Submissive Wives Academy of Training

SUBMISSIVE WIVES ACADEMY OF TRAINING

Chapter Six – Moving Up

       Jan’s feet slipped under her and she felt the team losing ground, but only a foot or two.  They hauled back and Jan grunted loudly, trying to signal the other three to stay in unison with backward lunges.  On the third grunt, the big blonde at anchor and the small redhead seemed to catch on and they lunged back and picked up the ground they’d lost plus a couple more feet.  Jan tried to remember this game from college days when the sororities would do it.  It seemed that if you lunged and yanked back in unison and still kept the pull as hard as possible that you could get momentum.  Once you got them on the move, it was nearly impossible for the other team to reverse.  They had been matched for weight and relative size, but how were they matched for endurance, she wondered.  Could the slight redhead last longer than the older woman of about the same size?  And the two fatties as Jan though of them, how would the blonde hold out against the brunette almost her size in the legs and ass department?

       And Jan wondered about the lasting power of the tall slender brunette that they had paired against her.  She was taller than Jan, probably eight or nine years younger and perhaps ten or so pounds lighter.  Would her youth and leverage outdo Jan’s muscle and determination?  They gave a little ground, maybe only a foot or so, when Jan gave out a big grunt and they hauled back, extending legs straight out, then digging their feet in and hauling hard once again.  Jan saw the older woman’s feet slip sideways along with the thin legs of the woman with the broad butt and saggy boobs.  Another grunt and yank and they were moving backward as the platinum-haired woman backpedaled her feet to just shy of the trench bank and a near to screaming grunt came from the big brunette anchoring the other side and they started to pull back.

       The slutturd had been drug through the trench with only her ankles and feet out of the soupy mess and she lay in the sand at the end of the trench.  Sister Flogger casually motioned the two slaves to roll her in the sandy grit even as she kept here eyes on the contest.  Sister Crop didn’t seem to be happy with how the tug of war was going and she rushed to the side opposite Jan and started applying her crop for encouragement.  That was when Jan saw Sister Prod approaching her side and before the woman could reach them, she let out a roaring grunt and they all pulled harder than ever. 

Whether is was the distraction of Sister Crop hitting their bodies or the surprise of Jan’s animal roar, the others were startled just long enough for Jan’s team to grab the advantage.  The lead woman’s feet slid over the bank and into the trench followed by the thin legs of the one behind her.  The slim brunette and the large one anchoring couldn’t do much but follow at that point.  Sister Birches had handed some of her nasty branches to the two other slaves and they herded the losers completely into the trench by swinging at butts and shoulders, forcing them down onto their knees in the stink and allowing Birches to stand back.

Jan and her teammates stood there, bending and gasping for breath, with furtive smiles at each other.  As they stood up to see their opponents, Jan put an arm around the woman on either side and soon they were in a smiling group hug.  Flogger approached their circle.

“There will not be any celebrations or prizes, but I will admit that it wasn’t too bad.  Not great, but then how could it be from such low forms of life?”  She did give them an extra smile that seemed to be warmer than her usual evil grin.  She unclipped the black plaited flogger with the decorative white stitching from her belt. “So line up, Position Four, a Quad, so that I can deliver your prizes to you.”

They were lined up facing away from the trench so that when they were in position they could see between their legs.  As they waited for Flogger to start her delivery they could see that Birches and Crop had the losing team in the trench bent in Position Three and displaying their asses.  The two pairs of slaves knelt on the edge of the trench each holding the hair of a losing teammate.  Sister Birches walked along behind them delivering a series of vicious cuts with her infamous switches.  Then they heard Crop call out “TEABAGS!”  The four slaves took the four losers by the hair and in rhythm pushed their heads under the surface and brought them back up.  They repeated it as Birches continued up and down the line.

Jan felt the quick four strokes across the broad part of her ass cheeks followed by a really hard one along her upper spine and a fast upswing into her twat and belly.  Having been really punished and hit in some very cruel ways in the past few days, Jan strangely felt as though those strokes were a reward.

After a brief rest they were all lined up at the edge of the trench with heads down and asses up in Position Five.  That was so the Sisters didn’t have to look at the shit covered faces of the losers according to Sister Cane.  But Sister Flogger seemed to be in charge as she stood opposite them on the back of her golf cart.

