Charlotte's Arrival

Cassie stood rooted to the spot, her mouth opened in an "O" of surprise. She, too, was in shock at what had just happened. Her best friend Charlotte had just legally ceased to exist. Right in front of her. On this stranger's say-so. She shook her head and took two tottering steps back, then a third.

Monica reached behind herself and pulled a brown leather collar from the bag on the table her and fixed it around the kneeling slave's slender neck. It was heavy leather and apparently didn't need to be locked, as it clicked shut with a loud metallic ring that was audible to Cassie, who was several paces away at the time.

Cassie didn't know if she should scream, run away, or jump in her car and peal rubber the hell out of there. She looked around for support. She was barely eighteen, barely an adult, and her reflexive instinct was to seek out an authority figure for guidance. But there was no one. The only authority figure nearby was the slaver calmly attaching a leash to her best friend's collar. Even if a state trooper's car pulled up right at that instant, they wouldn't interfere. If anything, they would assist the slaver in taking the new slave girl into custody.

There was an eye-bolt in the concrete slab under the picnic table. Monica attached the slave's leash to it and began cuffing her wrists and ankles. At no point did she stop watching Cassie. Cassie was too scared to move, she stood rooted to the spot. She just stared as, with practiced ease, Monica attached the slave girl's hobble rope to the eye-bolt and detached the leash, letting it drop to the ground.

"Stand, slave."

The slave stood easily. Once again, years of slave yoga training made itself useful as the girl easily rose from her knees to a standing position in spite of having her wrists bound behind her back and her ankles bound by a short rope attached to a concrete block. Then, with the newly-minted slave facing the roadway, Monica took a pair of shears out of her bag and cut the girl's clothes off with practiced efficiency. She didn't bother with doing things separately, she just cut through the slave's t-shirt and bra in one piece, then did the same thing with her denim shorts and panties. In mere moments, Charlotte the clothed teenager had become a naked nameless slave on the side of the road.

Still in shock, Cassie stared at her friend's naked body, then glanced at her face. Charlotte's expression was a mixture of embarrassment and, surprisingly, determination. Charlotte sold herself into slavery and, even if she hadn't been expecting it to happen so suddenly - here and now - she knew it was going to happen and she was determined to see it through.

Cassie was jolted back from her thoughts by a question from the slaver. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if I was going to have any trouble from you?"

"Umm, no, umm, what kind of trouble?"

"I dunno, something stupid like trying to snatch this slave up and running off with her."

"No, umm, I don't think we'd get far, anyway. That would be stupid."

"People do stupid things sometimes, honey." The older woman explained to her patiently.

"Especially when they see someone they know and love getting taken into slavery. Believe me, shit happens. I actually had a slave meet me here once, who suddenly ran off after I cuffed and collared her. She got as far as that fence over there and toppled right over it. I honestly wasn't going to tell anybody about it because I was so embarrassed. She seemed so meek and willing to submit, and the moment I turned my back -- BOOM - she was off like a rocket! It's why I always get the hobble chain on right away now. Live and learn. Anyway, it's a bob wire fence and she ended up with a couple of gashes on her stomach from the wire. So, for the next two years, her slave name was 'Stitches'."

While they were talking, Monica shifted the bag over her shoulder. "Toss that stuff in the trash. Always check the pockets first, though, you might find something you like. This slave needs to piss before she gets in the truck."

Cassie stared at the scraps of cloth lying in the grass. It all happened so fast, she, she... bent over and picked up Charlotte's discarded clothing and tossed it in the trash.

Monica led the new slave girl across the grass, away from the car parking lot and toward the truck parking lot on the opposite side of the rest area. A pair of truckers sitting at a picnic table watched them approach.

"Escaped slave?" one asked.

"No, she's starting a voluntary indenture today, I'm just taking her to the Waco Auction House to get her graded and priced."

"That's a nice piece of ass you got there," the man continued appreciatively over his burrito. "I wish I could afford something like that. Taking her over to the slave yard for a piss?"

"Yup, then we're off."

"You got time for a blowjob? I got $10 for ya if you do."

"No thanks, she'll get plenty of cock over the next couple of years and we're on a time schedule."

