chapter 3

"Now to my favorite part, Daisy's saddle is called a Sybian, it's a large, powerful vibrator that rests between her legs." He pauses, thoughtfully, then smiles. "Strange, the technology that we salvage from the ruins, isn't it?" The vibrator throbs to life briefly every time Daisy chews, rewarding her hungry pussy with a little stimulation. It keeps her arousal levels high, but not high enough to allow her to cum. At this stage I want to keep her horny and motivated. If she's produced enough milk at the end of the day I'll reward her with some orgasms."

You're speechless with horror at the sight in front of you, your stomach knotted with fear. "No!" You manage, shaking your head. "No! Please! Don't do that to me!" Your body - your virginity and your innocence - has been your most prized possession since you came of age. Preserved dutifully for your future husband. That you would suffer this way is too much to bear.

"Don't worry, Piggy, I'm not going to do that to you." Your hopes rise for a moment, only to be dashed by the man's response. "We have enough breeders and milk sows. Now, that doesn't mean the men won't want to enjoy you while you're here, just that we will be focussing on fattening you up for Harvest. Now, if you don't mind, let's get you comfortable."

You thrash and protest wordlessly as the man smiles slightly, shaking his head in amused resignation. Pulling a chain from somewhere above you, he links the manacle on your right wrist to it, unclipping it from the frame as he does so. Spotting your chance to escape, you lunge with your right arm, trying to land a blow on the man's face, but his strong hand catches your wrist, stopping your swing before it can land.

He chuckles, holding your right wrist in an iron grip as he unfastens your left manacle and attaches it to the chain as well. Letting go, he steps back, and you hear the rattling sound of winching as the chain tightens. Your wrists are pulled gradually upwards by the chain, lifting your naked body from the frame. When the chain stops you are kneeling up straight, your arms held upright above your head, your thighs still secured to the frame. Somehow it is the fact that your breasts are exposed that causes you to flush with embarrassment. The thought enters your mind that this is the first time a man has ever seen you naked in your womanhood. As if reading your mind your captor cups one of your small orbs in his hand, making you yelp with pain as he pinches your small nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Not much meat on you Piggy." He laughs. "Don't worry - we'll fix that!"

Angered and humiliated by your helplessness, you spit at him, the futile gesture your only avenue of defiance. He smiles, almost fondly, and to your dismay he drags a saddle identical to Daisy's from behind you, grunting with effort as he places the heavy object beside you. You're taken aback to notice that it has a phallus protruding from the seat. A virtuous girl, you are no judge of such things, but it looks much too large for the purpose you fear it must be intended.

"Daisy was every bit as determined to resist as you are Piggy. She didn't have a lot of self control though - she broke pretty quickly. No matter what a girl's conscious brain wants, a high enough level of sexual stimulation will activate the pleasure and arousal centers of her brain. Now Piggy, I'm going to release you from the frame, and secure you in the saddle. If you're compliant, I'll let you settle on the seat at your own rate. That will be easier on you. If not, I'll have to force you. Do you understand?"

Shaking now with terror at your imminent violation, you nod meekly, unable to make a sound as the man unfastens your thighs, lifting you gently by the wrists and helping you to stand. You knees are weak as he continues to talk, guiding you by your slender waist until you are straddling the saddle. "This is it." You think, dazed with panic as you realize that your hopes of escape are vanishing.

The man's voice brings you back into the moment. "Now, Piggy, in your own time, you're going to kneel down into the saddle, taking the cock inside you. Its not so bad. You'll notice the ridges on it, and the raised ridged plate in front of it, you're going to appreciate those later." Baffled by that comment, you listen helplessly, your heart fluttering with trepidation.

You feel the man's rough hands heavy on your naked shoulders, and your legs buckle weakly, your arms raised by the chain as you kneel down. You anxiously straddle the device, which spreads your legs wide. Your chest is tight with panic, your breasts exposed and your arms pulled high above you. You sob with degradation and shame as you feel the slick cold rod come to rest insistently against your nether, wondering incongruously what your wedding night would have been like. The man, kneeling now in front of you, adjusts your hips slightly with his strong hands, then uses his finger to tenderly separate the petals of your flower, placing the tip of the device at the entrance to your maidenhead. Your eyes meet his, desperately seeking comfort or reassurance, and he nods kindly, pressing gently again on your shoulders.

You know what must happen, but you don't understand how you can accommodate the device's girth in your slender cleft. You whimper with the pain of the increasing pressure against your womanly parts, feeling the smooth rounded tip insist against your tight opening. You sob with pain and regret as you anticipate your deflowering on the unyielding pole.

You pause, the first half inch pushing inside you and stretching you to what feels like breaking point, afraid that you will be split in two. Still gazing into your abusers eyes helplessly, you see him nod his encouragement, and feel his pressure on your shoulders. You breathe deeply, and bear down, feeling first one, then each of the ridges on the phallus as it penetrates you. Finally it is done, and you rest, panting, your body hanging limply from your wrists as the sharp pain of your desecration giving way to a dull ache, and new sensations. Your fevered brain recalls your friend Hannah's comment that on her wedding night her husband's manhood 'filled her up'. Your mind hysterically observes that you don't so much feel 'filled' as 'stretched', as if a new space within you was being created, not an existing one filled.

"Well done Piggy." The man says, stroking your shoulder. "The first orgasm was a shock for Daisy." He says, making small adjustments to your position, then tightening straps on the sides of the saddle, tightly cinching first your thighs, and then your ankles to prevent you from standing. "I know she felt conflicted - guilty for allowing herself to experience pleasure at the hands of her captor. The brain is a collection of neural pathways and a person is the unique combination of connections in that brain. The thing is, Piggy, that the brain learns. It learns to seek pleasure and avoid pain. After the tenth orgasm Daisy was drunk with pleasure, her conscious mind was still angry and afraid, but her animal mind was alive with need and arousal, her reptile brain hungry for pleasure and reward. I lost track after that, as I'm sure she did. She must have orgasmed several hundred times before I turned in for the night, and when I woke in the morning she was still climaxing."

You half-heartedly test the bonds, and immediately stop, realizing that while you have some range of motion still, the cost of movement is a strange and nauseating sensation of the stationary shaft impaled within you. "Sometime during the night Piggy, Daisy's neural pathways burned out. Her brain evolved, adapted to the situation. There is only so much that anyone can take, and it shut down the nagging conscious part that was telling her she did not want it. It put her ancient, animal brain stem in charge. The part of her that craved pleasure, wanted a full *** and a full belly, thirsted for a brain flooded with endorphins, a nervous system overwhelmed by ecstasy."

His fingers stroke your belly playfully, making you flinch reflexively. "I'm sure you're a lot tougher though." He chuckles. "I'm certain your resistance will last longer. How long do you think though? A day? Two days? A week? Maybe you will hold out for a month? How long before your mind gives in to your animal brain and accepts a life of docile pleasure?" Placing his hands on your hips once more, you feel him press your pelvis down, your splayed pussy pushed downward onto the ribbed ridge of the machine. "Are you ready to begin Piggy?" He asks.