“You have actually obeyed well,” she said in earnest tones.  “And you will all be allowed to move up to shit grade.  But before then, there is one more task for all of you.

Our welcome trench, which you can all see before you at this moment, needs to be cleaned periodically so that we can keep it fresh for our activities.  Flogger spoke without an ounce of irony as she described the clean-up procedure.  “You will be given yokes and buckets, on each side of the yokes. The losing team will fill the buckets by scooping the shit. All eight of you will carry buckets to the field where they will be spread as fertilizer.”

       At that point a wagon came through the gate pulled by two large women in an ox yoke.  They seemed to be in their late forties or early fifties with wrists strapped to the yoke so were bent over and their large tits sagged down and swung as they plodded into the compound.  Copper bells attached to their nipple rings rang loudly with each swing of the pendulous breasts. But what was most striking about them was that their bodies were almost completely covered with hair.  It covered them down their legs, across the broad backs along their arms.  It tapered off along the tops of their breasts and across the cheeks of their asses.  A petite woman in white blouse, black vest and riding breeches drove the wagon, flicking a long bamboo whip to keep her team moving.  The woman had two or more paddles in holsters at her wide belt and there seemed to be more of them in a slot beside her driver’s seat.  In the back of the wagon were stacks of white five gallon buckets and wooden shoulder yokes with rings at each corner.

       “Welcome Sister Paddles,” Flogger called out.  “Just in time for the tasks to begin.” She motioned to the four slaves.  “Bring the cleaning supplies over.  You eight, up now, at Attention, Position ten.”  They all knelt, backs straight, heads back, with hands locked behind their necks.  The four winners were at one end of the line and four buckets were placed behind each of them, along with four for the losers.  Then the slaves moved to the losing side with what looked like one-gallon paint buckets with wire handles and a snap hook, attaching them onto the collar ring of each of the losers.  That left the buckets resting against the tits of the four women.”  Sister Paddles stepped forward to speak with a surprisingly large voice for such a small woman.

       “You four will use those buckets to fill the larger ones,” she announced, “and they will remain on your collars as you do so.”  She grinned innocently at them as they absorbed the idea of how they were to scoop and scrape shit from the trench with a bucket attached to the neck.  Jan shifted a bit, relieved that it wasn’t her that would be scooping like that, but knowing it was still not going to be fun.

       “You other four will hold buckets to be filled in the following manner,” she continued.  “You will kneel with heels under the ass and the bucket on the thighs.  You will cradle it lovingly between the tits with the chin resting on the rim of the bucket.  Since we recognize differences in sizes, each of your buckets will be marked with a line.  You are to be sure that each of your four buckets is filled to that mark or above it.”

       “After the first four buckets are filled, you will select four more buckets belonging to our scooping losers and be sure that they are filled as well,” Sister Cane chimed in.  “We will pair you off for the other buckets to keep the loads balanced, but you scooper losers will scoop into any bucket held before you until its holder rises to fetch another.”

       “When all buckets are full to our satisfaction you will be yoked up by my slave pair,” Sister Crop added, “and Sister Paddles and her hairy oxen will lead you to the field.

It should only take, oh, five or six trips to empty and clean the entire trench and spread that valuable fertilizer on our fields.”

       “And it will be done by nightfall,” Sister Flogger stated, with a tone that said it would be done in that time.   Crop walked along the line of the losing four tapping her crop against the metal buckets.

       “Get on with it, now!” she barked.  “And you four, get buckets over here.”

       Jan turned to see that eight buckets had been set behind her and each had been marked with a line about two inches below the rim.  The big blonde beside her saw that the mark for her buckets was nearly at the top.  And the small redhead’s marks were almost a third of the way down on her buckets.

       “Quickly, quickly,” Paddles called out, swinging her long bamboo whip at the four in the trench.  The four women bent low, scooping up bucketsful and turning to dump them into the waiting white buckets.  “Faster you slugs!” Paddles yelled again and swinging her whip.  The speeding-up process caused shit to fly and spill over the edges and down the sides of buckets, all up and down arms and necks of scoopers and to splash into faces as the other four held their chins on the rims of buckets that were being filled.

