Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (18 page)

End Notes:

After
School

by

Jurgen
von
Stuka

Author’s
Note:

This book began as a sequel to SUMMER
SCHOOL, but the new reader can easily slip into this plot without worrying
about knowing who did what to whom before. Since there were some loose ends at
the end of the previous book, it seemed useful to provide a continuation.
However, to get the whole story, reading SUMMER SCHOOL first might be helpful.

Preface

      
Being
denied the affections of a loved one can bring about the strongest human
emotions. The young woman in this story saw nothing wrong with taking and using
all of the material things that her wealthy boyfriend offered, but constantly
resisted any intimacy, which, of course, he sought. I heard parts of this story
several years ago from German law enforcement associates and then, quite
accidentally, got the rest of the story while dining with an old friend in a
Prague restaurant not long ago.

      
Lucy
von Holt is a fictitious character, but the story is not far from what actually
happened. Anyone who doubts that these things do take place is either very
naive or blissfully ignorant of how things work in today’s BDSM world.

Jurgen
von
Stuka

Prague,
Czech Republic, July 2011

Searches

      
Excerpt
translation from
Frankfurter
Allegemeine
, a
major German daily newspaper:

VON HOLT DAUGHTER

SEARCH ABANDONED
 

         
Frankfurt, 3July
-- Authorities indicated today
that they have called off the extended search for missing socialite / heiress,
Lucy von Holt, who disappeared last month while traveling from Munich to
Amsterdam.
             

         
Frankfurt police say that the young
celebrity heiress and part time fashion model vanished without any clues when
she was supposed to have boarded a train in Rosenheim and changed trains in
Munich.
    

         
“All efforts to locate the missing
girl have been exhausted,” said Bavarian state police Director, Helmut
Kimmell
at a short press meeting yesterday in Munich.

         
“We have no leads and no information
about her at this time,”
Kimmell
said. “The case will
remain open, but until we have something concrete to go on, we have called off
the search.”

         
Attorney Markus
v.j
.
Lubach
, representing the girl’s father, Ernst von
Holt, told the press today that although there were some indications of foul
play, law enforcement officials throughout Europe have found no evidence that a
crime was committed, since the woman was twenty years old and no longer
considered a minor. The von Holt family has continued to refuse interviews or
make any public comments about the case.

      
Lucy
von Holt’s parents, when they finally discovered that their number one daughter
had somehow managed to disappear and thus avoid their control of her somewhat
less than perfect young life, launched a major search and recovery operation
throughout Europe, sparing no expense. In the end, after several months, their
efforts resulted in next to nothing. Their erstwhile and footloose daughter had
simply disappeared when she boarded the regional train from Rosenheim, Germany
to Munich. Although they did not rule out foul play, they could not have
possibly imagined that Lucy had been aggressively and forcibly abducted from
the train under orders from her frustrated and sexually deprived Dutch
boyfriend.

      
They
could also not have begun to imagine that Lucy was transported from The
Continent to the United States, first to a distribution facility in New York
state and then to the prestigious Vermont Riding School. There she expanded her
already significant knowledge of the Kink World and became the subject of somewhat
unpleasant and esoteric instruction and training in the equestrian arts, with
the typically measurable discomfort and emotional distress at being forced to
learn new things. Systematically tormented and abused as a part of her
curriculum, she was subjected to a wide variety of S&M activities and used
for the pleasure of the men and women on the faculty. For a girl who some
thought had effectively defended her virginity until she was nearly twenty,
this sudden reversal of her sexual fortunes was both mentally and physically
challenging.

