Slave World (18 page)

She wore glossy knee-high boots and form-fitting khaki pants. Her white, short-sleeve blouse was unbuttoned to mid chest, tucked in tight around her narrow waist. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it. The woman was extremely tall, over six feet, and her curvy figure set beneath a bedroom quaff of long, mousy brown hair, now dominated the room. In one hand she held a riding crop, and in the other a stun baton. She was drop-dead gorgeous, but her glaring smirk of contemptuous superiority made her look hideously vile in a way. She took an exaggerated breath, exhaling loudly with a feral smile.

“There’s nothing like the smell of wet slut, is there ponies?”

“No, Ma’am!” They replied in unison again, yet with considerably less enthusiasm as with Nathan.

She lifted the chin of a pony two down from me with her crop. “And there’s plenty of that to go around in here, isn’t that right, Penny?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Psycho bitch stopped in front of me, and I became the center of her arrogant leer. “Well what have we here?” She pushed Crystal and the pony to my right none too gently out of the way, making a slow cursory circle around me. “So this is the new slut that everyone’s been so talkative about lately?” I stared straight ahead at nothing, cringing when her fingertips trailed across my back. “You
are
a hot piece of ass; I can see why Burke’s been keeping you to himself.” She stopped in front of me again, and I did my best to look through her. “Do you know who I am, slave?”

“No, Ma’am.” My voice came out in a half-hearted squeak.

“I’m Miss Torri, the Assistant Overseer for all you spoiled little bitches, and every other fucking pony piece of shit in these stables.” I would say this woman definitely had a screw loose someplace, that is, if I were in any position to judge one of my betters. “And since Burke has finally decided to leave for the night, I think it’s about time you’re properly initiated into your new surroundings. Hygiene inspection!”

Her crop slapped the side of her boot and all the ponies jumped to obey, bending over in a jostle of momentary confusion, spreading their feet wide and inviting to Miss Torri. I quickly followed their example.

“Oh yeah, now that’s what I like to see,” Torri snorted in grim sarcasm. “There’s nothing like a clam-dive lineup, is there, Roger?”

“No, Ma’am,” the guard behind her replied evilly.

Torri began a leisurely stroll down the row of upturned asses, giving an unlucky few a swat with the palm of her hand that resonated through the deathly quiet. “And who shall my inspector be tonight, hmm?”

She spun in place, coming back in my direction. I didn’t know what a hygiene inspector’s job was, but based on my current position, it couldn’t be good. A pair of glossy black boots paused behind me, followed by another crack of her hand. She slapped my ass so hard I flinched, biting my lip to keep quiet. The boots continued their slow journey down the line.

“You!” Torri’s snarling outburst made most of us jump. She was pointing her crop at a bob-cut brunette with silver highlights. “Stephanie, fall out and take your place at the end of the line.”

“Yes, Miss Torri!”

I could barely see Stephanie hurriedly taking her place behind the first girl, going to her knees.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
With the aid of Torri’s hand, Stephanie’s face was shoved between the presented cheeks of the first pony.

“So tell me, what do you smell?” Torri asked haughtily, with the knowing ridicule of a sick game that had been played out on numerous occasions in the past.

“A dirty pony slut, Miss Torri,” she mumbled between creamy flesh.

“Gee, what a fucking surprise,” Torri snorted. “And the next one?”

Down the line Stephanie went as if seconds away from tears, prompted by Torri’s boot, as she slid along on her knees. The answer was always the same.

It was my turn next.
This is just so wrong, in so many ways.
Stephanie’s face was pushed between my cheeks, nose buried in my cunt. I held my breath, praying for the indignity to end.

“And what about our newest arrival?” The pressure between my cheeks eased.

“She’s a dirty pony slut too, Miss Torri,” Stephanie whispered.

“As I knew she was, but you better make sure with this one. Taste her.” I shivered when Stephanie’s slick tongue timidly pushed between my lips, traveling the length of my slit.

“She’s a slut, Miss Torri, I’m sure,” Stephanie croaked out.

“Hmmm,” Miss Torri pondered. “I’m still not convinced.”

She pushed Stephanie out of the way, and slipped her right index finger inside me as deep as it would go. Despite my undignified position, and forced capitulation to her sadistic pleasure, I felt myself growing strangely wetter as her finger massaged the smooth interior of my cunt with skilled enthusiasm. My eyelids began to flutter in time with a panting rasp of heavy breathing.

