Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (7 page)

Where the
Milk Comes From

Ellen Levine
stood before Mistress Wright. She shivered not so much from the cold, but more
from fear of what was to come next. Released from her most recent punishment
following nearly the day of impalement on the post and brought to the Head’s
office in chains, the girl with the model figure stood and shook. The post
discipline had marked the culmination of having spent a week chained to a steel
bed frame with heavy steel cuffs on her wrists, above her elbows and knees, a
heavy collar around her neck, a thick steel belt around her waist and short
chains holding all of these restraints closely the bed frame so that she lay,
spread out like a four legged animal, ready for disemboweling. Only they hadn’t
filleted her. They beat her. The staff had flogged her daily whenever they felt
like it and fed and watered her minimally. A feeding gag remained strapped in
her mouth throughout the days of torment and her eyes had been taped so that
she was unable to see what was coming.

Almost happily,
the girl submitted to being bound a bit differently when she was released from
the bed, hosed down and scrubbed before being taken to see The Head. Her manacled
wrists were pulled up to her shoulder blades behind her and her small,
high-heel shod feet were but a few inches apart because of the short steel
hobbles. She was collared and gagged and stared straight ahead, waiting for the
decree that she knew would come. Her nipple rings shook with her knees,
vibrating in synch to the shivering of her whole body.

“Levine,” the
Head Mistress rumbled, then paused as she stared out the window behind her
walnut desk. She didn’t look at the girl. She was studying the ice that hung
from the trees outside. In the early morning sunlight the crystals sparkled and
shone, sending sparks of light into the darkened office. “Levine,” she
repeated, “I don’t know what to do with you, but I think a trip to the dairy is
in order.”

Ellen Levine
shook even more than she had before. The dairy was Hell with the capital H.
The Dairy. Oh God, no
, Ellen thought.
She whimpered into the leather gag. Her knees shook, rattling the chains that
led from her collar to her feet.

“Three months of
dairy duty may give you a new and more positive perspective on things,”
Mistress Wright intoned, still studying the light show outside. “I think you
are sturdy enough to be of use to us down there and besides, we can always use
another producing cow.” Speaking the last word, Wright brought down her leather
crop against the gleaming side of highly polished right boot, producing a loud,
threatening, audible slap. This was the signal to the grooms, who had been
standing in the shadows at the doorway, waiting for the sentence. They advanced
and took Levine’s leash, leading her out of the office and to a waiting van
parked outside. The girl shuffled and stumbled through the hall, out the
doorway and into the frigid Vermont winter morning. A few shuffling chained steps
from the brick porch, she was hoisted bodily into the van, which quickly drove
away, headed for the distant dairy barn.
            

The ride took
only a few minutes. Soon, they were on the south side of the estate, stopped
outside a large concrete building with two steel silos and several metal vent
stacks spaced along the high angled roof. Both grooms guided Levine through the
white, metal doors and into the warm interior of the barn. The girl stopped in
her tracks, struggling against her bonds and trying desperately to flee. The
sight that greeted her eyes was enough to panic even the most hardened of
students at the farm and suddenly, all that she had heard and wondered about
concerning the dreaded dairy was there, right in front of her, in blue-green florescent-lit
detail. Before her were lines of bent over, naked bodies, held in place by
rusting metal dairy stocks. The backs of the captives were horizontal and their
heads poised over a moving metal conveyor. Each imprisoned girl wore a padded
rubber collar that protected her throat from the steel stock pipes that
surrounded her neck. In each mouth was a permanent gag with a small hose
through the center. The hoses led to the conveyor, dragging across the slop
that periodically moved along the belt. It was through these hoses that they
sucked up the semi-liquid meals from the slow-moving conveyor. Hands chained
behind their backs, feet spread and locked to vertical posts behind them, this
was the dairy herd that Ellen had heard so cautiously whispered about in
classes and during breaks. It was said that few ever left the dairy barn, once
they arrived there. There were tales of girls having their breasts so engorged
with milk that the nipples dragged on the barn floor. Ellen had been told by a
senior that the average milking cow, after a few weeks on the hormone-rich
diet, grew breasts that weighed as much as forty pounds each!

The horror that
she heard about was real. It was right here, in front of her and she was about
to join to ranks of kneeling young women with huge breasts, eyes staring
passively at nothing, empty faces looking lost and hopeless. She heard the
occasional moans and groans and farts and jingles of the chains and harness.
She heard the slurping of the feed as it was sucked up through the holes in the
gags.

The barn stank
of excrement and silage, the former from the nude dairy herd that was forced to
perform their body functions in the stalls where they knelt; the latter a
rotting concoction of grains, drugs, appetite stimulators and hormones that was
mixed in monster blenders and sent down the conveyor lines every three hours.

The cowgirls
wore padded metal straps around their upper torso to support the heavy milking
gear that was attached to their breasts. Red rubber cups surrounded each
massive, swollen tit and from each cup a white tube reached down and connected
to brass fittings in the base of each stall stock. Every four hours, the barn’s
milking machines turned on and sucked the pendulous tits dry, squeezing and
sucking the perforated nipples of each captive girl until no further liquid
flowed.

They were
treated as cattle, fed as cattle and milked as a herd. Those who failed to
produce enough milk to justify their remaining on dairy duty were removed from
the stocks and sent elsewhere on the farm.

Ellen was led,
feet dragging and head shaking in rejection of the scene she was witnessing, to
an open stall. The grooms pushed her to her knees and removed her metal collar,
replacing it with the heavy steel and rubber one. Her neck was shoved between
the steel pipe uprights of the stocks and the locking mechanism engaged.
Slowly, the circle of rusted metal surrounded her neck and collar with heavy
tubular steel. Some adjustments were made to get her in the right position so
that her back was horizontal and her knees in the rubber padded indentations in
the concrete floor. Her chained wrists were pulled up behind her and locked to
an overhead bar in the stall. Her ankle cuffs were locked three feet apart to
the rear uprights.