       The buckets had been filled and Jan knelt near the eight she had been assigned.  The four scoopers began to clamber out of the trench before Sister Paddles halted them.

       “Uh-uh.  Be sure that scoop bucket stays full whenever you leave the trench,” she said.  So they each had to squat low to fill the bucket that hung on the chest before they could climb out and approach the array of buckets and yokes.  The wood yokes had depressions for the shoulders and a large notch for the neck.  The buckets had rope handles with a hook at the center of each and they were hooked into rings on the ends of the yokes.  Sister Paddles had kept the two Asian slaves to assist her with yokes and buckets while the other slaves and the Sisters adjourned to more pleasant diversions.  Sister Flogger had take care to stand the one she called ‘slutturd’ in one end of the trench and flog her from knees to neck front and back before the group left with slavetturd running along behind Flogger’s cart tied to it by a rope through her crotch with a short leash attached.

They were all made to kneel while they were fitted, then Sister Paddles commanded them to stand.  The weight was staggering to Jan.  She had no idea how far away this field might be, but she certainly hoped it wasn’t too far.  Sister Paddles motioned for them to line up and signaled to the two slaves to attach their leashes.  They were leashed back into the coffle with each hooked to the collar of the next.  The slaves gave an extra tug on the leash to make sure it bit deeply into the crack and seated the knots across tender flesh.  Paddles came down the line and gave each butt a hard smack with a wide leather paddle as she climbed into the wagon seat and swung the bamboo whip at her two ox-like slaves.  She tossed two slender wooden paddles that looked like paint stirring sticks onto the ground as the wagon started out and the line walked behind.

“Keep those buckets moving,” she called out to the two slaves and pointing out the implements.  “Don’t spare them a bit!”  The group started out of the compound and down a narrow gravel path through a thicket of woods.

Jan plodded along the path through the trees and then up a short incline which flattened out into a broad field.  Actually, it was several fields, since there were slaves working in various patches of vegetables, fruit orchards and in a far pasture she saw cattle gazing and slaves moving among them.  Directly ahead was a patch of dark earth with four females pulling a plow as another walked alongside them with a whip.  Paddles drove her wagon up to the side of this field and climbed down.  She took a bucket from the back of the wagon, walked up to her two ‘oxen’ and gently poured water into their open mouths and splashed a little over their faces.

The two slaves were unclipping the leashes and leading the group, two at a time and spread them at various points along the edge of the field.  Paddles walked over to supervise.

“Set the yokes down, take your buckets and spread it all out nice and smooth in the area between you and the next shit buckets,” she said.  Jan and the others followed orders, pouring a line from a bucket then moving over and pouring another line beside the first.  They worked from one woman to the next, spreading out the wretched contents of the buckets along the edge of the plowed field.

They were on their fourth trip to field from the trench, which was now getting closer to empty.  The four scoopers had to crawl along with faces almost in the dirt, scraping remnants into their buckets and bringing them to fill the larger buckets.  One more trip, Jan thought.  She realized that once she’d started on the trips back and forth that she was in a zone of some sort.  Subspace, she thought, that’s what it is, subspace.  Then it dawned on her that a lot of the stuff they’d been going through wasn’t just blind dumb pain or sadistic jollies for the Sisters, it was conditioning.  Wow, Jan thought, what a discovery.  She went back over her time in the compound, trying to focus on just how long they had been there.  When she had a hard time coming to grips with that idea her mind drifted to thoughts of Dave and the things they had done that brought them to apply to S.W.A.T.

She had often been a loving and willing painslut to Dave, ever since they’d met almost ten years before.  They had played and experimented with a huge array of bondage, ties, cuffs and collars, and Dave’s collection of crops and paddles was extensive.  She was never sure she loved being spanked or cropped, but she certainly missed not having it in those times when they didn’t for one reason or another.  She definitely disliked electrical play but she adored candle wax on her nipples and breasts, especially when mixed with Dave’s quick wrist on a crop across her thighs or pussy.

She snapped back to reality when one of the slaves hit her ass with a stick and she felt the leash jerk at her throat.  Catch up with them Jan, and stay there, she told herself as she got back on pace with the coffle.  Her daydream slipped away as they climbed up the incline to the field and walked along to what she thought of as “her place” where they poured out the shit to cure in the sun. 