Miss Torri reluctantly eased her finger out of me, and I heard the delicate sound of her slurping it clean. “Oh yes, this one is a slut all right. I’d know the taste anywhere.” She gave a stiff pull on my hair, yanking my head back, as the chill of her crop explored the inside of my thigh with agonizing deliberateness. “I’ve got my eye on you, 18,” she breathed heavily in my ear, before releasing my hair.

I fought to come down off my forced episode of horny indignity, as Miss Torri and Stephanie moved to the next pony. As much as I hated to admit it, the way she’d treated me had an alluring, if not strangely erotic pull to it. It was a shameful feeling actually, because in a way, I wanted to experience more of it.

The hygiene inspection continued, and at one point Stephanie’s whimpering became the hiccup gulping of full-fledged tears. Torri slapped the back of her head so hard, that it made her hair fly outward in a tizzy.

“Quit your whining, you little twat. You fucking show ponies are so goddamn spoiled and soft, it makes me want to puke.” Stephanie whimpered louder. “Get your face back in there or I’ll put you in the harness.” Stephanie instantly complied, inspecting the next pony, choking back her sniffles.

Our inspection finally came to an end after each and every one of us was labeled a dirty, pony slut. Stephanie was finally allowed to take her place back in line, visibly distraught, and we were given permission to stand.

Torri paced before us, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Since it seems none of you know how to keep that filthy hole between your legs clean on your own, I’ll just have to give you another block of instruction on how it’s properly done. Everyone down to the showers, move!”

My heart raced from the smell of fear in the air, as we rushed down the corridor in a bevy of immediate compliance. Those near the end of the pack, or more appropriately named herd, were pushing the rest of us forward under a rain of motivational slaps on the ass from Torri’s crop. I didn’t like this at all, it was by far worse than how I’d been treated at Holloway Trading. At least they were professional while carrying out their duties, but this… I was being treated worse than an animal now, we all were.

Our procession of jittery flesh ended in a large open shower used primarily by the brutes. The room was dim, giving the scummy wall to wall white tiling a hazy appearance. Numerous showerheads were spaced evenly about the room, and the air smelled musty with years of use, if not moldy.

We all drew back against the far wall in a pressing mass, as if we could actually escape the fate about to befall us. Crystal was close beside me, and she took my hand in a reassuring grip while Torri and the guard, Roger, began unrolling thick hoses from a circular reel. Whatever was about to happen didn’t look good, the others were terrified, and for good reason if I were to guess. The idea of being a pony slave didn’t seem all that fun to me anymore.

Chapter Six

Crystal, Roxy, Clover and I ate breakfast in silence, eyes downcast. Even among the obvious cliques of the stable, there were sub-cliques. I guess I belonged to this one now, and Crystal was our unofficial leader. This was usually a time of flighty social interaction between us, but this morning was a sullen affair, at least for us show ponies that had undergone a lesson in proper feminine hygiene last night. Being pelted unmercifully with cold, high-pressure water for over fifteen minutes, while being the recipient of a forced enema and massive douche before we could leave, didn’t exactly put you in a talkative mood afterwards.

Torri stalked among the tables around us, listening, watching, hunting, as self-righteous and omnipotent as ever. Nathan wasn’t here yet, and I was afraid she would torment us with some new form of devilry at any minute, if he didn’t show up soon. When she passed close behind me, I couldn’t help but shudder. It was bad enough that I was worried about my presentation later tonight, but what Torri had said to me in private last night, only gave me a new source of apprehension to mull over. I didn’t get much sleep because of it, if any at all.

She’d stopped me, the last one to leave, backing me into a corner when we were alone. I was too rattled and waterlogged, beaten into submission by water at the time to do anything but cower before her.

“A word of advice, 18.” Torri breathed in my ear with putrid sensuality, lips parting in obvious hunger as she pressed against me. “Not a word about this to Burke. He’s not going to be around much longer, and then I’m going to be running the show around here.” Her fingertips trailed lightly down my cheek, over my left breast. I shivered under the lewd greed of her stare. “I can make things pleasant for you if we… come to an understanding with one another.” She cupped my breast, giving it a firm squeeze. Her lips attacked mine with a ravenous frenzy. “Rewards.” Her tongue pushed through my taut lips. “Privileges.” I fought against the urge to recoil. “Exemptions from duty.” She broke the kiss, panting and livid with teeming arousal. “If not, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” She smiled with the disarming kindness of a shark, giving me a playful swat on the butt, shooing me out of the shower room. “Think about it, 18, I’m not so bad once you get to know me.” After what I’d just gone through, I found that incredibly hard to believe.