A groom brought
a set of milking apparatus to the stall and the outfitting began. First, the
wide metal strap was locked around her chest with a simple padlock in the
middle of her back. Someone had already made sure that the unit matched Ellen’s
measurements and the strap, which had no adjustments, locked securely around
the girl’s shaking torso. Her heavy ringed breasts hung below, waiting in
horrified anticipation for the enclosure in the massive red suction cups. These
sturdy rubber cups were kept aside while the grooms seized each hanging breast
and applied a pliers-like device to the extended center of her nipples, just
ahead of the stainless steel rings. With a squeeze of the pliers, the
fear-stiffened nipples were punctured twice, a dual hollow needle in the jaws
of the pliers doing the piercing quickly and painfully. One groom held the
girl’s breast tightly while the other applied the pliers. Ellen shook and
screamed as the first nipple was bitten by the terrible pliers. She tried to
bang her head on the metal stocks, shaking her bound body and twisting her
torso in an unsuccessful effort to get free before the pliers found their
second target.

“Stop that,”
spat the groom who was struggling to hold the quivering tit in one hand and had
her other arm around Ellen’s tiny waist. “I’ll have her use this on your nose
and then on your tongue if you don’t stop fighting us right now.”

Ellen, still
screaming into the gag, lessened her struggles and the second groom pierced the
remaining nipple.

 
The funnel-like cups were placed over each
breast and the bleeding nipples pulled through the holes in the center of the
cup. The rings too were yanked through the stretched holes in the cups. Once
they were through, the rings held the nipples outside the cups and pulled the
breasts into the cups. Rubber and metal fasteners on the harness secured the
cups in place and attached them to the chest straps that ran above and below
Ellen’s breasts. The straps were rubber-covered metal and tended to squeeze the
vast, soft milk mounds together. On the outside of each cup was a bayonet type
locking fitting that surrounded the nipples. Over this, a metal tube, about
three inches long, was normally placed and twisted into the cup’s lock fitting.
But because of Ellen’s large, heavy rings, the tubes could not be locked into
place. Both grooms contemplated this situation and finally settled on an
acceptable, but uncomfortable, (for Ellen), solution. A much smaller set of
tubes was produced and the bloody nipples inserted into them with the rings sliding
into small slots cut into the open end of the tubes. They then used nylon cable
ties to connect the tubes to the small metal staples on the outside of the
cups, pulling the ties up tight until the tube-ends were flush with the rubber
cup exterior. Ellen’s rings now were trapped between the metal tube and the
rubber cup, fitting neatly into the tube grooves.

From the tubes,
hoses descended and then joined together with a Y fitting before connecting to
the suction pump fitting on the side of the stall. This connection had several
valves and gauges used to adjust the milking pressure and flow for each
individual cow. Ellen still shook and her shaking made the cups jiggle and the
hoses wiggle about, the rings jingling curiously against the metal tubes.

Both grooms
checked their work, making sure all connections were secure and that Ellen was
prepared for the next milking session that was to take place within the hour.
The torso strap was locked in place, the suction cups were snugly sealed over
the girl’s breasts. An epoxy-based, syrupy, white sealer had been smeared over
the inside of each cup before it was placed on Ellen’s breasts. Now this sealer
was beginning to set and the girl could feel her soft breast tissue being fused
to the inside of the red rubber cups. Once they were in place, the sealer set
quickly, assuring that the cups would not easily be removed. The cups were
locked to Ellen’s chest strap and the tubes were connected to the cups. Ellen
was ready to be milked, but before they left, a final item of equipment was to
be fitted to the tormented girl. From a box they carried, the grooms produced a
heavy leather belt like that worn by the rest of the cowgirls. It had a center
strap that held three different devices, two of which were common probes and
one that looked like a small rubber donut. The belt was tightly cinched around
Ellen’s waist and the crotch strap with its special attachments was passed
between her spread legs. The grooms then carefully adjusted the strap so that
the two probes were inserted into the girl’s lower apertures and the little
donut was perfectly positioned over and around the girl’s clit. The first groom
pulled up tightly on the end of the strap, forcing the twin plugs deeper into
place in the appropriate lower orifices. The strap held the donut snugly in
place as well. A final tug on the splitting strap brought a long low groan from
the impaled girl and the grooms looked at each other in agreement that the
plugs and clit holder were indeed in place correctly. On the outside of the
crotch strap were two brass hose connections and a smaller brass fitting over
the donut. Ellen couldn’t see them, but it would soon become evident as to what
these and the accompanying devices were for.

The grooms moved
back down the aisle and towards the exit, stopping at a small, cozy office just
inside the door. They spoke to the milking assistant, a former student at the
school who had taken the job rather than return to a dull and unhappy life with
her parents. The 20-year old assistant smiled at the grooms, kissed one on the
lips and spoke quietly to them both before they left.

“This little
number is in for a real shock,” groom number one said, giggling as the
assistant turned and looked out the dirty glass window and down the line. They
all three then looked at the video display that slowly panned the interior of
the barn. When the camera passed Ellen’s stall, the assistant stopped the
camera with a joy stick control and zoomed in on the tortured weeping face of
Ellen Levine.

“Ah yes, what a little
doll,” said the assistant, whose name was Karla.

“Isn’t she
sweet,” said groom number two. “I hope we get a shot at her before she gets too
big.”

“Well, don’t
plan on it, Sweetheart. You know how Madeline is about her stock,” said Karla.

“Yeah, I know.
But she could share a few now and then, ya know. It wouldn’t kill her to spread
the herd out for fun now and then.”