      
What
no one knew was that much earlier in her life, before the young Dutchman
entered the picture, Lucy, thanks to her sister, gained considerable insight
into this same world. Her grieving parents never imagined the trials she
experienced at the Vermont Riding School and they certainly didn’t even
consider that after that long and painful education in things equine, she would
be once again transported across the Atlantic to attend a special finishing
school for young women of the pony persuasion. The trip was made under some
duress, as she traveled in something less than first class fashion, consigned
to a trans-Atlantic airfreight company that specialized in transporting
valuable four legged animals. Her traveling companions were zoo animals,
high-end personal pets of royalty and a family of orangutans. Strapped and
hooded inside the freight crate, Lucy silently wondered what would become of
her. Off-loaded at a less than modern airfreight terminal in Sofia, Bulgaria,
she then got a private ride in a delivery truck to her new home.

Valania

      
The
Valania
School for Young Women was nearly the
antithesis of the Vermont Riding School where Lucy learned a few things about
bondage, sex, submission and the art of being a
ponygirl
.
Where the Vermont Institution was well known for its riding instruction and
combined training of horse and rider,
Valania
totally
focused on training and adapting the pony. The school’s charter contained
nothing that even recognized the rider or riding skills. Therefore, Lucy’s
transition from riding school to a pony school was more or less the perfect
compliment, or so at least that’s what some people thought.

      
The
Cloister at
Valania
had been operating for centuries
as a retreat for an obscure, closely sequestered order of sisters devoted not
only to modest restraint, chastity and silence, but also to a diet of unusual
vegetables and fruits. The sole source of income for the order, known as The
Valanian
Sisters of Restraint, (VSR), was supposedly from
the sale of a potent liquor made from the crops the nuns grew on the adjacent
hillside and processed in an ancient distillery inside the triple-walled keep.

      
Over
the centuries, priests, bishops, cardinals and more than one Pope, supposedly
concerned about the alcoholic preoccupations of the order, conducted secret
reviews of the
Valanians
after hearing hushed
complaints from several influential quarters. The complaints always seemed to
turn out to be unsubstantiated and the church’s blessed resources devoted to
such esoteric matters moved on to other topics.

      
Not
surprisingly, no records ever mention that a significant portion of the
church’s clergy still seemed to frequent the cloister, partaking of the sacred
liquor and of other more earthly distractions. Oddly enough, no one complained
about the non-sectarian sporting events held inside the cloister’s ancient
fortress and vast, walled compounds. It was said, (only in hushed whispers), in
the nearest village that naked women had been seen pulling carts and running
foot races while the members of the order and visitors looked on; in silence,
of course.

      
It
was also rumored that dreadful punishments were frequently meted out to the
nuns and their subjects. The details were for some reason always sketchy, but
more than once, a village maiden suddenly disappeared from the fields or from
her home and later was found to have been “acquired” by the order in the
cloister. The usual answer as to why these unsuspecting young women suddenly
and at times unwillingly found themselves locked away in cells and cages in the
old castle was that they were suspected of harboring unhealthy thoughts. The
beauty of this system was that even if the young women harbored no unclean
thoughts before they were taken, their experiences in the cloistered enclave
soon changed that. They quickly gained firsthand knowledge and experience in
all manner of human perversions. They also learned that to gain acceptance into
the holy order, they had to learn and accept concepts that were initially
foreign to them. The nuns were helpful in this regard and usually convinced
even the most reluctant women that if they suffered enough, they would find not
only salvation, but also acceptance among their peers and their betters. What
was needed was education and training and the nuns excelled at both.

      
While
hanging nearly nude in heavy chains, suspended by their thin wrists, usually
with leather and iron devices locked to their heads and sex, the novice women
absorbed a broad range of knowledge about things which most of them had never
even dreamed about. Those who were overweight soon discovered that the diets
they suddenly experienced drastically reduced their perhaps too well rounded
figure to a far more attractive and seductive level. Those who were too thin
were slowly rounded out to present a more appealing figure as well. The
cloister’s vegetarian diet and hard work, coupled with daily and nightly
sessions in the dark and frightening “Question Rooms” of the ancient fortress
were the church’s solution to such heresy. There was nothing really new or
unusual about any of this. For centuries, the church encouraged and supported
what some might consider to be radical practices as it solidified the faith and
understanding of its millions of followers. The Inquisition and similar
fact-finding procedures carried out at local levels were nothing more than
bumps in the highway for true believers and similar undertakings were still
condoned and accepted.