"What about this one, is she for sale, too?"

Monica turned and looked behind her to see that Cassie was hustling to catch up. She had tossed the other clothing items in the trash, but she still had the remains of Charlotte's red t-shirt in her hands. Monica frowned at the girl, assessing the risk. She decided that Cassie wasn't a threat, then turned and continued toward the hygiene corral.

The two women, one a slave, and one free, proceeded across the truck parking area. Cassie, who was still a few yards behind them, was glad that Charlotte was still wearing her shoes as it was a really hot summer day and this was Texas.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Hygiene Corral

-=-=-=-=-=-

On the other side of the parking lot was a fenced in area with a six foot high chain link fence topped with coils of razor wire. Inside the fence, the ground was dirt and gravel with a long metal grate down the center. Cassie had known that these places existed, but she had only seen them from a distance. Slavery had some ugly aspects to it and that's the way most people preferred to see them... from a distance. Slaves needed to pee and poop periodically, but they weren't allowed inside the rest area's buildings. That was for humans, and slaves were no longer human. Her friend Charlotte was legally an animal now and would be for the next two years. She had to go potty outside.

Monica led the cuffed girl through the narrow gate and into the enclosure. Cassie watched, and then, when she decided she wasn't going to get yelled at, followed. The slaver stopped the slave girl over the grate running down the middle of the rectangular enclosure. "Squat, piss," Boss Monica commended. "Do you need to poop?"

Cassie watched as the slave girl shook her head and squatted over the grate. At first, her bladder refused to cooperate. There were at least twenty trucks in sight and probably an equal number of cars on the other side of the picnic area. Boss Monica and Cassie were standing over her and watching her as well. Finally, a little trickle opened up and she was able to relieve herself. While she was doing that, the two free women began to talk over her head. That seemed right somehow. She was the slave now, she was beneath their notice. There was no reason why the presence of a slave should prevent free women from conversing. It wasn't as though her opinions were going to be listened to. Charlotte decided right then and there to speak only when spoken to and always obey every command. This was her life for the next two years and she needed to settle into it as quickly as she could.

While they were waiting for the slave girl to obey, Monica told Cassie that she had been very helpful and asked if she had found a summer job yet.

"Yeah, I'm working as a lifeguard at the pool. It's an okay job and I get a free slice of pizza for lunch."

"Well, the ranch is always looking for female grooms. We have a number of clients who are free women who want to play weekend pony. We're starting a new program to ensure that their handlers are always free women. We've had some issues before if we use slaves or free men for that role. The slave grooms don't have the authority needed to protect their charges while they're helpless and the male grooms can't seem to get it through their thick heads that a weekend pony on a "Free-In-Name-Only" (FINO) contract requires different handling and to keep their nasty little pricks in their pants.

"Really? Cassie asked in surprise. "People actually do that? They want to be treated like pony slaves for fun? Aren't ponies..." she glanced down at the slave squatting between them. She didn't want to hurt her best friend's feelings, but some things needed to be said. "Aren't ponies considered the lowest of the low as slaves? I mean, they're just draft animals and cum dumps, they're not even allowed to talk. It's why I'm shocked that Charlotte would even consider this. With her looks and personality, she could have been some rich guy's pampered bedslave. Or at worst, she would have ended up at one of those high-end bordellos."

Monica looked thoughtful for a moment. "You have a point, slavery has very few legal safeguards other than the fact that slaves have to be manumitted without permanent physical damage. In the meantime, anything goes and conditions will vary wildly. One pampered bedslave might live a life of kindness, wearing fabulous clothes to fancy parties and five-star resorts. Another might spend most of her time locked in a closet except for when her Master wants to slap her around and then fuck her while she's sobbing. Or he might be a BDSM afficionado, who knows? Your 'pampered bedslave' might spend her entire indenture being "pampered" with whips and chains. It happens."

"That being said," she continued, "the HH Ranch takes good care of its ponies. We want them to finish their indentures with money in the bank and go off to lead fulfilling lives. We even have former ponies who help recruit for us. We give them a finder's fee, of course, but that's not even necessary for some of them. Oftentimes, if a former pony has a friend who's in some sort of legal or financial trouble, they may guide her to us. It happens more than you might think. We probably refuse more girls than we take on because they don't have the right qualities we're looking for."

