Chapter 35: Bound By Law: Part 5 – pig Farm

The plan Sergeant Mwanga, Officer Emeka, and the man they referred to as the “fat man” had devised for Sylvia was beyond anything legally imaginable, even by the harsh standards of Aprico Island. In a place where public punishments like genital whipping and brutal insertions were part of the legal system, this new method of interrogation crossed boundaries even by those norms. It was fat man’s idea, brought up during their dinner the previous night. Mwanga and Emeka had been hesitant at first—both knew that what they were being asked to do was illegal, even by the island’s notorious standards. But when the fat man sweetened the deal with a bribe of additional ten piglets, both men quickly pushed aside their doubts.

Meanwhile, Sylvia stood there, still naked, her body trembling as the warm African sun began to dry her wet skin and hair. Her pale complexion, so starkly different from the local residents, seemed to shimmer under the harsh sunlight, her alabaster skin gradually warming and flushing under its intensity. She slouched, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in a desperate attempt to cover her exposed body, her hands trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure.

The officers’ eyes lingered on her, but they kept their expressions cold and neutral, not giving away the twisted plans that lay beneath. The fat man, on the other hand, stood to the side with a wide grin, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his massive frame, barely able to contain his excitement.

They gestured toward the police car, parked a few meters away. “Come, follow us,” Mwanga instructed in a thick accent, his tone lacking any empathy. They weren’t about to carry out their plans in this open, public space where anyone could see and report them to the central authorities. This was something that needed to be done in private, away from prying eyes. Sylvia hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of her vulnerability pressing down on her chest as she stood in the open air, naked, humiliated, and completely at their mercy.

Her feet moved, albeit reluctantly, and she followed the officers, her arms still crossed protectively over her chest and midsection. The fat man waddled behind them, barely able to contain his anticipation, his eyes gleaming with dark delight as they approached the pickup truck.

Sylvia was told to get back on the pickup truck, the same one that had brought her here, carrying her into a nightmare she never thought possible. Her heart pounded with dread as she complied, her body trembling in fear. The weight of shame and the realization of what awaited her nearly paralyzed her, but fear drove her actions.

They positioned Sylvia facing forward this time, her body contorted into a full, effortless split, her legs stretched wide apart along the length of the truck bed. What they didn’t know was that Sylvia was a yoga expert, her extreme flexibility allowing her body to bend and stretch with ease, even in such a humiliating position. She sank gracefully onto the narrow bench, her hips lowering effortlessly as her legs extended to their full capacity, making it look almost natural despite the degradation she felt inside.

Her feet were bound tightly to the edges of the truck, securing her wide-open position, yet there was no visible strain in her muscles. The natural suppleness of her body allowed her to adapt, even though her heart pounded with dread. Her arms were pulled forward to grasp the metal bar, adding a curve to her back that accentuated her deep, graceful split.

As if the torment of being bound and exposed in such a dehumanizing way wasn’t enough, they took a thick rubber dildo, oiled it, then, forced it into her anus, securing it with a stick between her legs. Each movement, each vibration from the truck’s uneven path, would cause the dildo to push deeper, or pull out slightly, only to slam back in with the next bounce. It was a cruel rhythm, designed to mock her, to turn her own body into a source of ongoing humiliation. Every bump in the road would force her to violate herself, or be violated by the relentless object. There was no escape from it—each jolt of the truck would remind her of the invasion, the total loss of control.

As the truck idled, preparing to take off again, a new wave of shame washed over her. She could feel the eyes of the townspeople on her, watching from the roadside. Some looked on with curiosity, others with indifference, perhaps wondering where they were taking the white woman in such a state. Sylvia’s face burned with humiliation, her nakedness and degradation on full display for all to see. The weight of their gazes, coupled with the dreadful anticipation of the ride ahead, made her want to disappear, but she was helpless, bound to the truck and to the fate they had chosen for her.

Shame, dread, and fear coursed through her veins as the truck finally began to move, each bump in the road sending waves of painful awareness through her body as the dildo moved in rhythm with the vehicle’s motions. There was no escape from the constant humiliation, no reprieve from the relentless invasion. And the eyes of the onlookers followed her as the truck rumbled through the dusty streets, carrying her toward whatever horrors awaited her next.

