We’re going to let London River out. We’re not going to let her GO, but some fresh air and hard work in the yard never hurt anyone. Live shows are about doing something unexpected, and when we started broadcasting this one, even we weren’t thinking about taking it outdoors. But then we thought to ourselves, it’s such a nice day out, and wouldn’t it be nice if someone walking by the Farm got a free show out of it? The next thing we know London is on her knees, chained and shackled, digging through the dirt with her bare hands.
That’s what pigs do. They wallow in the mud. They’re filthy creatures. London is a pig. We bury her up to her tits in the muck and mire, then start giving her the business end of the whip some more. The tears make streaks in the caked on grime on her face. She’s doing everything she can to hold back the sobs and the screams. And the humiliation makes it all so much harder to handle. There she is, dirty, cold, suffering, and all of our members want to hear her call herself a dirty pig. And she knows she has to. She knows it’s true. She’s nothing now. Just a play thing for us.