Submissive Wives Academy of Training

SUBMISSIVE WIVES ACADEMY OF TRAINING

Chapter Two – First Day

Jan crawled as fast as she could move, squinting against the shit flying up around her face from the woman in front of her.  The shit and mud mixture was deep enough to submerge her up to hr shoulders as she moved through it.  The smell was overpowering and it was all she could do not to gag and just keep moving.  She felt the mud bottom of the trench ramp up a slight incline, as she knew she was coming to the end of the trench.  Another hard stroke from a cane landed across her tailbone as she felt the depth lessen and her tits swung free of the stinking slurry, then only her hands and knees were still in it.   She felt a hand grab her under each armpit and draw her up onto her feet.  She tried to stand and slipped on the slime under her feet.

       The hands propelled her forward and she stumbled, her head down, managing to keep her balance.   Looking down, he saw two pairs of feet in rubber boots as she gasped for breath.  She felt a boot kick into her side as she fell, then rolled down a sandy bank. The grit scraped her sore skin and caked onto the scum of shit and mud that covered her from the neck down.  She saw the three women who had crawled the trench before her. One was getting to her feet under the repeated blows of a rod swung by a short chunky Trainer and the other two were already standing at attention in Position One.  Jan rolled to a stop and scrambled to her feet, hurrying over to line up with the others and take up what seemed to be the required posture.  As she clasped her hands behind her head she felt thick clumps of shit in the strands of her hair.  The Trainer stepped over to where Jan stood, hands locked and elbows back to more fully present her tits.  The trainer took Jan’s elbows and brought them together in front of her face, yanking and pulling them so that the shit caked on her forearms was rubbed onto her face.

       The woman sneered and almost giggled as she grabbed Jan’s right wrist, pushed the palm so it was spread flat and then slowly drew it down over Jan’s face, smearing it with the residue from the trench.  She let go of the wrist and quickly swung the rod up under Jan’s tits, catching them both just under the nipples.  By then two more women had rolled down the sand bank.  One of them, a blonde with big tits and a huge ass and thighs, just lay there gasping for air.         The other one was an average looking redhead with short hair.  The red welts and marks stood out on the pale white of her skin, even through the coating of shit and sand that covered most of her.  She struggled to her feet quickly and rushed to Jan’s left, assuming the position.  The Trainer had her cattle prod out and was jamming it into the fat blonde’s crotch and belly.

       “Get up you pile of blubber!” the Trainer hissed, swinging her birch rod back forth across the thighs of the big blonde.  “Up, now and in Position One.” Another woman came down the bank, though it seemed she had been thrown down from the top rather than rolling as she skidded to a stop on her belly and rolled over, her face half-covered with sand.  She was a tall slim brunette with hair down her back as she coughed, then rose to her hands and knees. The Trainer swung a backhand stroke onto the brunette’s ass as she whirled back to connect another swat onto the blonde’s ample rump, then repeated the backhand move again as the brunette rushed to join the line.  The big blonde crawled towards the line and pushed herself up onto her feet, still steadying with her hands as she scuttled away from the stinging rod.

       By then the last of the eight had rolled down the bank.  She was a short woman who looked older than the rest, with very short platinum white hair and small tits.  The huge nipples and areolas made them look like targets on her nearly flat chest.  The woman got up but fell back in the sand, brushing against the calves of the Trainer’s legs just as the Trainer had jerked the big blonde into the attention posture in the line.  The Trainer turned and swung her rod in one swift move, catching the woman across the hip and thigh, then following with a flurry of crisscross strokes as the woman crawled and scrambled to the end of the line.

       Jan tried to get a better glimpse of the three women who had preceded her into the line.  The one just her left seemed average height and build except that she seemed to have one of those enormous butts that was way out of proportion to the rest of her.  She couldn’t really see the other two and she didn’t chance turning her head to check them out.  Never mind, she thought, we’re all in this together anyway.  She looked up at the top the sandy bank and saw the two women in rubber boots and gloves coming down to the line of eight subjects.

