Atonement Session Ch. 01

As the deacon and the cowboy scurried away from the fading sounds of angry women, the elevator door that they were hoping to escape into binged and opened, revealing Deacon Maisie's superior, Parson Jon Goins. Beside him was his wife, Mrs. Goins. Like Mrs. Maisie, she was holding her booping and buzzing phone with a white-knuckled grip and wore a furious scowl on her face. Ignoring her husband, she stomped her way out of the elevator and barked at Deacon Maisie, "Where are they!?!"

They told her and the three men watched her fury-stomp her way down the hall. The deacon spoke first, "Jon, we were just going to get some cokes at the bar, care to join us?"

Parson Goins chuckled deep in his chest before responding. "Yeah, except make mine a whiskey, I have a feeling we're going to need liquid courage tonight." The three men were soon ensconced safely in a secluded booth at the hotel bar. There were no angry women nearby, and the atmosphere was quite soothing. Both the deacon and the parson seemed to be more familiar than one might expect with Boss Caleb, a man who worked at what was essentially an open-air slave brothel. The truth of the matter was that the two religious leaders had been "counseling" the Ranch's slave boys for years now. These counseling sessions were actually quite beneficial to the boys, which is why Harriette encouraged it. It was also helpful that they were paying customers and the Church always paid on time.

Parson Goins sipped his whiskey and sighed. "John, I'm thinking of going golfing tomorrow morning. What do you think?"

The deacon nodded thoughtfully. "I think that's a good idea. Hey Caleb, do you think we could fit in a round of golf tomorrow if we each provide a mare to pull our bags for us?"

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Back in the slave breakroom, events proceeded apace. Right now, four women were locked in an angry stare-down.

On the one side, two Church matrons wearing modest ankle-length dresses. On the other side, two teenage girls wearing slinky starlet dresses. All four women had their hands on their hips. The matrons were both glaring with angry authority at the two teens, who stared back in defiance.

The angry voices had stopped and Mrs. Maisie, the mother of the two girls, was trying to calm things down. "The wardrobe tech is on her way here with your gowns. Once you get them back, you can change into more appropriate clothing. Then you can wait here and attend the after party. All right?"

Mollified, the girls nodded. They felt like they had done nothing wrong, but here they were being accused of intentionally flashing national television with their bare bottoms... and vaginas.

Off to one side, Harriette sat in her chair enjoying the show. Beside her the ponies and grooms had joined their respective kneeling mats together and were slumped over in a pony-pile, resting. Although Harriette's ponies were nominally only in pony-mode for 8 hours per day, they never really knew when those hours would be, so they napped whenever possible. It was likely that tonight was going to be a very long night of providing sexual services to VIP guests at the after party, so napping was a good idea.

Harriette looked over at them, smiling fondly. She had removed their concealing headgear and could see their peaceful young faces as they laid in a tangled pile of smooth, hairless limbs. She might be a slaver, but she truly did care for her charges. Two of these ponies would be leaving her soon for new owners and she was going to miss them. Her phone booped and she looked at it and then poked Thanh awake.

Thanh quickly rose to her knees beside the pony-pile. Harriette leaned over and told her "Here it comes, keep an eye on things here in the corner in case I get called away."

Thanh nodded silently. She was always amazed at the elaborate machinations that Harriette went through to convince pretty girls with bright futures to voluntarily enslave themselves to her. Although Thanh's own enslavement had been extremely traumatic and involuntary, she appreciated a good voluntary enslavement plot. Part of it was perhaps schadenfreude as she watched formerly-haughty and oh-so-superior free girls fall prey to the nefarious plans of their elders. The only question she had was the role of Mrs. Goins. Although Thanh had seen Mrs. Maisie, pony name "Old Red Mare", trotting about the Ranch on full pony regalia many times, she hadn't seen Mrs. Goins before. Was she just here to add pressure on the twins, or was she also a target of the plot?

