Submissive Wives Academy of Training

SUBMISSIVE WIVES ACADEMY OF TRAINING

Chapter Five – Collars and Leashes

       Jan and the other seven were back in the cage or pen, or whatever they called it, “bedded down” for the night, as Sister Cane had laughingly described it.  At least they weren’t butt-plugged with corncobs dipped in Tabasco like the previous night, Jan thought with some relief.  But the positioning for the night’s “bedding down” was already getting to her.  They had been herded into the pen by Sister Cane’s insistent strokes, wedged tightly together like the previous night, but tonight a horizontal pipe had been added to the pen so that they were each bent over it and it was high enough that their knees could not touch the mud floor of the pen.  The result was that they were forced to place their entire weight on their bellies against the pipe, or to relieve some of the strain they would have to get their feet under them and thus put strain on their legs.

       Their palms had been secured behind them, locked to opposing wrists with three wraps of duct tape on each.  With her calves starting to cramp, Jan relaxed her weight back down onto the pipe, feeling the pressure against intestines that she knew would soon be screaming for relief.  Before being herded into the pen they had been fed “dinner” by sister Cane and her two sluts.  That had consisted of some sort of slop made from refried beans and canned dog food laced with lots of garlic and vinegar, not to mention some devious form of laxative, Jan was sure of that.  And this had been “served” by having four of the eight lie on their backs in Position Six with legs spread, knees pulled up beside their heads and cunt cracks wide open.  The sluts had ladled out the “dinner” onto each crotch as the other four were made to eat, then they traded places with the first four.  Jan wasn’t sure whether it was better to eat from a depression in the dirt or from a filthy crack, but she knew she had no choice.  Obedience was the only law here, and she and the others were obeying it.

       

       Jan shifted her weight onto the pipe, thinking back on the remainder of the day that she and the others had just been through.  Sister Cane had been merciless with the strokes as they had struggled with the scrub brushes in cleaning shit from the asphalt pad, their legs in spasms from the strain of basically duck walking with those infernal brushes stuck up their cunts.  Of course that wasn’t as bad as the two big women who had to scrub with the brushes in their mouths, crawling across the hot pavement, slammed with buckets of lukewarm water that the sluts would slosh over them as they scrubbed away.

They would also get the other women’s brushes shoved into their faces when Sister Cane herded them this way or that.  Twice during the ordeal, one of the sluts pulled Jan aside, as they did most of the others, yanking the brush out of her pussy and either replacing it with a thicker or rougher bristle dildo or re-adjusting the height of the knobby crossbar.  At one point, Jan was forced onto her toes as she swept the brush around with a 3” diameter bristle at least 8” long stuck into her pussy.  Sisters Flogger and Birches had joined in, swinging their implements onto bobbing asses and jiggling tits as they drove around on the golf cart so they wouldn’t get their boots dirty in the mess as the group scrubbed away.  Later in the afternoon as the group had scrubbed the pavement clean, Flogger and Birches took their leave to attend tea with Lady Margaret and Mistress Evelyn.  Sister Cane and her two sluts had made sure the pavement was clean enough, having them go back over it several times.  Then the scrub brushes were removed, but the women had to leave the bristly dildos in place and were then expected to run two laps around the entire compound.  At least they were allowed a few minutes rest in the shade between the running and the “dinner service,” Jan thought.

       So here they were, already in their pen for the night and it wasn’t quite dark.  Something must be up with this, Jan surmised, but she didn’t know just what.  As evening fell, she heard noises behind her and realized it was Sister Cane’s two slaves attaching Coleman lanterns to poles at the front corners of the enclosure.  The nasty chuckle of Sister Cane wasn’t far away as she ambled over, running her cane along the bars at the top of the pen.

       “Wouldn’t want anyone to be afraid of the dark, would we?” she laughed.  “No, not that.  Nor would we want you to be lonely, so let’s invite our guests for the evening, shall we?”  She turned to the two slaves.  “Spritz them up good, sluts, or I’ll have you joining them for the night.”  The two slaves produced spray bottles and started spraying all eight of them over their backs, along their necks, through armpits and over tits, and especially up the crease of ass and pussy. 