“Come on now, dump those buckets and spread it out nice since this looks like the last full load,” Paddles called out to them.  After they had emptied their buckets Paddles stood up in her wagon seat.  “Now that you have dumped it, get on your knees and spread it smooth and even.”

Jan looked at the lines of shit laid next to each other like stinking ribs of corduroy in the field. 

“I said smooth it out, spread it nice!” Paddles screamed at them.  The all dropped down on all fours and began smoothing out the rows into flat stinking sheets in the soil of the field.  “Faces down close and inspect the work,” Paddles added and she jumped down from the wagon, pulling a varnished wooden paddle with holes in it from her holster.  Jan had crawled to the far side of the lines of shit to keep it between her and the Sister.  And she saw that a couple of others had done the same.

“Everyone on this side, noses in it, spreading it out!” she called.  Jan felt it squishing beneath her as she crawled back to the edge of the field with her nose dragging across the lines of shit.  “Paddles tapped her head to turn her around and Jan found herself crouching down in Position Five with her ass right in front of the paddle.

               CRACK!

       The first smack of the paddle on Jan’s rump echoed across the field, loud enough to make the slaves picking tomatoes and corn stop their work and look for the sound.  Four more followed, each as loud as the first before Paddles moved on to the next woman.  Jan’s arms flew back and forth, rubbing at lines and piles of shit to smooth them out while she still tried to catch her breath from the extreme paddling she had just taken.  Later when Jan thought about it she asked how such a small woman could swing so incredibly hard.  She had taken hard swats from Dave’s two hundred pound body, but never anything like that. 

       “Now get back to spreading and smoothing,” Paddles called out after she had finished smacking the line of asses.  She crooked a finger for one of the slaves to approach her.  “Squat and spread, slut” she ordered and as the slave complied Paddles rubbed each edge of the wood paddle along the slave’s pussy, sawing it back and forth a few times on one edge then the other.  The slave thrust her crotch into the paddle as it stroked her.  Paddles inspected the wood and saw that both edges glistened with juicy moisture.  She pressed it flat against the slave’s nipples.  “Polish it,” she said.  The slave took the paddle and began to rub her own juice from the edges onto her tits, then rubbed the flat of the paddle across them, flipping it and polishing it on both sides. 

The Sister pulled a leather paddle from the opposite holster. And pointed it at the other slave.  “Over here and give me Position Three.”  The slave hurried to her side and assumed the position. Paddles stepped behind her and gave her a dozen rapid and loud swats with the heavy leather implement.  “Do you know why I gave you those, slut?”

“No, Honored Mistress, this stupid cunt does not know, but it thanks the Mistress for her attention to a lowly cunt slut.”

“I gave them because I wished to,” she said.

“This stupid cunt thanks the Mistress once again,” she replied.

Paddles acknowledged the reply with a hard upswing into the slut’s tits as they pointed straight down.  “How dare you not recognize me by the proper title?”  She repeated the blow.

       The slave flinched but held position.  “Honored Mistress, this stupid, stupid cunt begs forgiveness for not using the proper title and humbly begs to be punished for its stupidity.”

       “Very well,” Sister Paddles answered.  “Take that slag’s collar bucket and bring it here.”  The slave unclipped the metal bucket from the collar of the older woman with platinum hair and brought it over to Paddles who looked down into it.  “Hmmm, half full should be enough.”  She stepped back and looked at the group of women still smearing shit across the dirt, smoothing it out.  “Lift the bucket, turn it over and wear it as a hat,” she demanded.

       The slave had no expression on her face as she did as told and the shit started dripping down her long hair and across her forehead and down her nose.  But the bucket had a sort of seal against her head and the flow slacked off. 

       “Lift it up slightly,” Sister Paddles said, and when the slave pulled the bucket off her hair the rest came cascading out over her, covering her face and down onto her shoulders and across her breasts.  “Set it back down and leave it on your head until I return you to your kennel.”  She took the wire bale handle of the bucket and put into the slave’s mouth, directing her to keep her hat on.  She looked at the shit spread to dry in the sun and climbed into the wagon.  “All right, hook them up and back to the trench to finish up our task.”

