. “Or play with her. I don’t care. But not into the population quite yet,” the last few words faded as she hurried up the stairs and out to her car.
“Hummmm,” Hoyt mused, surveying the pile of two young bodies on the floor. The blond was trying unsuccessfully to disengage herself from Amy, but the position they’d fallen into and the size of the dong strapped to her waist were making it difficult
to get free.
Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition Page 11