       “Welcome to the sandbox,” the first one said, as she stood before them.  She wore a rubber apron that she started to remove as she spoke.  “I just love to play here, and you will too, trust me,” she said, pulling off the rubber gloves that went nearly to her elbows.  “You are here to show your obedience, but then you’ve heard that, haven’t you?  But since you all are so stupid and not even in possession of a brain we will have to repeat it many times while you are here.”  She walked along the line, slowly rubbing the shit-covered gloves across noses and foreheads of the eight subjects standing at rigid attention. 

       “First, we will practice the Positions of Presentation.  I now how stupid and ignorant you all are, but you were instructed to learn and practice these in the weeks of your applications and screening.  We will see, won’t we?”  She turned and paced back along the line.  “Position One seems to be in order.  And peaking of order, for our first time through we will command them in order.  Later, we will command them in any order we like, and every one of you better get them right or you will all be punished.  That’s how it is at the beginning here, any one of you fucks up on something, you all feel the punishment.  But then, you aren’t allowed to think about who fucked up in the first place, you are only allowed to obey,” she continued.  “Now, Position Two, present those tits.

       Every one of the eight instantly changed position, spreading the feet to shoulder width, toes pointed out, knees bent almost at a right angle.  Hands were under tits, lifting and presenting them.  “Not bad, not great.  But we will work on it” the woman said, still pacing back and forth but now tapping on each subject with the tip of a riding crop as she passed.  “When Position Two is called, along with ‘Present Tits,’ this is the expected posture.  If we should call for Position Two with ‘Display Tits,’ then tits are held up by pinching the nipples to show those tender undersides.  We may even call for ‘Display Cunt’ in this Position, which will require pulling the labia wide open for inspection or punishment.  Now, let me see Position Three what we call the hangers.”

       The line of women quickly moved, keeping the feet spread by locking the legs straight and bending at the waist, spine parallel to the ground, pointing the tits to hang straight down with hands clasped in the small of the back.  “Keep those legs locked and that back nice and even so those tits hang just like I like them,” said, giving a couple of corrective swats as she reviewed the line.  “If you hear ‘Display Ass’ along with a command for ‘Three,’ the hands will spread the cheeks nice and wide.  Let’s see that NOW!” she snapped. “Position Three, Display Ass.”  Eight pairs of hands quickly grabbed ass cheeks and pulled them wide apart.  The Trainer walked around the line and behind the women, rubbing or tapping, occasionally swatting her crop lightly across hips or thighs.  Jan felt the crop rub along her crack, then a vicious stroke came down right on her tender asshole. Jan’s knees wanted to buckle, but she held position.

       “Next, let me see position Four, the Quad, “ the Trainer ordered.  As its name implied it was a four-point stance, with legs remaining locked straight and spread, hands on the ground at the same width as feet, arms locked straight, eyes looking down.  Jan’s hair fell over her face and she could feel and smell the shit clumped in it.  “We’ll hold this one for a while, just to let all those obedient knees and thighs get good and tight,” the Trainer laughed as she stepped over to where the other two Trainers stood.  “Why don’t we have Sister Cane here take you through the next postures.”

       “Why thank you, Sister Crop,” her companion said as she walked to the line of subjects all in the quad stance, removing her gloves and pulling a rattan cane from her belt.  The one called Sister Cane was medium height and a chunky build, with heavy thighs, a thick neck and double shin.  She wore her dark auburn hair pulled back with a purple scarf.  Her boots made a squishy sound as she wandered around the line and took up a position behind the eight.  The telltale swish of air as the cane swung was followed by a few different strokes landing on various hips and thighs, first at one end of the line, then in another part of it. 