"Take this one here, for example," she said, patting the slave on the head. "Hold on, Cassie."

Monica the turned her attention to the squatting slave, "You done pissing? Do you need to shit?" When the slave shook her head, Monica tugged the leash upward.

"Up, up, then," she said, using the same baby-talk tone of voice that people used for the pet dogs.

"Anyway, Cassie, here's what I think," Monica continued. "I think you've got the right qualities we're looking for in a FINO groom. Let's try a few things, I'll give you my contact info, and you can go home and think it over. Does that sound all right? No commitment on your part, you just let me show you a few things about caring for pony slaves and then we can both be on our way in opposite directions. You think it over for a few days and give me a call if you're still interested, got it?"

"All right, what do you want me to do?" Cassie asked.

"Here, hold this leash. Firmly, just like you would for a big dog that might bolt after a squirrel."

Cassie stared at her in shock. "You want me to hold my best friend Charlotte on a leash like she's a dog?"

"No," Monica replied in a non-nonsense instructor tone of voice. "I want you to hold this slave on a leash. Your friend Charlotte isn't here. Legally, Charlotte ceased to exist the moment she shook my hand. She will continue to 'not exist' until this date two years from now. Charlotte is a nonperson."

Monica's voice softened as she continued, "But this SLAVE is still here. Who better to hold her leash; a stranger like me, or a friend like you? Remember, a leash doesn't just control the slave, it also PROTECTS the slave. Nobody will interfere with a leashed slave. It's illegal. Remember those truckers we passed? They were very polite and they kept their hands to themselves because I had this girl on a leash, So, do you want to be this slave girl's temporary protector?"

Cassie nodded slowly. Monica had just given her a lot to think about. But "temporary protector" was loud and clear. While Cassie was holding Charlotte's leash, Charlotte was safe. Cassie could protect her.

"All right then, hold the leash," Monica said as she handed it to her. "Remember, a firm grip in case she falls or bolts. Just like that, good job. Now, we're going to walk her over to that spigot, the one with a hose on it, and we're going to wash her butt. Animals don't use toilet paper and neither do slaves. She just peed and I don't want that on my truck seat. She can't do it herself, because she can't use her hands right now, got it?"

Cassie nodded and gave a tentative tug on the leash to get Charlotte -- she couldn't think of her as "nameless slave girl" - this was still her best friend Charlotte - moving. Then she walked ahead of her, keeping pace with the girl's hobbled steps. The rope between her ankles gave her just enough length to walk almost normally, but not enough to run.

"Now," Monica continued coaching, "remember that, when they are tacked up, ponies are completely helpless. They might be helpless for hours at a time and working in the hot sun that whole time. Normally that's not the case, but its best to always set the standard of care for the most severe conditions. So, this here slave is helpless. She can't speak. She can't tell us what her needs are. That means we need to figure it out."

"Have her bend over at the waist. Use the hose to clean her off. That's right, spray it down good. No, don't use that rag on her butt, let it dry naturally. Its already clean, you washed it."

"Excellent. Since we're already here, we'll do an inspection of our pony. Always start with the feet because that's the most important part of a working pony. We finish with the head, because that's the least important."

"To check the feet, just press various places - here watch me do it - and ask her if anything is sore. We're not pampering this slave, we're just making sure she's fit to continue in service. Pony boots can be hard on the ankles and shins since the design of the boot hyper-extends the lower leg and that can stress the joints and ligaments. If they start having serious issues, we can rotate them through pool duty or golf duty, neither of which requires pony boots. So, if this slave girl was on pool duty, she would be wearing flip flops. On the golf course, running shoes like she's wearing here, okay?"

Cassie nodded, fascinated. This was so interesting. Monica's calm, matter of fact teaching style had completely taken her mind off her own emotional trauma at losing her best friend. Although she didn't realize it yet, her former best friend was already slipping into the role of a passive teaching tool, rather than a person.

"So, slave, did you experience any discomfort when I applied pressure to any of those spots?