I couldn’t help but ponder Torri’s admission of Nathan’s inevitable departure, as I tried to force down my breakfast. Was he planning to leave in the near future? He did say he hated it here, and apparently he had no ties holding him down. Would he actually leave without saying anything to me beforehand? Was I actually naive enough to think that a onetime lay by a woman, no a slave, that he hadn’t seen in more than five years, who he hardly even knew for that matter, was enough to earn a shred of loyalty from him? I would be alone again after he left, and then what? Become a pony toy for Torri, either willing or unwilling, when I wasn’t entertaining the Master or Mistress? Oh, and let’s not forget about Cirus fucking me from time to time.

I found it hard to believe that Nathan’s behavior thus far was nothing but a well-calculated ruse to woe me into a single instance of sex. I’d looked into his eyes and seen the truth behind him. Nathan was genuine, I’m sure of it. Still, my anxiety-laden fears with no answers continued to haunt me throughout the day, until more pressing issues took their place.

***

Today hadn’t been a disaster, but I wouldn’t call it good either. Nathan’s mood this morning turned out to be just as dark as mine, and mysteriously withdrawn, if not professionally cold at times. His brooding mannerisms threw me completely off guard, and I found it increasingly harder to concentrate on my training as the day wore on. He was even forced to give me several verbal, yet stinging, reprimands due to my inattentiveness.

“Get your head in the game and pay attention, 18! You have to get this right; zero defects tonight, or your ass is really going to be in a world of hurt. Your Master,” he seethed bitterly, “
will
discipline you harshly if you fail him.” Nathan leaned close to my ear, barely whispering. “And I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Being disciplined by the Master seemed like a distant concern while I moped in silent disappointment until the end of training. It still surprised me at how upset I was for failing to meet Nathan’s simple expectations throughout the day.

He disappeared without a word, shortly after dropping me off to turn in my gear. This only added to my unease, as I made my way quickly to the dining room; time was running short, but I needed to eat something. The sharp, stabbing cramps of a nerve racked and queasy stomach were fast approaching an incapacitating state. I wolfed my food down like a starved animal, and it only made things worse. It felt like my guts were tied in knots. I broke out in a cold sweat, barely making it to the refresher before throwing up.

After regaining some level of control in my churning stomach, I was whisked away by several staff members to be bathed. I received a quick rub down afterwards with scented oil and body perfume before being hustled into another room for my makeup preparation. The woman was a real pro, and the deft confidence and speed at which she worked left me utterly bewildered. My damp hair and tail were combed out, trimmed, and tightly wrapped back into a ponytail, and well… a ponytail. Bright red lipstick, dark eye shadow and a little bit of rouge stood out in contrast to my bleached skin. An accenting hint of pink covered the top of my breasts and pubis, and my twinkling adornment of diamond jewelry finished off the package. She made a comment about how I didn’t look well, how pale I was despite my skin color.
You think?
I felt like I was about ready to throw up again.

My last stop was Connell and his assistant, and despite their gentle outfitting, I felt like a limp noodle in their hurried hands. I was nearly finished, and the assistant was about to lace-up my arm mittens when Nathan suddenly appeared at my side, startling all of us.

“Leave the mittens off, Jeff, she isn’t ready for them yet.”
Thank God!
I was starting to think I wouldn’t get a chance to see him before it was time for me to leave.

“Yes, Mr. Burke.”

Nathan was dressed in a pair of beige slacks with a mahogany belt, black dress shoes, and a charcoal short-sleeve shirt tucked in at the waist that accented his defined, V-shape torso even more. He was freshly shaven, mustache precisely trimmed and smelled lightly of cologne. I nearly swooned under the air of regality he gave off despite the sunglasses poking out of the shirt breast pocket, and the out of place embellishment of tattoos.
He cleans up rather nicely, doesn’t he?

“I’ll take her, Carl,” Nathan said glumly, but with his normal air of command to my two escorts. “I need to give her a finally briefing.”