Jan felt the air move as the cane swung, purposely missing a square shot across her ass cheeks.  Sister Cane gave out a series of gratified sighs as she sliced and slashed down on butt cheeks that were by now almost in spasms from the strain of holding the position.  “Hold that position, all of you,” she chided, “or you’ll be verrry, veerrrry sorry,” she chimed out in a singsong voice.  “Now, when I command, you will be moving on to Position Five, or what it like to call the Star, from its five points of contact.  The five are knees, elbows and forehead, with the ass as the highest point of the body.  Position Five, NOW!” She came down across the shoulders of the big blonde woman to Jan’s right with her cane as all eight dropped to their knees with heads down between forearms and asses pointing up.

       Jan knew this pose, having spent a lot of time in it with the games she and Dave had played at home, but she somehow felt the swats and spanks would not be as playful as Dave’s had been.  A boot pushed down on her neck, shoving her forehead further into the rough texture of the sand.  Jan glanced to the side and saw the other Trainer shove a boot under the nose of the woman to her left, then push her head down onto the boot with her cane.  “Worship that boot,” the Trainer snarled, “worship it good,” as she worked the cane, rubbing the woman’s nose onto the top of her shit-spattered boot.

       Sister Cane seemed to be coming down the line and placing cross-hatched X’s on rumps as she did, and Jan felt the sharp sting of one stroke then another.  She held herself, trying not to flinch, seeing the boots of Sister Crop walking in front of her and feeling the whoosh of the crop as it landed on her back.  God, how many of these will they land on me, she thought, knowing that at this point it didn’t really matter.

       “Time for number Six, the Open Flower!” Sister Cane announced.  “Do it, now!”

Each subject squatted up, then lay down on her back, with knees up and spread wide, head slightly back, eyes closed, and arms extended beside the head.  The grains of sand digging into the sores and welts of her back and ass were almost unbearable for Jan as she took up the posture, trying to keep her throbbing calves and thighs held tight and in position.

       “Sometimes we like to vary this one with a command to ‘Display cunt,’” Sister Crop said.  “In that case, the hands will be behind knees, holding them wider apart, for an even better cunt display, especially when some extra attention is in order.”  Jan could feel the toe of a boot working into her slit as the Trainer continued.  “And when we want some extra fun, we can do some cunt pickling, can’t we Sister?”

       “Oh, absolutely,” Sister Cane replied with a mocking enthusiasm.  “We love cunt pickles.  I have some right here.”  She walked to the side and came back with a large glass jar of a greenish liquid with red and green pieces floating in it.  She picked up a large brush and stirred the jar’s contents, swirling them around.  “This flavor is my favorite, with jalapeño and habanera peppers in extra strong vinegar.”  Jan could smell the potent fumes from the jar as the Sister walked by their heads ad waved the jar about.

“Get ready for a taste of this!”  She took the brush and began wiping a generous portion of the pepper and vinegar mixture on each cunt and ass crack, scrubbing hard with the coarse bristles of the brush and smearing the mixture across the welts that marked each subject’s upper thighs.  Jan wasn’t ready for the painful burn that assaulted her most tender flesh as the combination of acids hit her crack and dribbled into her vagina.  There was more than one moan but amazingly, no one screamed.  Jan gritted her teeth and felt tears forming in her eyes that strained to stay shut.

       “Hmmm, nice appetizers, those cunt pickles,” Sister Crop laughed,  “ and soon we will have a lovely entrée before bedtime.  But right now, it’s time for Position Seven, the dreaded Diaper.  Do it now!”  Each woman knew the routine, and each generally disliked the Diaper position more than any other.  But they each remained on their back; legs only slightly bent, feet raised over the head with arms on floor, palms flat.  Jan held position, remembering the times Dave had put her in this for enemas or paddling and wondering if a more humiliating posture could be envisioned.  “Oh, Sister Cane, I can tell that some of them really don’t’ enjoy this one, but isn’t that too bad?”