The slave had also been caught up in the lesson. The difference was that she was learning it from the inside, rather than the outside. So it's understandable that she forgot that pony slaves don't talk.

"No, Ma'am," she said. Or at least that's what she thought she said. Instead, the sound she made was a purely equine nickering sound, which evoked a delighted grin from Boss Monica. Astonished, the slave looked at an equally surprised Cassie.

Monica stood up chuckling. "I do so love it when they first figure it out. Cassie, these collars have an electronic voice modulator that automatically cancels out any accidental human speech the pony might make. Then it covers it up with horse sounds. Pretty clever, huh? Ever year they come out with better and better versions it. When I first started at the ranch, the sounds were annoyingly artificial, but that right there sounded just like the real thing, didn't it?

"I'm not real familiar with horses, but yeah. I almost looked around for a horse."

"Well, here's your pony right here," Monica told her, grinning, as she patted the slave on the flank.

"Here, watch this, it gets even better. Slave, say 'Hook 'em Horns!'" Monica commanded.

The slave tried to say "Hook 'em Horns?" but instead made a confused whicker.

"Good, good, now say it like you're really angry."

The slave obeyed and managed to make a very convincing angry equine animal snort.

Monica laughed again, "I love that so much. All right, enough play time, back to work. Let's finish the inspection."

She crouched back down in front of the slave. "See this here?" she said pointing at the slave's knee. There was a single sand burr embedded in the smooth skin. Anyone growing up in Texas knew that the grass could always be hiding these tiny menaces. Given the option, Charlotte probably wouldn't have gone down on her unprotected knees in the grass, but her body had obeyed Boss Monica's slave command automatically.

Cassie was immediately concerned. "Oh no! Charlie, you hurt yourself!" she exclaimed.

"Charlotte's not here, Cassie. I already explained that to you." Monica told her patiently. She carefully plucked the burr from the slave's knee, revealing a few tiny spots of blood.

"The slave didn't injure herself. I'm the one who injured her, because I ordered her to kneel on that spot. She was just obeying orders. I checked for stickers earlier and I guess I just missed one. It's a perfect example of a pony being injured because the person in charge made a mistake. On the other hand, I forgive myself because it's a very small injury. It's still an injury, though, and we need to put some ointment on it."

Monica reached into her bag and pulled out a small med kit. "Here," she said, handing Cassie a small tube. "Remember, ponies are helpless animals who rely on us for everything. In this case, first aid so this tiny wound doesn't become infected and get to be a bigger problem. That also includes things like chafing and blisters from their harnesses. Caring for ponies is an important job. That's why we pay a lot more than minimum wage. Ponies are valuable investments, and we don't want them to be unable to perform their duties."

"Now, we already checked her feet and knees. Pony boots have built-in knee pads, which is helpful because they spend a lot of time on their knees either resting or servicing guests. Now, as an experienced lifeguard, what's next?"

"Umm..." Cassie thought for a bit. "Suntan lotion?"

"Correct, although we'll be using sunblock. Ponies get plenty of sun, they don't need tanning lotion. Now, this pony is a fair-skinned blonde, so we need to take strong precautions. Also, she has only recently been enslaved, so there are a lot of areas to cover that have never been exposed to the sun. Some of those areas are extremely delicate and sensitive, so we need to cover them really well."

"Do you think you can handle that?" Monica continued, as she handed Cassie a plain lotion bottle marked "Sun Pony Sunblock" in big block lettering. It wasn't the sort of brightly-colored packaging Cassie might see in the grocery aisle. It was a plain white bottle that the ranch probably purchased by the case.

Cassie took the bottle hesitantly. She had been trying hard not to stare at the slave's formerly-private parts. And now this woman, who she just met, and who just enslaved her beloved childhood friend, was asking her to rub lotion over bit of her exposed skin. Which was to say, all of her, including her naughty bits.

Seeing Cassie hesitate, Monica decided to turn the guilt screws. "If we don't do it, she could get burnt pretty bad. And if you won't do it, I will. I don't mind, I do it all the time. But wouldn't it be better for her if someone she cares about puts their hands all over her rather than a total stranger? She'll be getting more than enough of that very soon."