Charlotte's Arrival

While she was talking, Monica began leading the hobbled pony toward her truck. Cassie realized that she was watching her good friend Charlotte slipping away from her.

"Umm, yeah, I have a couple of questions," she began while following pair. "How did you know that guy used to be a slave? Is he gay, is that why he knows so much about giving blow jobs?"

"Former slaves have tells, it's just like in poker, Monica informed her. "No matter how much you try to hide it, a slaver can always tell that you're an ex-slave. So can former slaves. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it's obvious, especially if they haven't been free for very long. That last guy was obvious because of the sparse pubic hair. Other times it might be the tan lines. No matter how much you lotion them, naked ponies out in the hot sun all day are going to develop a very distinctive set of diamond shaped tan lines. Also, of course, the completely white neck will contrast as well."

"Other times," she continued, "it might be more subtle, posture or expression. See this collar? It's a posture collar, it protects the entire throat from the collar bones to the chin. After wearing this for two years, this slave here will probably hold her head and neck erect for the rest of her life. So yeah, it's more instinct than anything else. Regular folks might not spot it, but a slaver or a slave will almost always know. It's one of the reasons why it's really hard for people to hide the fact that they're former slaves. Another thing you should know is that we put our slaves' profiles - with pictures - on the HH Ranch website. The URL is on my card. You can look this slave up next week and see her there if you want to check in on her and see how she's doing."

"In answer to your other question, no. He's not gay. Slaves don't have sexual preferences. What slaves want doesn't matter. Only owners' and clients' preferences matter. So, if a gay man prefers smooth young Tejano boys and I have such a slave in my herd, they're going to have sex. All the slave can do is get as much enjoyment out of it as he can. We always have a few boys in our herd for that kind of thing. Other ranches specialize in it."

"We have a saying. A slave is not heterosexual OR homosexual, their sexual orientation is 'slave'. During his indenture, Ernesto's sexual orientation was 'slave', now it seems to be heterosexual. That's just how it is. This slave is probably bisexual or something like that. It doesn't really matter; she's a good girl and she'll lick or suck whatever she is told. We've already seen that."

The trio finally reached the blue truck with the HH brand on the side. Monica turned the slave so that she was facing both free women and addressed her directly. "Slave, did you enjoy it when two women frigged you to an orgasm?"

The slave nodded.

"You did, didn't you?" Monica continued. "Does that mean you're gay?"

The slave girl shook her head.

"No, it does not, continued Boss Monica. "It means that you were a horny slave who got rewarded for being a good girl. Did you enjoy sucking Ernesto's cock? You did, didn't you? Does that mean you're NOT gay? No, it doesn't. It just means that you were ordered to pleasure a man who happened to be kind and considerate and it was fun."

Monica turned back to Cassie. "So, you see that, Cassie? That's slavery in a nutshell. Good girls get rewarded, bad girls get punished, and every slave needs to enjoy the good things that come their way while minimizing the bad."

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

Thirty Pieces of Silver

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

Cassie nodded. It was out of her hands now. It really hadn't ever been IN her hands. This was Charlotte's destiny, she had chosen it herself. She was going to be a slave for the next two years and she would have whatever form of sex she was commanded with to have with whomever she was told to. That was how slavery worked, and there was nothing that Cassie could do about it.

At least her new owners weren't depraved, sadistic monsters. Cassie knew for a fact that such slavers existed. But Boss Monica appeared to be genuinely concerned about the well-being of her "livestock". She might consider Charlotte an animal, but she was still a valuable animal, to be protected to the extent possible. That was probably the best that Cassie -- and Charlotte -- could hope for.

Boss Monica watched her nod. "All right then, I'll just load up my property and get going. Call me when you decide what you want to do about the job. I was serious about that. I think you've got what it takes. Not everyone can understand that slaves, no matter how much we might empathize with them, need to be treated like slaves."

Cassie hesitated, taking one last look at her friend, then turned away. She reached into her pocket for her key fob, then realized, "Oh, umm, Ms. Monica?" she said. "I have your thirty dollars here."

"Keep it, it's yours. You helped me gentle this slave and made things easier for me. I appreciate that, you've earned it. Good luck."

Emotionally numb, Cassie watched as the woman bundled her former best friend into the truck, secured her, and pulled out. The thirty pieces of silver burned in her hand. Cassie had just sold her best friend into slavery, then pimped her for gas money.

She stood there, breathing raggedly for the seemingly endless amount of time that it took for the truck to vanish into the traffic heading south.

Finally, the truck with Charlotte in it was gone. Cassie returned to her car and opened the door. There she hesitated again, staring at the car seat. The last time she sat in this car seat, Charlotte was a free woman. She was frightened, she was desperate, but she wasn't alone. Cassie had her back. Now Charlotte no longer existed. Only "slave 1234", or whatever they were calling her now, existed.

Cassie's life needed to go on. She sat down, then reached into one of the boxes in the back seat and pulled out Mr. Monkey. She put him in the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt for him, in much the same way that Boss Monica had just buckled Charlotte's seat belt. Mr. Monkey couldn't take care of himself. Someone else needed to do it for him. Human ponies weren't able to take care of themselves, either. They needed someone else to do that for them. That's what free people were for. Cassie nodded to herself, looking down at Mr. Monkey.

"Mr. Monkey," she said, "I'm going to take the job. I'm going to take care of human ponies, because they can't take care of themselves. And two years from now, Charlotte will come back for you. In the meantime, you and I are going to have adventures together and we'll tell Charlotte all about them when she comes back to us, deal?"

Cassie patted him on the head, looked both ways, and then pulled out carefully. She had thirty bucks burning a hole in her pocket. It was enough for a tank of gas and a burrito. She would be home in time for lunch, but she was hungry now.