“Yes, sir.” Nathan slowed our pace; intentionally distancing us from the two guards that started down the corridor in the direction of the loading dock. The light touch of his finger on the top of my hand was a simple caress of compassionate reassurance.

“Remember,” Nathan whispered. “Do
exactly
as you’re told and don’t speak unless directly spoken to and given permission. You’re a pony now, and don’t forget it.” I whinnied meekly in acknowledgment. “There’s going to be a lot of people attending the party tonight, and your Master’s pets are a direct reflection on him. Follow his orders or any orders from a freeman for that matter without hesitation. Just keep your head on straight.” The real Nathan, the one I so desperately craved attention from began to surface, just as we stepped into the open expanse of the loading dock. “I know you can do this, I have faith in you, 18. Just be the survivor that I know you are and everything will be fine.”

I started to shake again, eyes misting over.
Please, Nathan, don’t leave me, I’m scared!
I saw my pain reflected in his face.

“Here you go, Carl, she’s good to go. Be
extremely
gentle with her; Mr. Savota has a small fortune invested in her. Make sure word gets around to the others as well.” I was the only one in the room that heard Nathan’s hidden concern for me.

“Yes, Mr. Burke. Let’s go, 18, up on the gravity platform.”

Carl and the other guard took my arms, guiding me, helping me up on the large hovering rectangle. I nearly lost my balance from the shifting weight until they steadied me again. Nathan was gone by the time I turned around in search of him.

A sparkling, metallic green shipping container with drop away walls, dotted with air holes at the top, was pieced together around me. The damn thing was even going to be tied together with a red bow, just like any other present would be. I was encased in near darkness now, and I didn’t like it, not one bit. I felt helplessly isolated and alone. A strange, gnawing urge began to grow inside me; I sought the comfort of my brothers and sisters, craving the safety of the herd, as odd as that may sound. Strength and safety in numbers…

The sensation of a gliding movement drifted upwards through the soles of my boots, causing my center of gravity to shift again. I steadied myself against the sides of the container as I entered the smothering heat of the outdoors, en route to the multi-story main house that I’d seen only at a distance thus far. It wasn’t long before I heard a chattering mix of voices and music, amid the echoing clip clop of pony hooves on densely packed road surface. The cacophony of noise grew steadily louder, and the air took on an immediate chill; I was inside the house now.

The grav-platform stopped, lowering smoothly to the floor. Laughter and a myriad of party born noises grew into a deafening roar around my enclosure, while the occasional, isolated voice drew close in curiosity trying to peek through the air holes in hopes of getting a look at me. I wondered if this is what animals in a zoo felt like, when the throngs of people came to see them on display?

I must have stayed in my box for more than an hour, nervous and flighty, as the party ebbed and flowed around me. After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, a commanding male voice called everyone to order.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, friends and family, I would like to firstly thank each and every one of you for attending the fifty-fifth birthday of my lovely wife, Donna.”

There was a chorus of applause and shouts.
Here it comes
I thought trying to calm myself, to control the apprehensive shaking that racked my body.
Damn
…I have to pee.

“I have the distinct honor of presenting a very special gift to my wife, one that I know she’ll enjoy for many years to come, the only one of her kind on our fair planet, in fact. Dear? Go on, open your present.”

Bubbling female laughter, and excited clapping, erupted from the other side of the box. “Thank you, Michael, I can’t wait to see what it is!”

Rustling, and the frantic scratching of excited fingers on the container, echoed around me as the bow was untied and the sides fell away. I was momentarily blinded, squinting against the harsh glare of lights. I didn’t need to see to know the reaction I had among the hundred or so guests filling the large and lavishly decorated room. A wave of hushed gasps, speckled with ‘oooh’s and ahhh’s’ around me, was akin to a strong breeze.

A bout of dizziness hit me when my eyes came into focus, vision slowly returning. They jumped and darted, flashing across the scene as disoriented repulsion rose inside me. It was, to put it in the simplest terms, a Roman orgy in leather, human pets, the Marquis de Sade’s mansion, and a stock brokers meeting all rolled into one. The background noise and music all blurred into the single sound of hedonistic sex and wealth. It was disgustingly arousing, and left me in a state of mute shock.