       “Yes it is, Sister Crop, since they don’t have any choice, any opinion or any thought about it, not that they could think, anyway,” she replied, dribbling more of the vinegar on the line of cunts as she walked up and down.  “But since they are all here to obey and do nothing but obey, they will all continue to hold this posture for as long as we like, won’t they?”  Jan held position, and could feel the truth of the Trainer’s words.  She really wanted to obey.

       It seemed a long time that they were held there, but Jan’s sense of time was getting fussy by now.  Let’s see, she thought, we left before midnight, a ninety-minute ride here, and how long have we been doing this?  She looked up at the bright floodlights and she realized that it didn’t matter at all.  The only thing that mattered was obedience.

“Moving on now,” Sister Crop continued, let’s have Position Eight, the Dog, and let’s see it now!”  The subjects moved to hands and knees, with feet pulled up high, head down and eyes closed, like a poorly trained puppy about to be swatted with a rolled up newspaper.

“Let’s finish up our Posture review so we can get on to the next bit of fun, shall we Sister Cane?” 

“Why not?” Sister Cane replied.  “OK, almost back to the beginning with these last two.  Position Nine, kneel and Present!”  They all sat back on their heels, mimicking Position Two, only kneeling with thighs spread and hands presenting tits.

“And Position Ten, kneel at Attention!” replied Sister Crop.  It was similar to Position One, only on knees, with thighs spread wide and hips thrust forward, hands clasped behind the head.

As they held that form of attention, Sister Cane passed front of them, dipping corncobs in her jar of cunt pickles, and dropping one in front of each subject in the line.

Jan looked down and saw it, a dried corncob at least six or seven inches long, with a red string tied around it about an inch from the thick end.  Sister Cane had tossed it down then kicked it in the sand so that it was not only dipped in the burning brine, it had a gritty coat of sand on it.

“All right, here are the butt plugs for tonight,” Sister Crop smiled, “and be sure that it goes in far enough to hide the red line.  Now everybody pick it up, stand and bend knees.”  They all obeyed, struggling to their feet on cramped legs.  “Now plug those butt holes!” she ordered, “and make that red line disappear!”  Jan almost bit her tongue as she reached back and worked the plug into her ass.  The burn from before was even worse as it felt like her entire intestine was in flames, not mention the abrasion from the sand that stuck to it.   She worked it into place, fighting the burn that made her want to scream, and felt a sort length of the string that banded the butt plug hanging down a few inches from the end of it.

“Get them in there, up to the red string line, then give me Position Three and hang those tits,” Sister Crop commanded, stepping behind them to inspect each butt plug’s placement.  She heard a tinkling sound as Sister Cane came up behind her.  “Sister Cane is attaching a bell to each string’s end,” she said, “so that we can enjoy some music for a while.  Each bell has a different tone, so we can hear the harmonies you will give us.” 

Jan could feel the bell dangling on the string as she heard the next command

“Now swing those tits and shake those Asses and ring those bells!” Sister Crop shouted, “Keep ‘em moving, keep those bells ringing.”  The eight of them shook and moved, desperately trying to keep the noise coming from the bells as they wiggled asses and shook tits.  Jan’s moderately sized breasts were hurting from the swinging and shaking; she could only imagine what the ones with big tits felt like by now.  About the time one subject would slack up, a crop or cane would get her moving faster than before.

Just as she thought the pressure from the butt plug was unbearable, Sister Cane ordered them to halt, but remain in position.  “Time for a late night dinner.  Now, bring hands out, reach down and dig a bowl in the sand.”  She paused for a moment then continued. “Yes, I said a ‘bowl,’ not a hole.  Dig it out there, double handful size, now!”

She swung the cane through the air for effect, as she paced along the line.  “Every bowl all dug out nice and round?  Good.  Now Position Five, faces down in those bowls.”

“This is how you eat whatever we decide to feed you, and you will gobble it as fast as your stupid mouths will move, won’t you?”  Sister Crop said.  “Now, Sister Prod will be here with dinner in a few minutes, so in the meantime let’s work up some more appetite, eh?  So, up in Position Two, present those tits, and let me hear those bells chime.”  Everyone obeyed, and Jan could feel her thighs tighten as she stood with knees bent and swinging her hips to make the bell ring as the butt plug seemed to pound into her with each move she made.