Officer Emeka settled into the driver’s seat, the engine rumbling to life as Sergeant Mwanga and the fat man climbed onto the truck bed. The entire vehicle sank noticeably under the fat man’s immense weight, the springs creaking in protest as he heaved himself onto the back. Sylvia, already trembling with fear, felt the added pressure on the truck, but it was nothing compared to what came next.

The moment the car started moving, Sylvia’s entire body jolted. The thick rubber dildo lodged deep in her anus immediately came alive with the truck’s motion, each bump in the uneven road causing it to pump rhythmically inside her. The vibrations coursed through her body, intensifying with every rock and bounce the truck hit. It was as if the cruel device was synced perfectly with the vehicle’s movements, thrusting deeper with each jolt, pulling slightly out before slamming back in. Sylvia clenched her teeth, a small moan of discomfort escaping her lips.

“Ummmmm,” she groaned involuntarily, her body betraying her as the relentless rhythm took control.

Sergeant Mwanga, sitting directly behind her, glanced down at her trembling body and laughed, his voice heavy with a thick accent. “Don ya cum here now, ya hear? Gotta save dat for later, ya?” He smirked, his words dripping with mockery as he eyed her helpless form.

He leaned in closer, his tone shifting into something more casual, though the cruelty still lingered in his words. “Ya ever heard of native Guga pigs, called ‘pig’?” he asked, his question hanging in the air without any real need for an answer.

Sylvia had indeed heard of them—strange creatures native to the island, resembling pigs but with long, pointed snouts and tongues that could stretch out like an anteater’s. She wondered why Mwanga was suddenly bringing them up, her body tense as she braced for what he might say next.

Seeing her silence, Mwanga pressed on, his voice laced with teasing malice. “De Guga pig, it’s known for dat long tongue, but did ya know, it also got a long penis? Moves like a arm or tentacle.” He paused deliberately, letting the disturbing image settle in before adding, “And it loves to fuck ... all day long.” His eyes searched her face, waiting for the inevitable flash of fear and disgust that would come with his words.

The fat man chuckled in agreement from his place beside Mwanga, his deep belly shaking with laughter as the truck continued its rough journey. Sylvia’s face flushed with humiliation, the unwanted knowledge sinking in as the brutal pumping of the dildo in her anus continued with every bump. She could only sit there, her body spread wide and tied down, listening to their sickening banter, her mind filled with fear for what was to come.

“Tell her what ya told us, fat man,” Mwanga said, his voice filled with cruel amusement as he glanced at Sylvia.

The fat man grinned, adjusting himself on the truck bed as it creaked beneath his weight. “Ya see, most of ma pigs, they was born and raised on ma farm. But there’s this one ... this special one. Raised by a white woman, businessman’s wife, ya know? Don’t know what kinda care she gave him, but couple of years ago, they brought him here, almost fully grown.”

Sylvia’s stomach twisted as she listened, sensing the story was going somewhere vile. She kept her eyes low, trembling in her restraints, the shame of her nakedness mixing with a growing sense of dread.

“It grew up with just her mainly, no interaction with other pigs,” the fat man continued. “So when it reached four years old, ready for breeding, it started humpin’ that white lady. They tried bringin’ him to other pig farms, putting him with female pigs, but he ain’t care about ‘em. Not one bit. Nah, but the moment he sees that white woman...” He chuckled, a sick grin spreading across his face. “He went wild. One day, while she was takin’ a shower, it attacked her. She fell, and ya know pig got that long tentacle penis. She didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout it succeeding, but I think it did. Ya know what I mean?”

Sylvia’s heart pounded faster, a cold sweat breaking out across her body. The full horror of what they were discussing hit her like a blow to the stomach. She could barely breathe, her mind racing as the fat man continued.

