Sticking the Pig

Prompt Day #224: The title of your piece is: “Sticking the Pig”

WARNING: This story is sexually disturbing/explicit/cringe-worthy. If you choose to read it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

 

Sticking the Pig

 

The Man bought her from her father. She was sad to leave the tribe but The Man gave them many things and dug a well, so she went without a fight. It was the best thing for them, although she should not have been given to a man yet. Her sister was older than she; she hadn’t even had her first bleed. But here she was wearing these strange clothes and driving away in a big metal beast sitting next to The Man.

“Say Phillip.” He would say and nod for her to repeat.

“Say Phil up.” She said.

“Phillip”

“Phillip” she repeated. He nodded, smiled, and patted her knee.

He was a big man, much bigger than her father or any of the men in her tribe. His belly was like the tapir’s. She thought he was older than her father also, his hair was dirty white and he was always sweaty. She didn’t want to be his wife, but where could she go? She was trapped in this hut with so many strange noises and words she did not understand.

So far, he had not put himself inside her, at least not inside where she will bleed, only in her mouth. Every night before they sleep, he grabbed her chin and pulled her to it. Sometimes she couldn’t breathe when he did that and she did not like the taste either. When it was done, he gave her a tissue to spit into. He would go to sleep then, and she would sneak out to the indoor well and bring the water. She would wash her mouth until every trace of the bad taste was gone. And lastly, just before bed, she would check her pants for blood. For a sign that now she was a woman and the last locked door to her body was open to him.

One day, about two weeks after she’d come to live with The Man, a woman came to the house (it was not a hut, it was a house he had explained). She had a bag and wore a long coat. Her lips were very red, like fresh blood. The Man and The Woman told her to come with them.

“You have to watch, do you understand? Watch her and watch me.” The Man said. “When you bleed, Mistress Bianca will not come back anymore. You will have to learn to do what she does.” He held her small head in his hand so that she could “see and understand” when he spoke.

Mistress Bianca had the most terrible thing in her bag. A black collar with silver spikes that she put around The Man’s neck and a small black stick that she used to beat him like a dog. The Man was pretending to be an animal. He crawled around on his hands and knees; his fat doughy belly sagging towards the carpet. His penis was big like when she had to put it in her mouth and that frightened her. She didn’t want The Woman to see her do that and she didn’t want The Woman to hit her either. The Woman put on a penis of her own. It was bigger than The Man’s and it was black like the stick she beat him with. Then, she watched in horror as Mistress Bianca mounted The Man like an animal. She pulled on the long collar attached to his neck and he grunted like a pig.

She watched his body jiggle, sweat dripping onto the floor as The Woman pushed and pushed at him. When she thought she would scream if she had to watch this any longer imagining that one day she, herself, would have to do such horrible things, The Man turned around and grabbed The Woman and made her sit on his penis. Now she was bouncing on it and he continued to make animal sounds. The Woman slapped his face until it was purple. His dirty hair was wet and stuck to his head.

She began to cry and she ran up the stairs and hid under the covers of the bed. Maybe, she told herself, he would fall asleep with Mistress Bianca and leave her alone tonight. She wanted to go back to the Rain Forest, where things made sense, where the mean were lean and dark and beautiful. Where they never hurt her. She cried herself to sleep.

She did not hear The Man come into the room, but awoke to him tugging off her underwear. She rolled over onto her belly and pushed her face into the pillow. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t touch him. Not tonight, may not ever again, she’d rather die. She felt his hand on her head, holding it down. She panicked, was he going to kill her? Then she felt him against her buttocks and she screamed. He was going to do what The Woman had done with her fake penis. She tried to wriggle away, but his hand was too strong and her screams of protest were muffled in the pillow. She couldn’t breathe, the pain was exquisite and her muscles hurt from stiffness. She could only try to relax until it was over. She focused on the sounds of his harsh grunts and the feel of his breath on her back. Then it was done and he collapsed beside her on the bed, panting. She curled up into a ball and waited for sleep to take away her pain.

She awoke the next morning to find blood smeared on the sheets. She ran to the bathroom and washed herself. She couldn’t tell if it was her woman’s blood or simply traces from the torture last night. But once she was clean, there was no doubt. Her blood had finally come. He would know. The Man, her husband, would find out and then it would be time. She couldn’t imagine a pain worse than last night but she thought there was a possibility. Now what was ahead for her? What would the future hold?

She returned to her room, their room, to find him stripping the bed of its sheets. She looked at him and then quickly dropped her eyes. She couldn’t look him in the eye. Not now. He smiled at her.

“It’s ok. This is a good thing. We can finally be husband and wife.” He winked at her. “We only have about a week to get you ready to take over from Mistress Bianca. I’ll call her and give her the news.” The Man, Phillip, her husband, came around the bed and hugged her. He tilted her head up to him and kissed her. She tasted smoke and coffee on his breath as his tongue wallowed around in her little mouth. She wished he would give her a tissue to spit into again but he didn’t.

For the next week, Mistress Bianca came every evening and made her hold the stick, showed her how to hit with it. She measured her waist to fit the fake penis. She helped her place the silver studded collar leash around The Man’s fat neck and demonstrated how to pull slowly and not too tight but just enough so his breathing sounded wheezy. She hated every second of it.

On the day the bleeding was over, The Woman said good bye and wished her luck. The black bag with all the scary things that she hoped to never have to touch was left behind. She watched as The Woman’s car pulled out into the street. She tried to fight back her tears. The Man came up behind her and kissed her neck.

“I can’t wait any longer. We’re going to do things in a different order tonight. I’ve waited far too long to get inside you properly. Come with me.” He took her hand “Bring the bag with you” He winked at her. She took the bag reluctantly although she hoped that perhaps he’d change his mind about it.

He took her to the bedroom. That was good, much better than the basement. She laid the bag beside her on the bed. He pulled her pants off and spit on his hand. She took a deep breath and waited. He didn’t go easy, instead, he buried himself inside her with one grunty push. She let out a cry of pain, her hand clenched onto the bag. He began to move and she felt as if he was splitting her in two. It was excruciating. She couldn’t wait any longer. She lifted her bottom, letting him slide completely inside her and then she flexed her special muscles just as her mother taught her.

He screamed as the rows of teeth bit into the flesh of his manhood. He tried to pull himself free but they tilted inward so each movement in the opposite direction skinned him. He smacked at her.

“Stop! Stop doing that!” He cried, his voice wavering in agony. He tried not to move but she was pumping her hips up and down, the circular rows of teeth grated across his skin. There was blood running out now, but it wasn’t hers. She flexed again and the teeth sank deeper. She reached into the bag and grabbed the spikey leash. She held it up against his neck and wrapped it around his neck. He couldn’t stop her. He needed both hands to hold the bulk of his weight up. He was barely aware of what she was doing with her hands anyways as her secret teeth chewed at his still hard cock. She hoped he wouldn’t bleed out before she managed to work the teeth through it entirely. She wanted to see the look on his face when he felt the amputation.

The process was almost complete. She pulled on the leash, fast and tight, the opposite of what The Woman had shown her. The spikes pierced the skin of his throat and then his jugular. Blood rained down onto her, his eyes bulged out of his face as the color went from purple to red to pink to white. He collapsed on top of her but the blood made it easy to slip out from under him. She hopped off the bed and squatted. Once more she worked her muscles until her souvenir fell cool and pale into her hand. She would dry it over the fire and make a necklace out of it just like the one her mother wore. And then she would begin her long journey home. She had proven herself a woman and would now be granted access back into the tribe.

Advertisements