“Now, while holding that position, you will run up the sand bank and continue to where you see the pole with a blinking red light.  You will run around it and then right back here where you will assume Position Four and wait for your dinners to be served. Move, now!” 

Jan struggled up the bank with her legs already shaking in spasms and for the first time got a look at the area.  It seemed to be about a hundred yards square with a chain link fence around it and a tall pole for the floodlights at each corner.  The sandbox was near one corner and the short pole with the red light looked to be almost in the opposite corner.  The entrance gate with the shit trench was over to her left.  The far corner ahead of her looked to have bars, benches and strange structures, but she put that out of her head as she moved along, practically in a duck walk with her knees bent deep to relieve some of the pressure.  The ground was packed and didn’t’ seem to bother her feet too much, but the pain from the butt plug got worse with each step.  Sister Cane and Sister Crop walked and jogged alongside the group with occasional strokes and verbal encouragement. 

Jan saw the post and circled around it, looking back at shat seemed a mile of ground to cover in that stressed posture, but she kept moving.  Just few yards past the pole, Sister Crop moved to her and the others, slashing her crop on thighs and asses to herd them off at an angle, making the trip back to the sandbox even further.  “Don’t just present those tits now,” she yelled, herding them along to a track covered with pebbles and gravel, “Display those tits!  Pinch ‘em up high and wide!”

Jan realized that she was almost at head of the line, and the tall brunette with the long hair was the only one ahead of her.  She pinched her nipples and pulled them up as she continued to duck walk along with the rocks of the gravel surface now bringing on even more discomfort.  “Higher on those tits!” Crop yelled, flicking her wrist and sending a shot to the soft underside of Jan’s left breast.  “Higher!” was followed by a matching shot to the right one as Jan squeezed on her nipples and ran on, trying to catch the leader. She was covered with sweat now, and as she looked down at her torso she saw the mixture of sand and shit in streaks down her belly.  She saw the top of the sand bank and hurried there, catching up with the leader as she reached the top.  Jan started down the bank as Sister Cane stuck out her implement, catching both of them below the knees and sending them skidding and rolling down with a fresh coating of sand on their bodies gleaming with sweat.

They both got up and crawled to the line of depressions dug in the sand and immediately took up the required Quad stance.  Wow, Jan thought, if my thighs and calves weren’t tensed enough fro that fun, now my hamstrings and glutes are really gonna feel this.  The burn started behind her knees and was enough to make Jan forget the burn up her asshole.  She heard the others arriving, tripped or kicked into the sand with the occasional stroke of a crop or cane whistling into a pop or thud as it struck its mark.

The Trainer with the cattle prod had appeared and began pouring something from a bucket into each of the bowls in the sand.  It was a thick grayish brown and Jan saw a generous portion in her bowl and the ones to either side.  Sister Crop approached, tapping the crop against her boot as she continued that annoying pacing back and forth.

“This is a special welcome meal made just for you.  It’s our own special blend of mashed beans and cheap canned dog food, along with some other secret ingredients.  It also has a combination of castor oil and other laxatives that will make for a wonderful shitting performance in the morning.  But, before you eat, I will ask Sister Prod to season each bowl for you.”

The one called Prod walked by each bowl, shaking generously from a big bottle of Tabasco sauce, dripping it all over each serving, then before moving on she took a handful of sand and sprinkled it all over the surface.

“Thank you Sister,” Crop said, “that looks just scrumptious.  Now, when you hear my whistle, you will all drop to Position Five and begin to eat. When I blow the whistle again, every bowl had better be empty.”  The whistle blew and they all dug into the terrible mixture in front of them.  Jan’s eyes watered from the hot sauce and she could feel her sinuses burning but she kept gagging down the pasty stuff, ignoring the sand that caked on her lips and nose even as she swallowed the sand coating the so-called food.  Jan realized that she hadn’t eaten since noon on the day before, that having been part of the instructions.  It wasn’t that she was so hungry, she knew by now that she had to obey.