Struck by the thought, Thanh began to critically evaluate the physical attributes of the parson's wife. Thanh was approaching her 23rd birthday and the end of her five-year indenture. Mrs. Goins looked to be about... 20 years older than she was? Like Thanh, she had thick, straight ebony hair. It was hard for Thanh to judge its length as it was in a bun, but it was likely mid-back or even waist-length. It was probably lovely when it was down, thought Thanh. On the other hand, it would also look quite fetching in a pony hairstyle - either put up in a topknot or pulled back with a mane-comb. Physically, she looked good for her age, although she could look better. Even though both of the Church matrons were wearing modest, ankle-length dresses, it was clear to Thanh that Mrs. Maisie's regular regimen of pony-training had made her much more physically fit. "It's amazing what a few weeks of pony chow and cart training can do to cellulite," she thought.

A calculating smile crossed her features and she glanced up at Mistress Harriette while cocking an eyebrow. Mistress gave her own half-smile and looked down at the inquisitive groom. "Shh," she whispered to the kneeling slave while massaging the back of her neck, "Soon. Let it play out, all the pieces are already in motion."

Thanh nodded with determination. The ponies were now her responsibility. Mistress Harriette would be distracted for a bit, and She needed Thanh to be here to protect them.

Thanh had failed these particular ponies before. A little over three months ago, a rowdy group of Ivy League college students led by Fratboy and Chloe had come to the Ranch and... misbehaved. Sweet, 98-pound, 18-yr-old Meadow had had a near-fatal amount of alcohol poured down her throat. Kind, gentle Daybreak had been pinned down on a splintery old picnic table and used savagely, resulting in multiple bleeding and painful splinters and lacerations.

Thanh was taking the Golden Hammer, the Ranch's most powerful pony stallion, on a morning jog when she encountered the scene. Pony collars prevent ponies from using intelligible speech, but they don't prevent moaning or screaming. As Thanh drove Hammer's training cart up to the remote picnic area, she saw and heard several things that sent chills down her spine and set off all of her alarms for danger. The disturbing sight of Meadow's pale, unmoving legs sticking out of some tall weeds where she had collapsed or been tossed aside... Daybreak's anguished face as an inexperienced and uncaring sodomizer rammed himself into her repeatedly... the bloody scratches covering Daybreak's slender torso. Thanh thumbed the emergency beacon on her walkie-talkie without hesitation, tossed it into the tall grass, and leapt out of her cart seat to put a stop to it.

Her heroic charge was an utter failure. Of course it was. She was a slave girl. She had no rights, she had no authority of her own, she didn't even have humanity. She weighed 102 pounds. The five men grabbed her, pinned her to a breeding bench on her back, and bound her tightly. But all was not lost. Daybreak had been released and slowly crept over to Meadow's side. Daybreak's hands were still bound behind her back, so there was nothing she could do for the fallen pony, but at least they were together now. The walkie-talkie was in the tall grass somewhere, broadcasting its emergency signal. Help was on the way, Thanh just needed to endure. If a veteran slave learned anything at all, it was how to endure.

As she was slammed down on the bench, she managed to turn her head to see what Hammer was doing and was relieved to see him walking away. The Hammer was... volatile. The safety and well-being of Mistress Harriette's prize stallion was Thanh's primary responsibility and she had committed a serious beach of slave discipline in trying to rescue a few relatively-inexpensive pleasure ponies instead. She saw him jogging away by himself in the direction of the next watering hole before her vision was occluded by a sweaty, blood-and-shit-covered cock that was then rammed into her mouth. Then she was looking up at Fratboy's leering face as he slammed himself into her unprepared rectum in a single powerful thrust. Sunlight... daylight... white light... she screamed.

Back in the present, she shuddered, eyes open wide and seeing nothing. It was Mistress Harriette's reassuring touch that brought her back.

"Shh, shh, honey, it's all right. That was a bad one, wasn't it?"

Wordlessly, Thanh nodded.

Harriette leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Just remember... after tonight it will never happen again. Fratboy is experiencing the joys of anal sex right now at the hands of the Sheriff's deputies and their chromium steel strapons. We're going to whip him in a few minutes. Everyone will know that I protect what is mine and this is what I do to those who harm my property."

Just then the door banged open and a woman entered the room. She wore a Slave Channel logoed polo shirt and carried a clipboard. Although the break room was technically a dressing room, she didn't bother to knock. Slaves have no right to privacy. "Hi, I'm Marcie from props, I believe you have..." she began before Mrs. Maisie rounded on her.

"Where are the dresses?" she demanded.