       

       The final trip to the field had been an easier one since there were only about twenty buckets left instead of the usual thirty-two, or so Jan had thought.  Sister Paddles had obviously thought differently. Paddles told them to use all the buckets and to fill them evenly. After the scrapers had cleaned up the last of the trench leaving only mud walls and bottom, they climbed out and each woman was told to kneel at her four buckets.  Sister Paddles came down the line with the two slaves and directed them to “shuffle some buckets.”  The two would take a half-full bucket and dump its contents into another to nearly fill it, or they would pour parts of a full bucket into two or three others, emptying that one.  Sister Paddles stood back and smiled.

“Now I said to even them up, so do it.” 

Jan picked up a full bucket and started to tip it into one of hers that was less than a quarter full. 

“No, no!” Paddles yelled.  “Buckets stay on the ground. Tits are on the rim.  Use hands to transfer from bucket to bucket.”

So there they were with tits on the rim as they scooped double handfuls up onto their breasts and then shifted to another bucket to scrape shit off their tits and into it.

The slave wearing the bucket hat was given another metal bucket and told to scoop from the buckets.  After she filled it she pranced back and forth behind the line and when Paddles would call out “Hat!” she would dump it over the head of whichever one she was behind at the moment, repeating it until all eight of them were thoroughly coated from head to tits.  And before they were yoked up for the final trip they were made to stand in a tight circle and smear shit all over each other from head to toe, with special attention paid to smearing it up into cunts and ass cracks as Sister Paddles had her slaves doing, just to be sure.

       The knots bit against Jan’s clit and right into the rosebud of her ass with each step as she walked.  The buckets swung against her legs and scraped against the shit caked on her calves and knees.  But she was somehow elated by knowing that she was moving on from three days -- or was it only two? -- of the lowly treatment all eight of them had been through.  Ahead of her she could see the jiggling ass of the large blonde and she felt a sudden kinship to her and the others, but even somehow dreading how future training would probably pit them against one another.

       They reached the field and once again dumped the buckets and then crawled across the masses of shit to smooth them out to Sister Paddles’ satisfaction.  Then they were directed to place the yokes and empty buckets in the wagon and then to line up and assume Position One, Attention.  While they stood there, Paddles removed the yoke from the two hairy women-oxen and with her paddle herded them to the back of the wagon where they also assumed Position One.  The two slaves moved along the line and paired off the eight women, hooking short chains to their collars so they would walk shoulder to shoulder.  Then they arranged them according to size in front of the wagon.  Jan was paired with the tall and slender brunette and they were second behind the two smaller women, the pale redhead and the platinum-haired older woman.

       The two hairy oxen were fixed to the back of the wagon with chains from the collars running down their backs, through the crotch and attaching to the rear of the wagon box.  They would provide brakes as necessary, Paddles had explained.  The four pairs of chains were clipped to a heavy rope that ran between them to the front of the wagon.  It was obvious to Jan that they would be pulling the wagon back to wherever they were headed, with the rope on the chain that paired them off hooked to the wagon.  Then the two slaves came along and ran the front rings of their leashes back down through each crotch, pulling them tight and under so that each woman had to bend over as the leash was wrapped around the heavy center rope and secured. 

       The two slaves whipped them into movement as Sister Paddles lounged on the wagon seat.  Jan felt the two ox-women at the rear pulling back against the wagon as they rolled down the short incline from the field.  The pull didn’t seem to be too difficult as they followed the path back toward the compound until they passed the gate and saw a long sloping hill ahead of them.  The slaves put the bamboo whips to work as they started up the hill and Sister Paddles stood up and demanded that they go even faster.

At the top of the hill the land flattened, encircled by trees.  In the distance were barns, corrals and outbuildings.  Sister Paddles was enjoying her ride and pointed out the buildings up ahead.

       “Head them for the big barn,” she said.  “And soon they will see their new home for a while.”  She chuckled and sat back.  Jan trudged along with sweat dripping and smearing the coating of shit that covered her.  The leash knots bit harder against her clit in the bent position, compounded by the leash having been doubled back and passed through her slit again.

       “Look alive as we come to the barnyard you turd cunts.  You’re moving up in our world!”  Sister Paddles seemed quite satisfied with her comment.  The two slaves jogged alongside and flicked their whips until the team of eight was trotting into the barnyard with the two ox-women riding on the tailboard of the wagon.

To be continued