      
Few
citizens or officials challenged this divine work. Those who did so often met
with unfortunate changes in their lives. Some simply disappeared. Others, if
they were young and attractive females, were absorbed either into the order or,
after a short visit and intensive “cleansing” interrogations and interviews
with the Mother Superior, returned home somewhat dazed, assuring everyone that
all was well and that God was watching over the order and its deeds. History
indicated that some who disappeared were later discovered in distant cities as
missionaries or prostitutes or wandering, deranged creatures bearing terrible
scars on their bodies and a total loss of all mental faculties. Given this
reputation, the order was usually left to its holy work and few outsiders
interfered.

      
Mother
Superior
Bolia
Sadisi
, the
VSR’s top official and head of the convent, worked feverishly, year after year,
to keep the school up to what she believed to be the highest standards of
female education; seeking young women, who were often from troubled homes, to
join the student body and eventually merge into the order. The church
considered Mother
Bolia
a bit of an eccentric, but no
one challenged her dedication and skill at reforming the bodies and minds of
the students. Her methods were somewhat dated, at times cruel, crude and
anachronistic, but given the overall direction of the order and its refusal to
adopt modern technology in any of its activities, church authorities tended to
look the other way.

      
Nevertheless,
at times the local villagers, who swore they heard horrible screams emanating
from behind the high walls, picked up pitchforks, brooms and shovels and
marched by torchlight to the main gate, demanding to see the Mother Superior.
Although this sort of event might have seemed to strangers as a stereotypical
scene from some old horror film, it was real enough to the villagers who lived
under shadow of the cloister. They wanted answers and
Bolia
was the one in charge. Given her talents and former occupation, she was always
successful in placating them. Complainants who became too vocal were either
paid off or suddenly vanished, leaving notes indicating their spontaneous
desire for immediate missionary work in some distant, primitive country. One
local politician, asked about the reputedly horrid goings-on at the cloister,
replied in typically Bulgarian fashion that he didn’t see any reason for
concern and that the nunnery was essential to the economy and one of the
historic treasures of the region.

      
“It’s
like the distillery your grandfather runs up in the mountains,” he said to the
local tavern owner whose attractive daughter had quietly vanished one night,
leaving behind a scribbled note that said that she was answering God’s call.
“All that goes on there may not be legal, but who in their right mind would put
a group of dedicated nuns out of business?”

      
When
Lucy von Holt arrived at the cloister, she was escorted to a small room where
she was told to sign several documents, none of which she would understand or
read, but which, the sisters assured her, were essential to her forthcoming
extended education. Bewildered, Lucy signed page after page, noting words and
phrases that implied, and in some cases, clearly indicated that she agreed to
the training and supervision that was to come and that she made no claims of virginity,
purity or acceptance of any other gods. Then, the sisters provided her with a
cold shower in one of the stone washing cubicles and put her into the uniform
of the students, who the nuns usually referred to as inmates. Once she was
fitted with the once again all too familiar collar, bridle, bit/gag and full
body harness, they silently placed Lucy in a holding stall in one of the
underground dormitories situated below the old fortress that was the order’s
sequestered home. The harness was a cleverly designed combination physical and
psychological controller. It was carefully fitted to the figure of the wearer
and seldom removed. The waist belt, which was really a short and heavily boned
leather corset, was the basic anchor for the rest of the harness. Two
additional, thinner belts encircled the torso above and below the breasts and
connected to shoulder straps linked to the collar. Two thick leather bands fit
at the top of each thigh. This was the core of the system to which additional
elements were added or removed for specific functions. The most used and common
accessory was the onerous crotch strap that began at the waist just below the
navel and passed through the sex, up the anal divide and locked securely to the
waist at the base of the spine. All of the straps were adjustable and well
padded to permit suspension and other restraints. Lucy’s harness wasn’t new,
but it fit her as if it was custom tailored for her. After nearly twenty-four
hours of travel, she collapsed on the stone floor of the stall and slept for
nearly a day. No one bothered her, but every hour or so, the patrolling duty
sister looked in through the barred window of the stall door. She did this just
to make sure that the new inmate was not getting into any mischief or trying to
remove the tail plug that was well up her ass or the equally onerous black
metal
dildoe
filling her cunt, both held there by the
locked body harness. They strapped Lucy’s arms behind her, wrist to elbow and
mated to the harness. Her ankles were bound with leather hobbles. Another,
larger set of these cuffs held her legs above the knee. Exhausted from the
trip, Lucy seemed to disregard these restraints and simply wanted to rest.