“Lovely, just lovely,” Cane said.  “This is my special bug spray for summer evenings.  Of course, it doesn’t kill them or keep them away.  The mixture of sugar and flowers will attract them for miles, and of course we will leave the lanterns here to make it easier for our guests to find a home for the evening.  Good night, now.”   The whine of mosquitoes and the irritating buzz of flies grew louder and closer as the sound of Sister Cane and her two slaves faded into the distance, laughing as they went.

It wasn’t the bites that bothered Jan so much, though she was sure she would be a mass of itches by morning, but rather she could not stand the buzzing around her face and in her ears; it just drove her crazy and she didn’t know how she could take this on top of everything else.  Just then she felt the pipe where her belly rested getting hotter and hotter.  As she tried to figure than one out, a find spray of very hot, almost scalding water shot out from small holes she hadn’t noticed.  All eight of them tried to get up and away, scrabbling to get their feet under them.  Jan found that if she could get solidly onto her feet and arch her back up until it hit the grid roof of the pen that she could avoid the scalding spray.  She could only hold that posture for a few minutes but fortunately the spray stopped after three or four minutes.  But then it came back at odd intervals; usually about the time she tried to doze off for a quick but uncomfortable nap.

The spray did seem to cut down on some of the insect visitors, but the hot water on her welted and sunburned breasts and nipples was just as bad, maybe worse, she thought.  The bugs would certainly return between bouts of the hot water spray, crawling in and out of her folds, buzzing in and out of her ears as she squinted her eyes closed to keep them out.  Then sometime after midnight, or so she guessed, the spray changed to ice cold.  Only with the cold water, the spray lasted longer, making it even more difficult to arch up and avoid it for very long.  Her legs were cramped and a charley horse had set in to each calf muscle as she dropped back down onto the pipe, the freezing water making her nipples harden like stone, trying to catch her breath.  At least I can get sort of washed off, even if it will freeze me to death, Jan thought.  She rocked over and back on the pipe, trying to get the spray on her face and her legs along with jets that pummeled her nipples and trickled into her crack.  What she really wanted to do was to rub the mass of pubic hair that was matted with dirt and shit.  Earlier when she was mounted on the scrub brush, she had tried wiping her pubes clean with some of the scrub water, but Sister Cane didn’t miss much and when she saw, she came down on Jan’s knuckles with that cane.

“Keep those hands on the bar and away from those filthy, filthy cunts!” she screamed as she had rapped Jan’s knuckles two more times, followed by a couple of vicious cuts on the ass.

Somehow, Jan managed to get some sleep and no dreams.  The lanterns must have burned out during the night and the bugs seemed to have abated somewhat as she glanced around in the grey dawn.   She heard a humming sound, like some sort of motor, and then the pipe they were resting on slowly dropped on hydraulic cylinders.  Just as her knees touched the ground and she shifted her weight, the pipe started back up again, with the coldwater spray waking all of them up.  The pipe went up until her feet left the ground completely and her back was jammed against the top of the cage-like pen.  It held them all suspended there amid sounds of choking and gasping, then descended once more, leaving them on their knees and then shots of hot water sprayed from the pipe, soaking the front of each torso in scalding water.  As suddenly as it began, the spray stopped and the pipe stayed in its lowered position.  Jan wiggled her body, settling into the mud floor of the pen and tried to get a few more minutes of sleep.

       The cold spray from the pipe coursed over them, stirring and waking them as the gates to the pen swung open and Sister Prod came along the line, giving each ass a quick pole with the tip of her HotShot.

       “Out of there and line up, Position One Attention,” she ordered, moving back along them one more time.  Jan shook her body, trying to work out the kinks and cramps as she took her place in line with other seven.  She knew she couldn’t assume the proper position with her arms still bound, but just then Sister Prod moved along with a slim knife and cut the tape bindings on each wrist.  “Arms up and in Position, now, unless you would like some more of this!” she called out, brandishing her prod.

The soft hum of a golf cart motor became louder and soon Sister Crop appeared with two slender Asian slaves belted into the back of the cart.  Tiny silver bells hanging from their nipple rings tinkled as the cart pulled up near the line.  Sister Crop took her time dismounting as she selected two crops from the sheath beside her seat.  She flexed each one, gave it a practice slap across the breasts of her two slaves, and walked over to meet Sister Prod.

