Charlotte's Arrival

Seeing that the girl was still hesitating, Monica decided to throw her a bone. "Tell you what, we'll share the job, you start on that leg and I'll start on this one. Deal?"

Cassie agreed and soon the two women were running their hands up and down the nameless slave's legs. Just as they were reaching the apex of the pony's thighs, Monica smiled at Cassie encouragingly, stood up, and stepped behind the slave girl. "Go ahead and get her front, I'll do the back." she said as she smiled a clever hidden smile once Cassie's view of her face was occluded by the slave's body.

Cassie was flummoxed. She really didn't want to fondle her friend's privates here, outdoors, in public. But Monica was right, she needed to protect Charlotte from harm, and that's what she was going to do. She looked up at Charlotte's face to see how she felt about the situation, but the stiff leather collar didn't permit the slave to look down and see what was going on below. Hesitantly, Cassie splooged some lotion on her palm and began applying it with quick, choppy strokes to the slave's exposed mons. It was completely and utterly devoid of hair, obviously waxed. Cassie remembered Charlotte telling her that her mom had insisted on a full-on, total waxing before her slave grading, but this was the first time she had seen visual proof of it. It was stunning, degrading, and intensely sexualized her vagina by completely exposing it the view of... absolutely fucking everyone.

Monica peeked to see what was happening in the front of the slave. She giggled, it was so deliciously awkward for both girls. She was having so much fun playing with these two. The slave was standing obediently with her hands bound behind her back and her feet shoulder width apart. The position of her arms forced her perky B-cup breasts straight out and her nipples were clearly crinkling with arousal while her face and chest blushed furiously with a combination of excitement and embarrassment. Monica knew that these two girls had a history of sexual experimentation, although Monica doubted that either of them was solely attracted to women. Which was good, because actual lesbians generally made for terrible ponies unless they were working at a ranch that catered exclusively their orientation. Monica knew of only one such establishment. During her recruiting interview with the Charlotte, Monica made sure to ask detailed questions about her sexual history. She knew that the girl had experimented with her "best friend" when she was younger, before they discovered how to date boys. And lo and behold -- her best friend had driven her here. It was time to rekindle someone's interest is sapphic pleasure. Perhaps even two someone's. The thought made her smile. Although Monica was herself mostly heterosexual and happily married, she understood that the only true aphrodisiac was power. And when she had power over a free woman, she USED it. Usually that meant maneuvering weekend FINO ponies into servicing her before giving their clothes back. It usually worked, and she had seen the faces of many attractive free women who would never normally consider servicing another woman between her thighs. Now she had a slave AND a free woman to play with at the same time, and she planned to make use of the opportunity.

"Cassie," she said in her best mentoring-instructor tone of voice, "that's not how to do it, you look like you're punished her by slapping her kitty. Here, let me show you. Watch what I do."

She then slipped a hand around to the slave's side and leaned up against her, placing her feet on either side of the pony's left foot. She leaned in and made full body contact, with the girl's shoulder firmly lodged between her own generous breasts. She then put her right arm around the furiously-blushing girl's waist, locking her in place.

"See this, Cassie?" Monica continued, "This is how you hold a girl in place for her reward. You see, ponies work hard to pleasure humans all day long, and they need to be rewarded for being good girls. This slave has been a very good girl today, and she deserves a reward. She delivered herself to me right on time. The easiest and best way to reward good ponies is to do it while lotioning them. It doesn't take any extra time at all because you have to lotion them anyhow, so we might as well do two things at once. It's easier when they have a harness on, but this will do just fine. Now, take up the same position on the other side of her... yes, exactly like that. You'll see why we're holding her in place like this in a bit. Good, now start tweaking her nipples, I know that you know how to do that, you have your own nipples to play with, so you have to know how to do it right."

"Perfect," Monica crooned, "now watch what I do next, it's time for this pony's reward."