      
Sister
Angel
Fabrizzi
, herself a relatively new member of
the cloister, seemed to immediately identify with Lucy. When it was her shift
to patrol the ramshackle stables, she spent more time observing and training
Lucy than the other duty sisters did. The first night of Lucy’s stay, Sister
Angel, feeling that the new guest wasn’t getting the most from her restrictive,
but not especially uncomfortable bondage, unlocked the stall door with her
massive set of duty keys and entered the cramped enclosure with its
straw-covered floor. Using equipment hanging on the wall, she added a full hog
tie to Lucy’s bound configuration.

      
“This
will help you learn faster,” Sister Angel said as she shortened up on the
chains.

      
Sister
Angel, formerly inclined towards the Goth lifestyle and at one time somewhat
radically oriented in her former life, specialized in female bondage. She knew
how to wring pain from any woman’s body and was most patient about doing it.
Had she lived in an earlier time, there is little doubt that Angel would have
been happy and successful as a witch finder or prosecutor during The Inquisition.
Adroit at the use of rope, chain and leather straps, she took considerable
effort to make sure that her charges were always tightly and uncomfortably
bound and kept dangling on the edge of endless, screaming contortions, seeking
any release they could obtain from the Sister’s ministrations. When her charges
seemed both literally and figuratively at the end of their rope; when they were
unable to tolerate another notch in the rack’s winches, or another stroke of
the cane, or another centiliter of fluid being pumped into their stomach or
rectum, she obliged them by offering at least two options: they could go
further up the chain of pain and perhaps fail to survive…or they could channel
their pain and suffering towards God. They usually accepted the latter
alternative, when offered, at once, but Angel’s victims always failed to
realize that this meant finding God through intense and prolonged sexual
stimulation ending in mind-rending orgasms. While most survived this ultimatum,
some did not. The survivors, Angel often pointed out when giving silent
lectures on the subject of inmate training and interrogation, were often
addicted to the divine experience and thus very useful to the order. What the
outside world would have diagnosed as severe nymphomania was, in the order’s
view, a high devotion to serving God….and anyone else who happened to visit the
cages and cells where these creatures lived.

      
Seeking
to carry Lucy along the road to adaptation, compliance and redemption, on this
particular night, Sister Angel placed a wide leather strap through Lucy’s ankle
hobbles and then ran the end through a steel D ring mounted on the back of her
heavy leather collar. Pulling the strap tight, she forced the girl’s head back
nearly to the point where it touched her backward stretched feet. The position
created a choking pressure on the girl’s collar, so Sister Angel remedied that
with another strap attached to a ring on the front of Lucy’s collar. Pulling
that strap equally tight, she ran it down between the girl’s jutting breasts,
through her already strapped crotch and attached it to her thigh hobbles. Lucy,
exhausted and drowsy, did not resist this modification of her restraints until
she realized the impossibility of it. If she stretched her head back to relieve
the pressure on her throat, she pulled the crotch strap more against the double
impalements in her ass and pussy. If she tried to ease that strain, she forced
her ankles back even further and put greater stress on her bow-like, backward
bent body. Sister Angel watched Lucy’s eyes as she tightened the straps even
further, one notch at a time. She listened intently to the girl’s whimpering
and gurgling protest as she tried to mumble through the mouth-filling bit and
gag.