       “Good morning, Sister,” Crop said, smiling and giving each of the eight a quick once-over. It seemed as though she was looking for unblemished skin that she might work on.

       “And a beautiful morning it is, dear Sister,” she replied.  “Perfect for our morning exercises, don’t you think?”

       “Absolutely.  Shall we get started?”

       “Should we water them first?”

       “Oh, that can wait until they have some real thirst, don’t you think?” Sister Crop asked coyly.  That only reminded Jan of how dry her throat was, but whatever liquids the two sisters had in mind could probably wait for now.  She turned to the two slaves. “Cunts, over here and bring your handiwork,” she ordered.  The two slaves unbuckled themselves and approached the line, carrying a leather bag between them that they set before Sister Crop.

       Sister Prod turned back to the line of eight.  “Position 3, hangers, hands behind backs,” she barked.  The line immediately complied, bending at the waist, legs spread and knees locked tight.  Jan glanced at her breasts and nipples that were a mass of insect bites welts and bruises, but amazingly the skin was unbroken.  “Ok, let’s lace them up,” Sister Prod announced.

       The two slaves pulled a series of braided pieces of rough sisal twine out of the bag each with a large metal ring in the center.  They moved down the line, quickly and expertly tying the braided pieces around each neck and then braiding the loose ends of the twine to close up the piece and to form a collar about an inch wide.  As they finished each collar, Sister Crop would come up and tug on the ring that hung at the base of the throat, making sure the collar was both snug and secure.

       “Now, holding Position Three, display those asses!” Crop called out.  Each of the women reached back to pull her ass cheeks wide apart.  Sister Prod just couldn’t resist giving a little extra encouragement to a couple of them as she gave them a quick touch with the HotShot.

       The slaves had dropped a coil of the braided sisal twine in front of each woman and Jan saw that it had a series of knots every few inches along the first third of it.  It looked to be about nine or ten feet long with a large metal ring on one end and a knot with loose ends of twine at the other.  “Leash them up!” Sister Prod ordered.  The two slaves threaded the loose end of the coil through the ring in the collar, pulling it through and then tossing the end between each woman’s feet.  They then went behind them and drew the end through the crotch, up the back, and proceeded to braid the loose ends into the back of each collar.  When all eight been leashed up, Sister Prod yelled again.

       “Up, Position Two, present those tits!”  As they took the required posture, the two slaves came around to the front once more and pulled down hard on the ring end of the leash, bringing it up tight into each crotch.  Jan lifted onto her toes as she felt the knots along the leash biting into the folds of her pussy and along her very sunburned ass.  The ring at the end of the leash hung down against her upper thighs.

       Sister Prod inspected the leashes, giving an occasional tug herself as she went down the line.  She looked at the two slaves. “Adjust a loop for nipple height and the ring for crack fit,” she snapped.  The two deftly created a loop in each leash that ended up between the breasts, showing each woman how to put a hand in the loop and pull down on it to hold the leash tight against her crotch.  Then they shortened up each end so that when the loop was jerked down tight the large ring hung down just low enough to swing against the pussy as she moved.

       “This is the proper way to stand, walk or run with the collar and leash,” Sister Cane told them.  “And when we call for left hand or right or both, that hand will pull down on that leash for all it can, understood?  Of course it’s understood, or you will each wish you did,” she answered for them.  “Now, let’s have a morning jog shall we?”

       “Oh, let’s set the pace for them, Sister,” Prod called out.

       “Excellent idea, Sister Prod.  Why didn’t I think of that?  Cunts, take a spare leash and put them in coffle behind my cart.  And put that one in the lead,” she said, pointing at Jan.  One of the slaves led Jan to the golf cart as the other attached a spare leash to the ring on Jan’s leash ad the other to a strap on the back of the cart.  Then the next woman, the short redhead with the pale skin and pointy breasts was lined up behind her with her leash end snapped to the back of Jan’s collar by means of a short chain the slaves pulled from the bag.  Then each of the others was lined up behind, with the two big women bringing up the rear, where their broad butts would provide even better targets than usual.