“They didn’t want nothin’ to do with it after that. Gave it to us to raise. But even after two years on our farm, that crazy pig still ain’t interested in female pigs. No use to us except for meat now. But—” the fat man chuckled again, a grotesque sound that sent chills through Sylvia’s bones— “ya know what? I really wanna see if pig likes human woman, so I hired a prostitute and da pig didn’t respond at all, that prostitute shaking her ass right in front of its nose. Then, I showed it the pictua of nakid white chick and it went crazy, getting erection right there. So, I always wandered what happens when it sees a real white woman.”

The words made Sylvia’s blood run cold. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest as she realized what they were suggesting. Her breath caught in her throat, and the taste of bile rose up. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, but the fat man kept talking.

“So we thought, why not invite ya to our farm? Ya know, it’s already decided we gonna cook him, no use for us, pig that cannot make baby pigs, but ya know, it deserves its last wish” He grinned, his voice dripping with malice. “ Ya know, it’s already decided we gonna cook him tonight, for my boy’s birthday party, no use for us, pig that cannot make baby pigs, but ya know, it deserves its last wish, ya know? No man, pig or not, should die a virgin, ya know?”

The realization of their plan crashed down on Sylvia like a tidal wave, sending her into a spiral of panic. They weren’t just tormenting her; they were planning something far worse. The idea that they were going to feed her to this pig, a creature that had been conditioned to desire white women, was too horrifying to bear.

“No, please! No!” Sylvia’s voice broke as she began to sob, her eyes wide with terror. “Please! Stop! Turn the car around! I’ll do anything! Please! Just don’t—don’t take me there!”

She pulled desperately at her restraints, her body shaking as she begged. “Please ... I’m begging you ... don’t do this. Please don’t take me to that place...”

But her words fell on deaf ears. The truck rumbled forward, indifferent to her pleas, while the fat man and the officers laughed, their sick plan unfolding as Sylvia’s world crumbled around her. The terror of what was waiting at the farm consumed her, each bump of the road driving her deeper into despair as she was carried toward her fate.

As the truck bounced and lurched over the uneven, dusty road, Sylvia’s mind spiraled in chaos. The horror of what was waiting for her at the pig farm gnawed at her insides, each word of the fat man’s twisted story replaying in her head. But as terrified as she was, her body betrayed her in the most humiliating way imaginable. The thick dildo lodged in her anus, combined with the relentless jolts from the rough African dirt road, caused the toy to pump rhythmically inside her. Each bump sent it deeper, pushing against her with mechanical precision, and her body reacted instinctively—much to her shame.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation, but it was useless. Every jolt of the truck sent a wave of unwanted stimulation through her, the vibrations stirring her body against her will. Her breath hitched, and she could feel a familiar tightening sensation building deep within her, making her stomach twist in horror. Her body—damn her body—was responding to the dildo, responding to the rhythm that was being forced upon her.

“Mmmmm ... uuueee...” she moaned involuntarily, her voice trembling with a mixture of shame and fear.

Mwanga turned his head, staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “Ya, woman, common!” he barked, his eyes narrowing as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He exchanged a look with the fat man, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“Can ya believe dis?” Mwanga said, gesturing toward Sylvia. “She’s turned on hearin’ she gonna have sex with pigs!”

Sylvia’s mind screamed in protest, but no words could escape her lips. She wanted to shout, to explain, to tell them it wasn’t what they thought. That it wasn’t her! Her body, her cursed body, was the result of something beyond her control.

Mwanga leaned closer, sneering at her. “Hey woman, hang on now! Ya cumming at the thought of what’s waitin’ for ya at the farm? Can’t believe it! What an animal, huh?”

Sylvia wanted to scream, No! No! Not that! Please! She could feel the tension building inside her, an unwelcome response that she could do nothing to stop. Her mouth tried to form the words, to explain the truth, but all that came out were broken, desperate sounds.

“No ... no ... uuuu ... eeee ... noooo ... please ... uuuuuu ... eeeee...” Her voice quivered, barely above a whisper, each sound laced with shame and agony.

In her mind, she screamed louder, trying to explain the condition that had ruined her life. I have a hormonal disorder! she wanted to yell. There’s no medicine for it! My body reacts to the slightest stimulation—this is Hyper-Libido Disorder, look it up! It’s not me ... I’m decent ... I don’t want this, please! But all her mind’s desperate cries were trapped inside her, locked behind her trembling lips.