She struggled to get the last bits of the mess, and by the time she got them into her mouth they were sticky little balls covered layers of sand.  The whistle blew a second time followed by commands from Sister Crop.

“Everybody stop, assume Position Ten, kneeling at Attention.”  She walked down the line, tipping each head back with the crop pushing up under the chin as she ordered “Mouth open, make sure it’s empty, and hold it there.” Sister Prod followed, carrying a large pitcher and pouring something over each face and into each mouth.  Jan gagged and sputtered as vile liquid hit her mouth.  It smelled and tased as awful as she thought it might. 

“Swallow it creatures, swallow it,” Sister Cane stepped in.  “That’s to keep you from being too de-hydrated overnight.  Sister Prod came back along the line and repeated her splashing over the face, up the nostrils and into the mouth of each subject.  “Not that it matters to you since you will drink whatever we order you to, but yes that is piss.  It’s whatever mix of piss we may have had mixed with some water, since we don’t want to waste pure piss on the likes of you, do we?  No, it’s much too precious a substance.  When we want you to drink pure piss, we will have you drink your own, won’t we?”

Jan found herself mentally agreeing.  Yes Mistress, she thought, I will drink it, the same as I will drink the piss of any of the others here because that’s what I’ll be told to do.

The floodlights on three of the corners went out, leaving tall shadows cast from the remaining ones, especially the shadow cast by Sister Crop who now stood at the top of the sand bank.  “Bedtime now,” she said.  “Position Four, the Quad once again.  Assume it now.  Then, in single file you will follow Sister Cane to the crib for sleep time.  Just follow the area that’s lit up.”  Sister Cane jogged along the line, giving each ass a quick stroke as the eight subjects started out to the far corner of the compound where the lights were still bright.  Jan discovered that if she moved her right foot and right hand together and the same with her left, that it was less strain on her legs and hips.  It reminded her of seeing a camel walk in the same manner.  She tried looking ahead but found that the blood flow to her head was easier if she just kept her head facing down as she plodded behind the swaying hips of the big blonde woman.  They came near the corner of the compound and here herded into a steel mesh enclosure that wasn’t more than couple of feet high and looked to be about three feet deep or so.  It reminded Jan of a dog cage, though it was several feet wide.  The she realized that all eight of them were going to be stuffed into it.  Indeed they were, as Sister Cane herded them in so they were packed tight, hips to hip.

“Hands and knees crawl in there.  We set this crib to be just the right size for the lot of you so that you’ll be nice and warm with each other.  Not that it matters, or that I really care, but it is now about 3:30 am.  You will be up and around by sunrise, which today I believe is about 5:30.  Enjoy your rest.  There will be a fresh Sister for you to obey in the morning.” 

Jan was wedged tight between the fat blonde and the woman she noticed before, the one with the really wide butt.  She couldn’t rise up or lie down.  In fact, she could barely move at all.  “No speaking.  We will hear so much as a whispered syllable, so don’t even think about it,” Sister Cane laughed, “you can’t think anyway, so don’t bother,” she said as she closed a gate that pressed up against the welted butts and thighs in the small enclosure, securing it with a latch.  “We thought about putting the canvas over the kennel for the night, but I’m sure you will enjoy the fresh air more than the stink of yourselves confined under a hot tarp.  Good night.”  Sister Cane walked away as the lights went out, plunging the area into total darkness.

Crouching on her knees and crushed in between the others, Jan wondered how she would ever get any sleep, but she felt the exhaustion sweeping over her and through every nerve.  She could also feel the rumble in her guts as the awful food took its toll.  The smell of herself and the others came back to her ass she thought about how much better it was not to be stuck inside a sweltering canvas tarp.  That was when she heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

To be continued