       “Now, we will set the pace, and you will keep it,” Sister Crop announced as she settled into the driver’s seat.  “Those leashes are to kept taught and straight between each of you, and no hands will be need with this exercise.  In fact, hands are to be held above the shoulders as we pace our little morning jog.  Do it now!”  Sister Prod climbed in beside Crop and she motioned for the two slaves to follow alongside the cart as they pulled away with the women struggling to get a pace going as the cart picked up speed.

       Jan jogged behind the cart with the knots of the leash biting between her labia and grinding against her clit as she struggled to keep the pace and keep the leash tight at the same time.  They weren’t running that fast, but Sister Crop made sure they followed a rough enough path, along gravel, up and down the sand bank, then along and around the stinking shit trench which they could smell as came near it.   The combined discomfort of the overwhelming stench and the roiling in her guts made Jan wince a little as they came past the trench where they had been made to crawl on their arrival night.  The cart came to an abrupt stop and Sister Prod stood up to face them.

       “Squat, pull the leash aside and shit!” she yelled.  “You have two minutes and then it’s back to exercise!”  They gratefully complied, Jan hoping she could expel everything in that short interval.  At two minutes, Sister Crop motioned to the two Asian slaves.

       “Ring those bells, time to stop stand at attention!”  The two slaves stood with hands behind their backs, chests stuck out, shaking and shimmying to ring the silver bells in their nipples.  The eight women struggled to the required stance and realizing that assuming the position would place their feet squarely in a pile of their own shit. 

       “Pull those leashes tight and let’s go!” Sister Crop crowed, starting off with the cart once more.

The cart picked up speed when they approached the circular asphalt pad from the previous day’s searing sundial treatment.  The Sisters cackled with the fun of it all as they drove round and round the circle, picking up speed each time.  After about four or five turns around the circle the group was running at full speed and ready to collapse.  Sister Crop slowed down a bit then started them across the compound again, this time back to the far corner near the cage pen where they had been confined for the past two nights.  Off to the side of the pen were various frames, posts and benches and what seemed to be a huge version of a playground seesaw with its center support and a quite long beam with a crossbar at each end instead of the usual seats.

       The cart slowed to a stop as the eight women and even the two slaves running alongside bent and wheezed, catching their breath.  Sister Crop motioned to the slaves to unhook the women from the coffle line.  “Line up, Position Two, present those tits!” she ordered, as the women were released and lined up.  After she was unhooked Jan tried to ease the leash away from her crotch without it showing too much as she took the required position.  As they all stood with legs spread and bent and holding their breasts up by pinching the nipples, Sister Prod came by to inspect them, pulling down extra hard on the leash of each one.  The tug pulled the ring at Jan’s throat and the downward force jerked the knotted portion even further up into the crease of her pussy and chafing along her clit. 

       Sister Crop followed in her own inspection with short flicking strokes of her crop on the exposed undersides of the sixteen tits displayed for her.  She stopped at the large blonde and moved the woman’s hands up higher and wider, pulling the breasts up as she did.  She leaned in on the woman and hissed “Pinch them harder,” as she squeezed her own hands around the blonde’s fingers.  The blonde shook with the tension in her fingers as she stood there pulling and pinching at her own breasts and Sister Crop gave each another four quick swats along the undersides before moving on to terrorize someone else.

       

       They had been given a short rest break and one of the slaves produced two gallon bottles of water.  The Sisters had them kneel and pull tight on their leashes with heads back and mouths open.  Then the slaves walked along splashing water over faces and into mouths as the women swallowed and gulped to get as much as they could.  God, it tastes like water, Jan thought, actual water.  No piss or other stuff in it, just water.  The slaves came along the line again and literally poured water into each mouth.  Jan sputtered and tried to swallow all of it because it tasted so good and clean for a change. After a few minutes, Sister Crop called them all to attention once again.  She pointed to Jan with her crop and swept her arm over toward the seesaw apparatus. 