"Oh yeah, that... I checked and we already disposed of them."

The twins' mouths popped open in surprise, but one fierce look from their mother kept them from saying anything.

"And can you tell me why the new dresses that I just bought with my own money were disposed of?" she asked in a tone of voice that made liquid helium seem like a pleasant afternoon beverage.

The woman shrugged and responded, "Because they were on the disposal rack. Everyone just assumed that they were going to be signing starlet contracts and we figured they didn't need clothing anymore because they would be leaving here naked and collared..."

She was about to continue, but Mrs. Maisie held up her hand to silence her and looked inquiringly at her daughters.

Suddenly the defiance leaked out of them and they looked very abashed.

Susan spoke first, "Well, umm, you see mom, we talked to a talent scout and..."

Sharon finished the sentence in a rush, "And nothing happened, we didn't sign anything, Caleb came in and said 'That ain't happening' and brought us down here."

Their mother just stared at them for a few agonizing moments and then spoke again. "I see, and this so-called 'talent scout' handed you a contract?" Her tone of voice hadn't warmed in the slightest. The girls nodded, now looking extremely embarrassed. "I see, and did he hand you a pen?"

"Well yeah, Mom, that's how you sign contracts..."

"Quiet! I know how to sign contracts! I also know when it's a profoundly stupid thing to do!' she snapped at them. She looked at Mrs. Goins, who had remained silent while Mrs. Maisie chastised her daughters.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Mrs. Goins continued to stare stonily at the two girls. "I think they need to be taught a lesson," she said.

"Agreed," Mrs. Maisie responded, then turned to the prop manager and addressed her, "Marcie, was it? I assume you're here to take these two jezebel costumes?"

Marcie smiled and nodded.

"Good! They never should have put these on in the first place!" Mrs. Maisie declared.

"But Mom, they told us to!"

"Then you should have told them 'no'. Now strip!"

"But Mom!" they protested simultaneously while looking around frantically for support. There was no support. Not in this room.

"It's fine, we're all girls here, it's no different from stripping in the girls locker rooms or when you and your little friends practiced slave yoga in the nude when you thought we didn't know about it... now STRIP!"

Huffing and sighing in protest, the two teenagers reluctantly shimmied out of the satin starlet dresses and stood their arms and hands covering their breasts and unshorn copper-colored bushes. Harriette smiled at the sight. One of the reasons she personally preferred fair-skinned girls was because their blushes were so intensely obvious. Even the skin between their breasts was turning a bright rosy pink. Fortunately, there was no place for the girls to hide or they might have panicked and run off. Instead, they just stood there blushing furiously.

"Nice fire-crotches" commented Marcie as she scooped up the costumes and left the room.

"Mom, how are we supposed to get home now?"

"Don't worry, I've arranged for transportation. Harriette?"

Harriette was arranging twin stacks of paper on the table across the room. Both matrons went over and started having a discussion with her in low tones. The girls couldn't hear what they were saying, but Mrs. Goins initially seemed quite distressed, although was eventually brought around to support whatever it was that they were doing. She even turned around to give the girls a triumphant and malicious look before turning back to the pile of documents on the table.

"What are they doing?" whispered Sharon, "are they going to transport us home like slaves, naked in a cage or something?" Susan didn't respond, as she was suddenly imagining herself crouched in a steel cage on the back of a trailer or pickup truck roaring down the highway, exposed to the lusting views of all the passing drivers. All her life she had been locked in a chaperoned modesty prison of ankle-length dresses and hawk-eyed hovering matrons. She was stifled, her twin sister was stifled. They couldn't breathe.

During their senior year in high school, the first crack in the prison walls opened up. During their mandatory slave yoga classes sponsored by the Church, they could imagine themselves surrendering their modesty to their future husbands and suddenly they could breathe again. They became devoted practitioners of the art, even taking up the school's offer of additional training classes. Not only was it a great physical fitness and flexibility regimen, it also allowed them to briefly fantasize about their sexual future instead of simply focusing on projecting an image of being non-sexual creatures in the present.