With that, she ran her left hand down the slave's toned, teenage stomach, through the puddle of inexpertly applied lotion on her mons, and smoothly slid her three longest and strongest fingers into her vagina. One finger on the left, one on the right... and one straight down the middle. The pony's hips immediately pushed forward as if she had been poked in the rear with an electric prod. But this electricity wasn't coming from behind her, and she wasn't trying to escape from it. It was coming from her clit, and she was pushing into it, seeking more of what her Boss was giving her. Monica slowly began to move her slippery fingers up and down, left and right, applying pressure just so. She was an expert. She had pleasured hundreds of pony girls over the years, and she had her own vagina. She knew exactly how pussies worked and she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn't an untrained teenage girl fumbling in the dark while giggling madly and stifling her moans so they wouldn't be caught. Monica was an expert, she was a professional, and by the seventh or eighth time her middle finger popped across the slave's throbbing and erect clit... the girl exploded.

First her hips went from slow and sensual pulsing to violent, hammering thrusts. Her breath went from deep passionate breathing to hard gasps, and her quiet moans exploded into a wild whinnying scream as she violently bucked her hips and completely lost control of her legs, which turned to jelly and began to collapse. But instead of letting her fall to the ground, the women on either side of her pressed together and kept the spasming girl upright as she thrashed her way through the first of many orgasms of her slavery adventure.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Earning Gas Money

-=-=-=-=-=-

Charlotte couldn't believe that she had just done that. There was no romance, there were no flowers, there was no privacy. Everything that she had been taught that she needed for sexual pleasure was utterly absent. Was she wrong? Had she been wrong all along? Was it true that there really were some girls who had a "calling for the collar"? Was she one of them?

As Charlotte was struggling to catch her breath and regain her physical and emotional equilibrium, Cassie was in shock herself. She had just pleasured her freshly-enslaved best friend right here, out in the open. Cars were whizzing past, trucks were idling in the parking lot behind them, it was all so surreal. Cassie and Charlotte had always been best friends, almost as long as she could remember. Other girls joined and exited their friend group, but the two of them were always the inseparable core. Cassie had always been the leader and protector, Charlotte had always been the supportive, empathic creamy filling who propped up everyone on their best and worst days. And now, on the most vulnerable and traumatic day of Charlotte's life, Cassie betrayed her by masturbating her in public.

Monica watched the storm of guilt cross the younger woman's face and decided to head it off at the pass. "See that, Cassie?" she told her, "she liked it, she needed that. Slaves don't have choices in regard to sexual contact, so when someone is kind to them and gives them an orgasm for good behavior, it really helps them. This slave is having a tough time right now, she was a free woman just a bit ago and now she's a slave. But you made things better, you helped her by giving her an orgasm. That's helpful, that's good, that's the act of a true friend, don't you think?"

Cassie really didn't know what to think and she couldn't ask her friend Charlotte. Charlotte couldn't speak right now, and not just because of the collar. Cassie gazed deeply into her friend's face, noting the rapid breathing, the hooded and unfocused eyes, the distant expression. She certainly didn't look traumatized. Maybe what Cassie had done wasn't such a terrible thing after all?

"Good, look at her face, you can see that we haven't harmed her at all. We've helped her. Now it's your turn," Monica told her as she slipped her fingers over Cassie's and pressed them back down over the pony's mons. "There you go," she crooned, "that's it, slide in from the top, just like you're doing... you have a vagina, too. You know how pussies work, you know how to pleasure one."

Together, the two women working in unison soon had the panting girl thrashing her way through a second orgasm.

"That's a good sign," Monica told Cassie. "She's multi-orgasmic. She'll make an excellent pony. She's going to be having a lot of sex over the next two years, and the more she enjoys it, the better off she will be. Can you see that? We're helping her adjust to her enslavement and helping her see that everything is going to be okay. It's not just the physical release that she needed but the release from mental stress and worries. Slave ponies have responsibilities, that's true, but the vast majority of the responsibilities and stressors that YOU will be facing over the next two years will be completely absent from her life. We like to keep our ponies happy at the Double H, and I have a feeling that this will soon be a very happy and well-adjusted pony girl."

"Now," she continued, "Let's see if we can continue with the sunblock. Slave, can you stand on your own now, or do you need more time to recover?"