A very pretty woman stood before me in a translucent white, strapless dress that molded scandalously to every curve of her sleek, tailored frame. Her dark nipples, and the shadowy patch of hair between her legs, stood out just as blatantly as if she was nude. Even still, she looked elegantly regal: her chestnut brown hair was up in a meticulously perfect bun, her makeup was perfect, and jewelry set with a rainbow of precious stones glittering off her neck and shapely frame. It didn’t surprise me she looked much younger than her actual age.
Fifty-five my ass.
She could have easily passed for half that. Then again, most people with money could afford the age regression treatments needed to maintain a youthful appearance until well over a hundred.

The woman I assumed to be Donna Savota, my new Mistress, stared at me with a lost and vacant expression almost like she was confused. It gave me the impression that the lights were on, but there was no one home upstairs.

“A pony,” she cried suddenly, clapping her hands again, jumping up and down like an excited kid. “She’s pretty, Michael, thank you!” I stepped awkwardly down from the platform, whinnying loudly to the satisfaction of the crowd. My Mistress was tall, and I had to go to my toes to reach her cheek, nuzzling it lovingly. She giggled, giving me a hug, petting my head.

“I can’t wait to enter her in a show, Michael.”

A considerably shorter and oppositely obese man, stopped beside her. There was a dark and sinister light behind his eyes, set beneath medium length black hair. He had one of those crazy, Fu Manchu style mustaches that made him look like an evil villain from a cheap spy movie. The exquisitely ornate, red and gold Kimono tied loosely about his bulging waist accented his slight oriental features even more. He was naked beneath it, ending in a pair of red slippers. In one hand he carried a riding crop, and strapped to his other arm just above the wrist, and now part of an armband, was my controller.

My controller!
I’d felt the tickling stranger make its reappearance, while waiting in the box. The demanding pull of it was too much to resist now, igniting a trembling quake in both pair of my lips.
Master, I’m here for you at last!

“No dear,” he smiled, but his condescending tone reminded me of a parent addressing a small child. “She isn’t a show pony, she’s for riding.”

My Mistress had a dumfounded look on her face, confused, as the simple mind she must have been born with tried in vain to process the information coming at her. “I don’t understand…she’s so…so… little?”

“Watch, dear, I told you she was special.”

The Master’s crop slapped the back of my thigh like a thunderclap. It hurt, it hurt like hell, but I didn’t let it show as I knelt down with fluid grace, practiced repeatedly for this very moment. His sagging girth settled awkwardly into the saddle, and I strained to keep from being pulled off balance. It hadn’t been made for someone as large as him. The jerking pull on my shoulders while he situated himself continually threatened to spill the both of us to the ground at any moment. I didn’t even want to think about the punishment that I’d suffer if that happened.

The slap of his crop sounded again, and every servo in my body ramped up in whining diligence. The room grew quiet, awed by the sight, as I rose to a standing position accompanied by the sound of creaking leather. Mistress Donna stared at me gape-mouthed like I’d sprouted an extra head. The Master spurred my sides, and I gingerly started to walk with the most exact form of a prancing pony I could muster. The entire room continued to watch in stunned silence; even the music had stopped.

I was guided in a lazy circle around the Mistress, and she burst into a series of high-pitched squeals of excitement, jumping up and down, clapping. I whinnied loudly, tossing my head from side to side, and the entire room burst into a thunderous applause. My face took on a rosy glow, and I tried to smile around my bit. They were watching
me
, applauding
me,
and I liked it.

“My turn, my turn, Michael! I want to ride my pony, please?” The Master laughed, pulling me to a stop beside her. I swished my tail back and forth excitedly, bobbing my head up and down.

“Of course, dear, go mingle and play with your new pet for a while.” I knelt and they switched places, coming back to my feet amid her silly laughs, and child-like cries of enthusiasm. She towered above the crowd like a goddess on a throne now, all eyes on her. I think she liked the attention as much as I did; something told me she was pushed into a corner more often than not during events like this.

Mistress walked me among the crowd, chatting eagerly with her friends. It wasn’t uncommon to feel hands touching me in the process, appraising my flesh. They marveled at my beauty and strength, complementing my Mistress, telling her what a lucky woman she was to have such an exquisite pet such as myself.

At some point the Mistress habitually started petting my hair with slow, lingering touches, as if the feel of it had a soothing effect on her. If you’re wondering, the answer is yes, I was enjoying all of it. I liked the attention. I liked the feel of Mistress petting me. I liked the feel of strangers approvingly touching my body, of being praised and valued. I liked the feeling of being special. I felt like royalty, even if I was only a pony slave.