       “You, on that side of the seesaw,” she directed, then turned to the tall slim brunette and directed her to the opposite side.   Next, she selected the large blonde to go to Jan’s side and the big brunette with the curvy torso and big tits to the other.  Then she sent the pale redhead to Jan’s side and the older woman with platinum hair and the small tits with huge nipples to the opposite.  That left two women standing at attention, the tall one with obviously fake boobs, broad waist and huge cunt lips and the sort of average-looking woman Jan had hardly noticed before.  She had sagging tits and a big wide butt above legs that looked too thin for her.  The one with fake boobs was sent to Jan’s side and the other woman went to the far end of the seesaw.

       “Now line up on the seesaw, two on each side of the crossbar,” Sister Crop called out.  “We are balancing weights here, so line them up sluts,” she directed.  The two slaves came over and arranged Jan and the one with fake boobs to straddle the front side of the seesaw’s crossbar and the big blonde and the small redhead on the backside of the beam.  Jan looked down at the crossbar between her legs, seeing that it was a T-shaped piece of shiny metal, probably aluminum, with the T inverted to put a nice edge under her crotch when the time came.  After they had lined up the other four women on the other end in a similar fashion, one of the slaves went to a box mounted near the center.  She lifted a lid on the box and pushed a switch.  The center support started to rise on hydraulic cylinders, bringing the crossbar into contact with the line of labia at each end of the beam and Jan felt the first contact of the T bar pressing the knots of the leash up into her even as she went up onto her toes to relieve the pressure.  The movement stopped and Sister Crop strode over to face them.

       “We want to weigh the balance here, and it looks like it’s an even match, but we want to be sure.  You may hold the bar or each other to maintain balance, but you may not use hands to push cunts off the bar.  If you do, we will know.  Slut, bring it up.”

       The cylinders began rising again, now putting the center support well above waist height on Jan’s side of the beam as their feet left the ground.  She saw that one of the two slaves was holding down the opposite end of the beam with the other four on it.  The beam rose another couple of inches and stopped.  The slave that had operated the switch came to Jan’s side and pushed down hard on the beam as her partner slave released her own side sending the seesaw up into the cracks of the other four.  Jan felt the hard nipples of the woman with fake boobs slam against her back as the bar came down on their side.

After a few more hard slams to one side or the other, Sister Crop approached the seesaw.

       “Balance them out, sluts, all feet and toes off the ground.”  The bells on the two slaves tinkled lightly as they steadied the beam, bringing it level with both ends off the ground.  Jan struggled to hold on as the T bit even deeper into her folds and setting her entire weight onto it.  They were held there completely balanced as Sister Crop inspected them and casually flicked the tip of her crop at random tits or hips and the bar pushed even harder into each of them.  Sweat covered them and the older woman with the platinum hair was shuddering with spasms as Sister Prod nodded to one of the slaves to lower the beam.  Jan’s entire torso was numb as her feet settled onto solid ground.  She was about to hyperventilate and her nipples shook as she evened out her breathing.

       Two more golf carts pulled up to join them, one driven by Sister Flogger with Sister Birches riding shotgun and the other with Sister Cane and her pinched face that looked as though she always had something nasty-tasting in her mouth.   Sister Cane’s cart carried the same two slaves that had attended her the previous day and there was one slave strapped to the back of Sister Flogger’s cart.  She was tall and willowy with firm breasts and an allover tan.  Jan couldn’t see her face, which was covered by a canvas hood, though a long braid of black hair was draped over her shoulder and hung beside her

left breast.  There was a large thick rope coiled on the bracket beside her.  Sister Cane stood up in her cart to greet everyone.

       “Shall we start the entertainment, Sisters?” she asked.

       “Absolutely, dear Sister,” Crop replied.  “And we can polo them all over to the venue, can’t we?”

       “Polo them, indeed,” Sister Flogger, answered with a laugh.  “What a delightful way of putting it!”

       “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”  Sister Crop smiled at her own cleverness.  “You will take your leashes and pull down hard on them, now!”  As the women complied, she continued.

“We will be returning to the trench where you entered our compound, and now that you are evenly matched as to weight, we will have a wonderful tug of war to see which four of you move on to the next grade and which will have to perform some extra tasks before doing so.”

       “You will run to the trench, accompanied by my Sisters and me, as we imagine ourselves on a polo pitch with eight different target balls,” Flogger added with a grin.