The slave shook her head 'yes', then 'no' and straightened up a bit. She was still a little wobbly from the forced double-orgasm, but had to admit to herself that it was undoubtedly the most sexually explosive event in her young life. If pony life was like this every day, then maybe the next two years wouldn't be so bad after all?

Monica and Cassie returned to their task. While Cassie was carefully and gently lotioning Charlotte's face, she whispered, "Are you sure you're going to be okay, honey?"

The slave nodded tentatively, then gave her a wan smile and nodded more vigorously. She still wasn't sure how it was going to work out, but she didn't want her friend worrying about her. She was going to be all right. She was going to see it through and come out the other side stronger and richer than before.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bert and Ernesto

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Once the lotioning was finished, Monica took up the slave's leash again and began leading her out of the hygiene corral. Cassie began to follow and immediately noticed that they had attracted an audience. The same pair of truckers from before were standing at the fence by the gate, grinning at them. It gave Cassie quite a shock to see them there, even though she knew that their activities must have been observed. Given the number of trucks in the lot, it was inevitable.

The two men were leaning against the fence in the classic playground pose with their fingers hooked in the wire mesh above their heads. The one on the left was a beefy redneck type around the age of 40 with a fresh crew cut that emphasized the greasy folds on his neck. He was leering lasciviously at the naked girl, displaying his yellowed, tobacco-stained teeth. Next to him was a younger, shorter Latino man with a surprisingly attractive face and an oddly sympathetic smile.

As the three women approached the duo, the fat redneck waggled a folded bill through the fence and said, "Hey there honeys, seems like you got a hot little piece of slave meat there. How's about I give you ten bucks gas money and you can have her suck me and my partner off?"

Cassie was outraged. They had already told him "No"! Her friend Charlotte was NOT a five-dollar whore! How DARE he...

"Make it twenty for each of you and you've got a deal," responded Monica without missing a beat. In direct contrast to Cassie's instinctive fury, she sounded almost bored, as though she were a grocer informing a random shopper that potatoes were $1.89 a pound, not $1.79 a pound.

Cassie was startled by this blasé attitude toward bartering sexual services, causing her to hesitate half a step. Consequently, she fell slightly behind the other two women while Monica continued to stride confidently toward the two men, dragging the suddenly reluctant slave girl behind her. She hadn't missed a step. This was totally normal for her. For her, bartering for a young woman's virtue was no different from selling a sack of potatoes.

Apparently, Cassie's friend Charlotte was in fact a whore now. A slave whore, a $20 slave whore, and not a $5 slave whore, but still a slave whore. Cassie's world view took another tumble. This sort of thing just didn't happen to girls she knew. It didn't happen in comfortable upper middle-class suburbs, it happened.... elsewhere? She didn't know WHERE is happened, she just knew that it happened somewhere else. Either that, or people just didn't talk about it? Could that be the case? Maybe she had just been turning a blind eye to this entire business of slavery her whole life? Sure, naked and leashed slaves were a fact of life. Cassie had seen them at the mall, in restaurants, at the beach and even the community pool. But she never really stopped to consider where these girls came from. Or if she did, she assumed that they were from "elsewhere".

On the other hand, there was a guy in her class who made a website to track girls from their school district who had ended up in a collar. She needed to get to the bottom of this and find out how many girls like Charlotte from outwardly comfortable middle-class homes were being lured into slavery by recruiters like Monica.

The hygiene corral had a narrow entrance that only allowed passage by one person at a time. Cassie, already lagging a bit, fell in behind the other two as Monica pulled the leashed slave through the gate.

The fat redneck's grin had somehow become even broader as they approached. He reached out and squeezed Charlotte's tit hard. It must have hurt, because the girl let out a pained gasp. If something like that had ever happened to Charlotte in any other circumstance, Cassie would have rushed furiously to her aid. But she couldn't. She wanted to... but she couldn't. The rage and the desire were there, but Cassie held back. Charlotte was a slave now and pinching and groping were daily facts of life for slave girls. What had been an unthinkable assault - only minutes ago when Charlotte was a free woman - had suddenly become the slave girl's new normal. It tore at Cassie's heart. But she had to accept that Charlotte was a slave who should be treated this way. Not because Charlotte was bad, but simply because she was a slave.