The truth was buried deep in her past, something she had once tried to explain long ago. When she was first diagnosed with Hyper-Libido Disorder, she had made the mistake of telling her school friends, ignoring her mother’s advice to keep it a secret. She had been desperate for understanding, to explain away the accident that had occurred on a crowded bus when a man groped her buttocks. The unexpected touch had sent her body into overdrive, and she had experienced an orgasm right there in public, her body betraying her, humiliating her in front of everyone, including her friends who watched her in shock.

She had thought that by telling her friends about the disorder, they would understand, that they would stop the rumors from spreading. But instead, they laughed. They teased her mercilessly, calling her names, making her feel like a freak. The boys at her school had heard the rumors, and it wasn’t long before they started groping her too—testing her, pushing her until the inevitable happened. And when she finally broke, when her body responded in the worst way possible, and eventually, it led to a brutal gang rape, by a dozen boys after school, that left her shattered.

Her parents had moved her to another town after the incident, hoping to protect her, to help her finish her high school in peace. But shortly after their move, just three months before her graduation, they were killed in a car crash, right in front of their home. Sylvia had seen it happen. She had watched in horror as the car veered off the road and slammed into a tree. And deep down, she blamed herself for their deaths. If she hadn’t caused the trouble back in their old town, maybe they would still be alive.

That guilt had buried itself so deep in her heart that she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about her disorder ever again. And now, in the back of this truck, with Mwanga and the fat man mocking her, her body betraying her once more, she felt that same paralyzing guilt all over again.

Her body continued to react, no matter how much she fought it, the relentless pumping of the dildo making it impossible for her to hide the truth. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the truck carried her closer to her fate, her mind screaming for mercy, her body betraying her at every turn.

Despite the horror and shame gripping her mind, her body continued to respond. Her quiet moans—”uuuuu ... eeeee ... uuuu ... ahhhh”— barely audible at first, but grew louder with each passing second. She couldn’t stop them, no matter how much she tried to stifle the sounds. The stimulation, the relentless pumping from the bumpy ride, was too much for her body to resist.

Her hips tried to move, small gyrations beginning as her body sought release, though her legs were bound so tightly in the full split that the motion was subdued. The natural rhythm of her hips, trying to push back or rotate in search of more stimulation, was barely perceptible, but it was there—evident in the slight shifting of her muscles against the restraints.

Mwanga, watching from behind, couldn’t believe his eyes. “Ya, woman, what da hell! Ya cummin’ already?” he said with a mocking laugh. He leaned toward the fat man, shaking his head in disbelief. “Can ya believe dis woman?”

The fat man chuckled darkly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Wait for my piggy, save your cummin’ for my piggy, bitch!”

Sylvia’s mind screamed in protest, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her moaning grew louder, her breathing shallow and quick as her hips made those small, desperate movements. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want them to see her like this. But her body, cursed with Hyper-Libido Disorder, couldn’t help but react. The dildo inside her, combined with the constant jolting of the truck, was pushing her closer to the edge.

Mwanga’s eyes flicked down to the dildo lodged in her anus, still pumping with the truck’s motion. “No point in makin’ her cum now,” he muttered to himself. “Better save dat for da pigs.” With a rough jerk, he reached down and pulled the dildo out, thinking that stopping the stimulation would prevent her from reaching orgasm.

But it was too late.

As soon as the dildo slid out, Sylvia’s body convulsed, her moans cutting off abruptly as she went into a seizure-like spasm. Her muscles contracted uncontrollably, her eyes fluttering as her body bucked and trembled. She shook violently, the orgasm wracking her body with a force she couldn’t control. Her hips, though restrained, spasmed, and her body arched against the ropes holding her in place.

Then came the climax. Sylvia’s body released, and she squirted—three, four times, her fluids spraying across the bed of the truck. The fat man, sitting too close, was drenched, his shirt soaked as he recoiled in surprise.

“Ahhh, dis woman!” he shouted, wiping his face with his sleeve. “She’s sprayin’ like a damn hose!”