       “And those leashes will be pulled tightly into cunts and cracks every step of the way,” Sister Birches chimed in.  “So, let’s get going, shall we?”

       Sister Prod applied the contacts of her HotShot to a couple of butts and the group turned and broke into a run across the compound to the shit trench.  Jan was near the front of the pack and she swung wide to the left of the group as she ran.  But that was just too tempting to Sister Cane who came up beside her and landed three hard blows as she zoomed by, then turned to face the group coming toward her and came back at them.  Meanwhile, Flogger and Birches swooped and curved around, swinging hard and hooting and laughing all the way.  Sister Prod drove the third cart, sticking her HotShot at whatever flesh she passed, including the two Asian slaves who were forced to run alongside.  Sister Crop stood in the back of the cart to give herself maximum reach and stroking power.  She let out a loud ‘whoop’ each time she landed a stroke.  Cane and Prod almost collided head on as they converged on the tits and ass of the big blonde at just the same moment, but at the last second, Prod pulled her cart away to the left allowing Cane to land a square stroke across the top of the blonde’s tits just as Sister Crop leaned out and planted a hard uppercut swing onto the crease of her heavy thighs.

       Flogger and Birches herded Jan’s team to the far side of the trench as Crop and Prod sent the other team to the near side.  Sister Birches dismounted and removed the hood from the slave on the back of their cart.  She motioned for the slave to unbuckle herself and take the coil of rope to the trench.  The woman was a beauty, possibly in her late 30’s, with the prominent nose and high cheekbones of a Native American.

       She carried the heavy rope to the trench and set it down, then handed one end to Jan and motioned for her to move back with it.  As Jam moved back the rope uncoiled and the slave took the other end and walked to the trench and down into it, handing off the end to the older woman who happened to be standing closest to the trench and then waving for her to move back.

       “Stretch it out and take hold!” Flogger yelled out.  “Sluts, get in there and line ‘em up!”  The two Asian slaves and Sister Cane’s matched pair ran to assist in getting the two teams of four lined up on the rope.  There was a scrap of red ribbon at the center of the rope and the tall slave stood in the trench holding it.  Flogger looked down at her standing there in that awful mess.  “Tell us, what we allow you to be called,” she demanded. 

       “Honored Mistresses, this unworthy cunt is allowed to call itself  ‘slutturd’,” she replied looking down to where the level of shit in the trench was above her knees.

       “And why are you here?”  Flogger asked.

       “Honored Mistresses, this slutturd is here for the honor of assisting in this entertainment, and then bathing in the welcome trench.”

       “And why is bating in this stinking ditch so special, cunt?”

       “Honored Mistresses, this slutturd was graciously given the chance to bathe here instead of receiving extra punishment strokes with the heavy cane.”

       “And why were you sentenced to extra strokes?”

       “Honored Mistresses, this unworthy cunt slutturd lost count in its morning flogging.”

       “Well then, let’s get to it, shall we?” Sister Birches piped in.  “Hold the rope up and on your knees.”

       “Yes, Honored Mistress, than you Mistress,” she said as she knelt.  The level of the shit trench was just under her firm breasts with their dark brown nipples.

       “Oh no, let’s have it sit,” Flogger answered.  “On your ass, feet up and spread and keep the rope up!”

       The woman moved around to sit in the trench with the level just under her chin.

Her arms struggled to hold the heavy rope above the mess as her feet rested on each side of the trench.

       Flogger looked to each side now holding the rope.  “On my signal you will begin.

The winning team must pull the other team across the trench.”  She pointed to the two Asian slaves.  “You two take this cunt’s ankles.  When I give the signal she will drop the rope and lie back while you drag her through the trench for her special bath.”

       The two slaves took their position while both teams dug in on either side.  Jan was the third back with the big blonde anchoring behind her. The blonde wrapped the end of the rope around her waist.  Jan kicked at the dirt, digging out a better foothold.

       “Ready?” Flogger called.  “Then three, two, one, go!”

       The rope snapped taut as both teams pulled hard.  The slutturd’s head dropped under the surface as the two slaves ran the length of the trench dragging her by the ankles.

To be continued