That was what had attracted them to the dressage pony competitions. The ponies were sexual beings with zero modesty. They were slaves and slaves had no modesty at all. It was not permitted. They were beautiful and glamorous as they pranced around the arena, moving with trained grace and style, their sexuality exposed for all the world to see. They might be imprisoned in leather bondage, but they were free of the invisible modesty chains that Susan and Sharon wore on their own bodies. That was the second crack in the walls of the modesty prison.

The third crack was tonight, when they ran out on the studio floor wearing emerald satin mini dresses. The kind that real starlets wore every day. It had been so thrilling to hear the approval of the crowd as they ran out from behind the curtain, braless and bouncing, clad in nothing but a single piece of skintight stretch satin that went nowhere near their ankles.

The two girls' thoughts, as always, ran in parallel. They looked at one another and then, with triumphant smiles, folded their arms beneath their breasts, exposing their charms to the room. Witnessing the defiant display, Thanh giggled and gave them both a thumbs-up. She was going to have SO much fun playing with them this weekend.

Finally, the two matrons seemed satisfied. Mrs. Maisie turned around and summoned her wayward daughters forward and indicated the two stacks of paper on the table. "These are contracts for a weekend of dressage pony training... with you two as the ponies. They're "Free-In-Name-Only" contracts. That means that you're not actually a slave, but you will be treated as one for the next 48 hours. You wanted a taste of slavery, your Father and I are granting you your wish. I am acting with His authority here. If you are concerned with losing your virginities - as you SHOULD be - then don't be. The contract contains a rider that specifies that neither one of you will have vaginal intercourse during the next 48 hours. Your virginities will remain intact for your future husbands to claim on your wedding night. The penalty clause in this contract is $50,000... each. Mrs. Valdez isn't going to take any chances. Your Father and I will arrive on Sunday afternoon with clothing for each of you and then we will go home. If anyone asks us regarding your whereabouts, you are both on a "penitential spiritual retreat" as punishment for your shameful display out there on the studio floor. I will keep your phones in my purse until then. Any questions?"

"Fifty thousand dollars? You're keeping our phones!" The girls were shocked.

Mrs. Valdez answered the first question in an almost-bored tone of voice.

"It's the going price for the virginity of a prime-graded pleasure slave. Don't worry, I have no intention of auctioning off your hymens. I've actually had quite a number of virgin FINO slaves at the HH and all went home with their virginities intact."

"You can auction off a girl's virginity?" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

Harriette smiled at them. It was not a reassuring smile. "Yes, I can, I've done it before and I'll do it again. But not in your case, sign here."

She handed them HH-logoed pens and they both signed, scowling at everyone. They really DID want to at least try to be dressage ponies, but they had originally imagined doing it while wearing spandex exercise gear. That's how the under-18 dressage ponies did it. Maybe they would be provided with leotards at the ranch?

Harriette looked at her phone. "Normally I would tell you to strip right now, but you've already taken care of that for me," she said drily. She then pointed at their mats and commanded "Knees!" The two naked girls rushed over to the mats and got on their knees. The full magnitude of what they had just done hadn't quite hit them just yet. They would be learning more about that throughout the evening. Once they were both on the mats, Harriette commanded "Collar!" and both girls obediently bent their slender necks and raised their hair up, clearing them to be collared.

Thanh came up with two custom-made and rhinestone-decorated white leather pony collars and offered them to her Mistress. Harriette shook her head and said "I think that these two helpful chaperones should handle that."

The matrons eagerly reached for the collars and secured them around the kneeling teenagers' necks. They closed with a loud simultaneous double-click that seemed to reverberate through the quiet room, echoing off the cinderblock walls and linoleum flooring.

Mrs. Maisie stared down at her two youngest daughters in shock. The four of them had arrived here as a happy, well-dressed, Godly family that others must have envied. And now her beautiful, beloved daughters had been stripped and collared and... she herself had done it. She sold her daughters onto slavery! She needed to save them!

"Harriette?" she said, realizing that Mrs. Valdez was headed for the door, "Do you have a key for these collars?"

"Yes, I do," Harriette responded, "See you at the after party." And then she walked out the door.

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Back in the Studio

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Mr. Smith watched the final victory lap of the Evil Pony Minions and smiled a genuine smile. So many of these atonement shows were the boring same-old, same-old. This had been new and original, and he'd really enjoyed it. Maybe he would renew his employment contract this year. He said that to himself every year. Then he always did.