Before anyone could react, Sylvia’s body, still caught in the throes of orgasm, released a powerful stream of urine. It shot out like a man peeing after holding it for too long, hitting the floor of the truck and splashing everywhere. The fat man, already drenched, groaned in disgust, while Mwanga, trying to avoid the spray, nearly slipped off the side of the truck.

“Goddamn!” Mwanga yelled, grabbing onto the side of the truck to steady himself. “What the hell, woman? Ya tryin’ ta drown us or somethin’?”

The fat man laughed, though it was a sick, mocking sound. “She’s like a fountain! Ain’t never seen no woman piss like that after cummin’.”

Sylvia’s shame overwhelmed her as her body finally relaxed, the aftershocks of the orgasm leaving her limp and helpless. She sat there, still tied in the humiliating split, her face flushed with humiliation as the men continued to laugh at her. Her body, still sensitive from the climax, trembled slightly.

Mwanga wiped his hand on his pants, shaking his head. “This one’s broken,” he muttered. “No control at all. Dis gonna be interestin’ when we get to da farm.”

Sylvia’s heart pounded in her chest as she sat there, drenched in sweat, tears mixing with the dirt on her face. The shame of what just happened—of her body betraying her so lewdly, of the men’s laughter—cut her deeper than anything. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into nothing, but there was nowhere to hide. She was fully exposed, vulnerable, with no way to stop the torment that was to come.

They finally reached the farm, but it wasn’t the small, rural setup Sylvia had imagined. Instead, it stretched out in front of her, a vast expanse with large pig enclosures and numerous pens. The stench of animals, mud, and hay hung thick in the air, overwhelming her senses. Several massive pig cages stood along the perimeter, housing both standard pigs and the notorious pigs of Guga Island. Sylvia’s stomach churned at the sight. There were at least five men scattered around, working on different tasks, their heads snapping up as the truck approached. As Mwanga began to untie Sylvia, she felt the weight of their stares burn into her skin.

Among those waiting was the fat man’s family—a large, heavyset Black woman who must have been his wife, and two equally rotund children, a son and a daughter. Sylvia’s shame deepened as they all turned to watch the spectacle unfold. She could feel their eyes on her, watching every movement as Mwanga yanked her down from the truck bed, his grip on her arm rough and unforgiving.

The fat woman’s voice boomed out. “Honey, who’s the naked white woman?”

Mwanga didn’t miss a beat, his mocking voice cutting through the air. “Oh, she’s a criminal. Guilty of lewd acts in town. They called her ‘ass spreader,’ ya know? She was spreadin’ her ass cheeks with a dildo in her asshole, right in the middle of the market food court when they got her.”

The son, a large, both tall and fat, boy with an almost childlike expression, stepped forward, his eyes wide with fascination as he looked at Sylvia. “Wow, I’ve never seen a white woman before ... and she’s pretty! Can I have her, father?”

The daughter, just as large, but with a snide smirk, chimed in. “No way! I’m gonna have her as my chambermaid. I saw it on TV. Rich old white bitches always had Black chambermaids. I need a white one to serve me.”

Their father, the fat man, chuckled, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, she belongs to the police,” he said, though his tone was casual, as if owning or trading women was nothing unusual here.

Meanwhile, Mwanga and Emeka dragged Sylvia forward. For the first time since her ordeal began, her fear finally overtook her paralysis. Panic surged through her body, and she began to physically resist. Her arms strained against their grip as she struggled to pull away, her legs stumbling as she tried to plant herself firmly on the ground. Tears streamed down her face, her pleas barely coherent between sobs.

“No, please! Please, stop! Don’t take me in there! Please, I’m begging you!” she cried, her voice breaking as she tried in vain to fight them off. But the strength of Mwanga and Emeka was overwhelming. Their grip on her arms was like iron, and no amount of struggling could break her free from their hold.

“Where’s that pig ya said likes white women only?” Mwanga barked, looking toward the fat man, who was grinning ear to ear at the sight of Sylvia’s futile resistance.

The fat man gestured toward a large barn off to the side of the farm. “Let’s go in that barn. We got a place for pig breedin’.”