"Tell you what," the redneck said, "we'll give you $15 each. Lemme take her back to my truck and then when she's done, Ernesto can have his shot, how does that sound? My name's Bert, by the way."

"No, I have a better idea, Bert," Monica told him calmly as she walked past without turning her head, without pausing, or otherwise noticing on the brutal pinch.

"We'll go to that picnic table over there on the end. The windbreak will give you privacy from anyone in the car parking lot and the buildings over there. It's what we normally use here. My boss paid a lot of money for this girl and I'm not letting her out of my sight."

"Huh, all right. I've seen that done before, I guess it's all right. As long as you don't do it in front of the tourists, nobody will mind. Let's get this little hottie on her knees where she belongs. Too bad you don't have more time, I'd love to try out that tight little coochie of hers," he continued as he cheerfully slapped the slave's ass on the way across the parking lot. "Nice tight little ass, too. You got a buyer in mind?"

"She'll be auctioned off later today at the Pony Rancher's Association's quarterly auction. I work for the HH Ranch and we're planning on buying her and putting her to work as a pleasure pony."

"A 'pleasure pony', huh? Isn't that for old skanks so ugly that you need to put a bag over their heads and make 'em pull wagons or something?"

"No, although some people think that. The HH Ranch is a high-class establishment, catering to wealthy clientele, they expect better quality. So it's worth our while to purchase a higher grade of slave for our herd. This one is perfect, she's young, athletic, and attractive. We'll be able to keep her busy servicing clients all year long."

Following behind the group, Cassie couldn't help but notice that Monica had used the word "servicing" instead of "serving". Charlotte wasn't going to be a servant; she was going to be a whore.

While they were talking, the group reached the covered picnic area. The table that they went to, like the others, was supported by an L-shaped wall that provided a windbreak against the prevailing western and northern winds. That was an important design feature on this windswept prairie location. Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps by design, the abbreviated wall also provided a small measure of protection from prying eyes. A person sitting in the leftmost seat was entirely concealed from the car lot and the rest stop buildings.

Wasting no time, Bert quickly dropped his greasy jeans down around his ankles and plopped his fat, hairy, pimply ass down on the seat. Truck driving is a sedentary job and truck drivers generally survived almost entirely on fast food. Everything about his body testified to that, whether he wanted it to or not.

"Gitcher little mouth on this cock, slave cunt," he demanded.

"Money first," Monica responded, tightening her grip on the leash to hold the frightened slave girl in place.

"Right, right, here ya go." He handed her a five and a ten. Cassie was surprised when Monica turned and immediately handed her the money.

"Hold this, I'll handle the slave, you keep watch."

So there Cassie was, holding the money. The money that had been paid for the sexual services of her best friend. She was complicit, she was a part of this. She was whoring out her best friend so that Monica could have some extra gas money.

Cassie felt like a betrayer. Charlotte asked her for a favor last night without telling her what the favor was. Whatever it was, whatever she needed, Cassie would be there for her. She told her that. The painful stress in her friend's voice was almost too much for to bear. So, sight unseen, Cassie agreed. She had always been Charlotte's loyal friend. And now, here she was, participating in the degradation and whoring of that very same friend. She felt terrible.

"Rag?"

"Huh? Cassie looked down at Monica's outstretched hand, confused.

"The rag, give me the rag. We just talked about this, we need to keep the slaves unmarked, they sell better that way. This concrete is really rough, so I'm going to use it as a padding for her knees."

"Oh, umm, sure" Cassie handed her the rag, which only minutes ago had been her best friend's t-shirt. Now it was just a rag, of course. Minutes ago it had covered Charlotte's modesty and made her look cute and fashionable. Now, though, it was just a dirty rag to be used to protect a nameless slave's knees from getting scraped on the rough pavement. Not for her own comfort; so that she retained her value to her owners, and so that her sexual services were easier to sell.