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CHAPTER 7
The dog shit was even worse than I thought, but I remained as still as I could as it was smeared all over my face and all through my hair.
“Good, now on your knees, the two of you, facing each other,” Mistress Joanna ordered. “Come close, rub those shitty tits together and let’s see a big kiss for each other.”
Auntie Irene pulled me to her in a huge embrace, rubbing her shit-covered chest against mine. She kissed me deeply, her tongue reaching into my mouth, then she pulled back and rubbed her shit-packed hair across my face. It was the most disgusting thing I could never have imagined. But it got worse.
“Now, both of you, wipe and scrape each others tits clean, then squash the crap you gather into your own filthy cunt crack,” Mistress Joanna ordered, flicking her crop against my back. I ran my fingers over Irene’s tits, scraping with my nails as she did the same to me, then slapping and rubbing the residue into my own pussy hair as I saw Irene do as she was ordered.
“Now, Auntie cunt, on your back with legs spread wide,” Joanna said, “and you training slut, wipe her cunt and crack clean with your hair.”
“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said as I dropped to Irene’s crotch, using the hair at the back of my neck which seemed to be less caked with shit than the top and sides. I figured that this was Mistress Joanna’s way of ensuring that my hair would be completely covered by the time we were done. I rubbed and scrubbed, turning my head and neck as I pressed against her.
“Stop, slut. Now, you had better hope she’s good and clean, because now you will lick that slit with your sinful slut tongue,” Mistress Joanna purred as she grinned a truly cruel smile down at me. “Irene, I want you slap and pinch your own baggy tits and nipples as this ignorant untrained slut licks you clean.”
“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, as I started down on Irene’s gray-streaked pussy hair.
“Yes Honored Sister, I will do as you command, thank you,” Irene added.
I slurped my tongue along her slit as I heard Irene loudly slapping at her own tits, and groaning slightly as she stopped to pinch and twist her own nipples.
“That’s it, old bitch girl, you know how I want those nipples treated,” Joanna observed, “unless you want some clamps to go on them, too. That’s quite good. Now, get back to slapping those sag bags, about ten on each,” she ordered. “And you slut,” she said, poking me with the butt of the crop, “get that tongue out there and lick deeper and harder.”
“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, trying to follow her orders as I fought back the vomit that was coming up my throat. Oh, God, I thought, please don't let me puke or she will kill me. The gorge rising up slowly subsided as I choked it back and stroked Irene’s slit by tossing my head as much as licking at her with my tongue. Joanna sat back in the cart.
“That will do for now, cunts, except for both of you stand before me, hands at attention.”
“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said.
“Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” Irene chimed in. We stood there with hands locked behind our heads, covered in crap.
“Turn, bend and grab your ankles, both of you,” she said, rising from her seat.
“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, as Irene followed in with her “Yes, Honored Sister, thank you.” Mistress Joanna swished the air a couple of times with her crop, then laid five stinging swats across each of our asses so quickly that we couldn’t answer of react. As she stepped away to resume her seat, we both launched into our simultaneous “thank you.”
“Now, dear Auntie, for the rest of the afternoon, you are to be chained at the entrance to the kennel run so that when we let the dogs out they can each stop and mark you as their own territory. We will have you plugged tightly so that none of my ‘tough-guy’ dogs can mount you, as much fun as that may be. Miss Josie will be here at 6 pm to deliver your next 36 strokes and she will release you and take you to the wash rack for a thorough cleaning and cleansing. You will then report to me at the Main House for the evening’s entertainment and I will deliver your midnight treatment myself before collaring you to my private toilet bowl where you will sleep tonight. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” Auntie Irene answered, the agony of what she was about to endure plain on her expression.
“Good. Then you will be out here bright and early tomorrow, on puppy poop patrol all morning once again.” Mistress Joanna shifted on her seat cushion. “And I have a special treat for tomorrow, too,” Joanna added. “Sister Rose will be here in the morning to deliver your noon and 6 pm farewell treatments.”
I could see the dismay and near-horror on Irene’s face. Joanna grinned and looked toward me.
“Sister Rose is a sister indeed,” Joanna smiled, “She is Irene’s real-life older sister and my dear Mother, not to mention one of the senior sisters of our Committee, second only to Sister Beatrice herself,” she added proudly. “I am sure you will show proper gratitude for her attentions tomorrow.”
“Yes Honored Sister, I will do as you expect, thank you,” Irene said, her voice quavering with the idea of her older sister putting her through this kind of pain and humiliation.
“Oh, I know you will, because Rose won’t have it any other way,” Mistress Joanna added. “It’s really too bad that you won't get to see it tomorrow, slut girl,” she said to me, then she picked up a small radio device from the dashboard.