Sylvia’s heart pounded as she saw where they were headed. The barn loomed ahead, dark and foreboding. Her body trembled violently as she was dragged closer, the terror almost making her legs give out beneath her. She thrashed harder, her fear turning into raw desperation, but it was useless. Mwanga and Emeka were too strong, her efforts nothing more than a feeble resistance against their overwhelming power.

“No! No, please! Don’t do this! Please, I’ll do anything! Please don’t take me in there!” she screamed, her voice shrill and frantic as she struggled with everything she had left. But it made no difference. They dragged her across the dirt, her feet scraping against the ground, no match for the strength of the men from Aprico Island.

The rest of the family followed closely, their eyes glued to the spectacle as if it were some kind of twisted entertainment. Sylvia’s cries were met with nothing but amusement from those watching, their faces showing no sympathy, no remorse. The fat woman smirked, the son looked eager, and the daughter laughed cruelly at Sylvia’s plight.

The barn door creaked open as they approached, revealing the dark interior where the breeding area for the pigs awaited. Sylvia’s heart raced, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought harder, her terror reaching its peak. But no matter how hard she resisted, they dragged her inside, the dark barn swallowing her whole.

Sylvia was dragged into the dark, musty barn, her feet scraping against the dirt floor as Mwanga and Emeka pulled her inside with ease. The overpowering stench of animals and damp wood filled her nose, and the dim light filtering through the old, cracked windows only added to her sense of dread. Her heart raced as her eyes scanned the interior, landing on a crude wooden contraption in the center of the barn. It looked like some kind of device designed for one purpose—restraint.

Despite her overwhelming terror, Sylvia resisted as best she could, thrashing against the men’s grip, desperate to break free. The fear of being raped by the pig, an animal, was more intense than anything she had ever felt. But her strength was no match for theirs. The two men dragged her to the device, where they roughly forced her onto her knees. Sylvia screamed, her voice hoarse from crying, her muscles shaking with fear. But it was no use.

They pushed her into the wooden device, her legs being pried apart by the structure as she knelt on the cold, hard floor. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she felt her thighs being forced wide, her bare flesh pressed against the rough wood. Her arms were held back, leaving her completely exposed and powerless. The device locked her into position, trapping her with no room to move, no chance to fight back. Her mind screamed with terror, her body frozen with fear as she struggled to comprehend what was about to happen.

“Now, woman, ya best reach back and spread dem cheeks,” the fat man ordered, standing nearby, his voice thick with amusement. He loomed over her, watching her struggle, clearly relishing her helplessness.

Sylvia’s whole body stiffened. Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind raced. He wanted her to spread her buttocks herself, to expose herself willingly for the violation that was coming. The idea alone made her stomach turn. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, refusing to obey.

The fat man’s smile faded, replaced by a scowl. Without warning, he grabbed a paddle he used for pig-herding and brought it down hard on her exposed backside with a loud crack. Sylvia gasped in pain, her body jerking forward in the device.

“Do it!” he barked, his voice thick with anger.

Sylvia sobbed, shaking her head again. “No, please ... no ... I can’t...” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

The wooden paddle came down again, harder this time, sending a wave of pain through her body. “I said, spread ‘em!” he growled, his thick fingers pressing into the flesh of her hip as he prepared to strike again.

Sylvia wailed, her body shaking as her willpower crumbled. The third slap hit her even harder, leaving a sharp sting across her bare skin. Her sobs grew louder, her body trembling uncontrollably as she realized there was no escaping this. No matter how much she resisted, she couldn’t stop what was coming.

On the fourth strike, her body finally froze, the pain and fear overwhelming her. She was shaking so hard she could barely move, her mind screaming at her to resist, to fight, but her body refusing to obey. The realization settled in—if she reached back and spread her cheeks, it would mean she was submitting, accepting her fate. And yet, not doing it would only bring more pain, more humiliation.

With her hands trembling, she hesitated, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Tears blurred her vision. Slowly, reluctantly, Sylvia reached behind her, her shaking hands hovering just above her backside. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her fingers finally touched her skin, and with a sob of defeat, she spread her buttocks, exposing herself as the fat man had demanded.