“Fatty, come out to the kennel gate and pick up your poop slut,” she said. Joanna reached behind her and came up with two rough ropes with large loops in them, almost like nooses. “Put these on, I don’t want my leashes getting dirty,” she said, tossing them to us and taking the trailing ends as she started the cart moving. We hurried to comply and then jogged behind the cart, trying to stay on pace. As we went down the slope toward the kennel gate Joanna made another call on her radio.
“Piggy bitch, meet me at the wash rack to clean this dog turd girl,” she said. Oh boy, I thought, this ought to be some fun. But then, anything would be better than being covered in dog shit and old lady piss.
We stopped near the kennel gate and Sister Fatty came out to collect Auntie Irene. Sister Fatty was quite aptly named. She must have weighed in around 250 pounds or better. She wore what looked like a long grey tank top that came to her knees, with no bra under it. She carried a heavy leash and collar and what looked like two large cucumbers.
“Tits out Fatty, tits out!” Joanna yelled as the woman approached.
“Yes, Madame,” Fatty answered, pulling down on the neckline of her top and drooping her huge hanging tits over it.
“And roll up the bottom, belly it up!” Joanna added.
Fatty set the cucumbers and the leash and collar on the ground. “Yes, Madame,” Fatty replied, rolling the hem of her shirt up to her belly button.
“How many of these outfits do we have for you?” Joanna asked.
“Four, Madame,” Sister Fatty replied, “I wear one for a week at a time and they are washed once a month with the horse blankets.”
“Cut this one off at belly level and wear it that way for the next week, with tits always out,” Joanna ordered.
“As you wish, Madame,” Fatty replied.
Joanna tossed the rope to Fatty and turned the cart toward the stables further down the slope. “Stuff those cukes in tight to both holes, now. Have fun, Auntie, and I will see you at supper time,” she called out as she accelerated and I broke into a full run to keep up. We came to a stop outside the horse barn at a concrete platform with open steel troughs and a series of large hoses hanging on racks. Mistress Joanna beeped the horn and Sister Piggy came running out from a lean-to at the side of the barn. She was another fat one, though not as fat as the one they called Sister Fatty, but she was still big enough, with a drooping double roll belly and a pair of saggy tits that hung below her belly button. She wore a pair of Daisy Duke style cutoffs and work boots with nothing else except a rubber pig’s snout on an elastic string around her head. Sister Piggy came to the driver’s side of the cart and stood at attention with hands clasped behind her head.
“Here I am to serve your pleasure, Ma’am,” said, panting heavily.
“Good, then on your knees and show me those tits” Joanna ordered.
Piggy knelt and lifted up her sagging tits, her hands trembling. Mistress Joanna tapped at them with her crop before swatting down hard across each nipple, then across the sides of Piggy’s big tit bags.
“Lift them up, pinch those nips,” Joanna said with a couple of uppercut strokes of the crop.”
“Yes, Madame,” Piggy answered, lifting her tits by the nipples, stretching them up with her hands at shoulder level as Joanna repeatedly snapped the crop on the white undersides of Piggy’s fat boobs.
“All right, now scrub this thing squeaky clean, don’t spare the brushes. Then I want you to lather up and give her one of those titty scrubs you like so much. I will be in the stable office.” Joanna turned the cart and left us there at the wash rack. Piggy grinned at me.
“Okay dog shit girl,” she smiled, “over there against that rack, legs and arms spread wide, head back, eyes shut.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, not sure how to respond. She balled her fist and hit me hard in the gut. I doubled over, the wind knocked right out of me.
“You call me Lady Piggy, understand?” she said, pulling my head up and spitting in my face.
“Yes, Lady Piggy, thank you,” I responded, catching my breath.
“Get backup there, and spread ‘em wide,” she ordered. As I struggled back to my feet and assumed the position again on the rack rail she turned on a hose and set the nozzle to a hard spray. It felt like a fire hose when it hit me. But it felt good to have the dog shit washed off me. Piggy hosed me up and down, all over, ordering me to turn to the back then to the front again and again until I thought my skin would be rubbed off. Then she stirred up a huge bucket of soapsuds and started scrubbing me with two stiff brushes. If I had thought the spray was bad, I really was sure the bristles would rip my skin. She paid extra attention to scrubbing my crotch and ass crack, of course, then grabbed my hair and pulled me down to kneel at the bucket.
There was some really strong astringent smell as Piggy squeezed some shampoo into my shit-caked hair and dunked me in the bucket, scrubbing away and lathering it, then dunking me again. She stood me to my feet, pushing me back to the wash rack.
“Attention, cunt!” she yelled, tipping the bucket into a floor drain and reaching for the hose to rinse it down.
“Yes, Lady Piggy, thank you,” I answered, my teeth chattering from the cold water. Piggy poured some new soap into the bucket and began refilling it with hot water this time. She stepped over to a cabinet and brought out two large sponges and plunged them into the soapy water then squeezed more of the liquid soap onto her tits, working up the lather. She stepped up to me and began to rub and scrub me with her huge soapy tits, slapping them across my face several times and then sliding down to rub her tits against mine. She continued her scrubbing, stopping to lather up again and dropping to her knees to scrub my pussy with her nipples. She had me turn, bend and spread my cheeks as she drew first one nipple then the other up and down my butt crack then slapping them across my cheeks.
She worked her way down my legs, then up my back until her monster boobs hung over my shoulders, then turning me back into her where she placed her yawning mouth over mine and I felt her tongue going deep into my mouth as she sucked at my lips like a Hoover. Her hands were rubbing and pinching my tits then I felt her fingers working into my pussy, twisting in and up to hit my G-spot and digging in even harder. When she finally released me I was staggering and panting to catch my breath. She laughed and rubbed my nose with her pig snout.
“Oh, you are a tasty little bitch,” she said, pushing me down onto my back on the wet concrete. “And I'm gonna eat you up alive.” She lunged down onto me with her lips already on my twat, her teeth biting at my labia as she pinched my clit and pulled and tugged at it. She chewed and bit, and I squirmed under her weight, trying to relieve a bit of the pain but she pulled even harder on my clit.
Then I heard Mistress Joanna’s voice.
“Get up from there, you disgusting pigs!” she yelled at both of us, as though I was a willing partner. “Attention, both of you!” We got to our feet and assumed the position as Joanna walked up to Piggy, her face glaring right at Piggy’s nose. “So does she taste good enough for you, Pig?”
“Yes, Madame, quite tasty,” she replied with a grin.
Mistress Joanna sunk a fist into Piggy’s fat belly, doubling her over. AS she bent, Joanna grabbed Piggy’s hair with both hands and tossed her down, face first as she booted her in the belly then a swift roundhouse kick to the fat ass.
“Stay right there, you filthy sow,” Joanna growled as she stomped over to a series of narrow hoses on a side rack. She turned a valve and came back with the hose and it’s narrow nozzle. “Let’s give you a taste of this, shall we? No lube needed.” Mistress Joanna shoved the nozzle into Piggy’s ass and released the hose clip. “About a half gallon of cold water enema will straighten you up, don’t you think, Pig face?”
“Yes, Madame, whatever you wish,” Piggy answered, still trying to get her breath after being dropped so hard. I could see Piggy cramping up with the enema flow, and her belly began to droop even more as the water filled her guts.
Joanna clipped the hose and ordered me to turn off the valve as she gave a mighty shove to the nozzle, driving it deeper into Piggy’s ass.
“You will hold it there for another five minutes while I decide how you are to expel, understood, sow?
“Yes, Madame, whatever you say,” was the answer.
Joanna walked back toward the stable building, leaving me there to observe Piggy’s torment. She was shaking and her teeth chattered with the chilly water and the pressure on her gut. After a few minutes Joanna reappeared with a young girl, probably in her early twenties, wearing only sneakers. She had small pointy breasts and a pinched-looking face with straggly brown hair and she carried a five-gallon bucket. Joanna pointed and she set the bucket down beside Piggy.
“OK, Pig, up with you,” Joanna commanded. “Chelsea, pull the plug.”
The girl helped Piggy to her feet, straddling her over the bucket, then she reached down and yanked the nozzle out of Piggy’s ass. A torrent of stink and foul liquid gushed out of Piggy and into the bucket.
“Make sure she stands squatting over it, and she is not allowed to sit on or even to touch the bucket with any part of her disgusting hog’s body,” Joanna told the girl she had called Chelsea. Mistress Joanna picked up my leash from the fence and wrapped it around my throat in a temporary collar as she pulled me toward her golf cart. As we reached the cart Joanna turned and called back to the girl. “And when she’s finally finished, have her wear the bucket as a hat and sit in her own dripping mess for an hour before you make her clean it all up.”
“Yes, Madame, I will,” Chelsea called back. I ran to keep up with the cart as we headed back to the Main House. Joanna pulled up at the rear of the big house, parked the cart and tugged on my leash to follow her back inside the side garage door. As we entered back toward the kitchen, Mistress Joanna removed the leash collar, hung it on a peg and yanked my head down as she strode back through the kitchen dragging me along by my hair, bent double and trying to keep up. We went down the hall and approached the study when I saw Miss Josie’s shoes from the corner of my eye. She rushed over to open the study door as we entered and Joanna flung me to the floor as she released my hair. The door slammed and I found myself staring straight at Mistress Joanna’s maroon boots.
“Show proper respect,” Joanna said as she tipped the toe of her left boot up to my lips. I kissed it and started licking along the length of her boot when she pulled the sole up. “Lick the bottom clean, too,” she said.
I could see bits of horse crap from the stables clinging to the welting of the boot where the upper met the sole. This is going to be awful, I told myself as my tongue stretched out, almost with a mind of its own, for I didn’t dare not obey even the smallest command. I already felt the training routine sinking in.
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