Milly's Tale Ch. 01

"Keep bringing your legs up! Don't slack off now!"

The trainer shouted at my partner, who had but a moment ago seemed to be faltering. I knew it was her first experience as a ponygirl - her skin was pale and had flushed, and beneath her restraints and gag I could see a rather pretty and delicate face. She was struggling to keep pace; her head keeled over forward, her straw-blonde hair draping over her face. Our hooves had but a moment ago been beating steadily against the packed earth underneath.

We'd been training for almost two hours, and the work was taking its toll on us. At the moment my partner and I were practicing pulling a carriage - from my perspective, a reprieve from the racing I usually trained in. I'd had much more experience with this sort of thing than my partner, so while the exercise was intense, it had not passed the boundaries of what I could handle - in fact, compared to racing, it was just a moderately strenuous activity. On the other hand, my inexperienced partner had been ready to collapse half an hour into the session.

The bonds of a ponygirl were probably frustrating to her. Heavy leather straps and buckles encircled my otherwise nude body. The restraints pinned my arms securely behind my back and the only concession made to my modesty was a strap running between my legs. A bit-gag in my mouth denied me the privilege of speech. I'd been training as a ponygirl for long enough now that I was used to it, but my partner was still struggling to lift her legs parallel to the ground with each step while wearing the heavy thigh-high pony boots, which forced the wearer onto her tiptoes. I also saw her arms struggling a bit against her bonds as she worked - while all slaves were accustomed to physical restraint, they didn't usually have to perform physical exertion while bound so strictly.

I slowed my gait to accommodate my partner's struggling. After a moment, she seemed to recollect herself. I could see her struggling to avoid collapsing on the spot.

"We're almost there! Keep going!"

The words were meant for my partner more than myself. After a minute, we crossed the finishing marker. Our trainer hopped off the carriage and walked up front.

"Good work, girls! You're done for today."

One of the stable hands rushed forward to unhitch my partner from the carriage. I watched as he almost carried her exhausted body away. On the other hand, I remained standing in place, still secured to the carriage, as the trainer approached me. Rather than release me from the carriage, she removed the bit-gag from my mouth. While most girls would spit at it was removed, I simply tilted my head back to drain out any saliva and avoid embarrassing myself.

"Alright, Milly. What did you think?" The trainer looked at me expectantly.

"Mistress Philena... could you unhitch me first? I'd prefer to talk inside."

"Of course, of course, what was I thinking? You'll have to forgive me."

Most slave girls would never talk in such a way, especially to their superior who was 15 years older, but I'd known Philena for long enough. She was neither my owner nor my master - in fact, she was a slave just like me. As she was in the position of training me, I addressed her as "Mistress". In fact even the free staff at the stable treated her with respect, as she had significant sway in the administration of the stables. To me, she was something between a friend and a senior.

Mistress Philena released me from the carriage, slapping my rump as she did so, and snapped a lead to the front of my harness. Mistress Philena held my lead loosely, allowing me to trot behind her. She didn't lead me into the stables where my partner had been taken - rather, she was walking me toward the administration building. It was a short walk - while Rufus Luxury Farms was located at the outskirts of Mercurius City, being so close to an urban environment limited the space available, and the stables weren't even 100 feet away from administration.

Being walked on a lead like this, I made sure to raise my thighs parallel to the ground with each step - unnecessary, but a tradition when trotting behind someone like this. The entire practice of using slaves as ponygirls was submerged heavily in tradition - technically speaking, it wasn't necessary to use slaves as such, as more efficient modes of transportation existed. Rather, the role of a ponygirl was one that was existed primarily for entertainment and as status symbols. A ponygirl-driven carriage was a marker of status for free people, and ponygirls used for racing were more trophies than anything else.

At this time in the afternoon, a few guests were present. None of them bothered to conceal their gazes, which was as expected - only someone totally unfamiliar with this sphere would bother to do so. My body was mostly nude, and it was very much their right to gaze upon. Even many slaves sometimes had trouble with this concept, especially those with masters who respected their modesty.

We are at the administration building soon enough. There weren't any guests here now. The girl at reception simply waved us by. Philena led me into her office, taking a seat in her chair. Rather than try to struggle into the guest chair, I remained standing, as with the boots on standing up from a chair would take some difficulty - and I wouldn't be comfortable as my arms were restrained behind me anyway. Besides just that... I hadn't bathed yet. If I sat down now, I'd probably soak the chair in sweat.

"So? What did you think?" She posed the question again. While vaguely worded, I already knew what exactly she was asking. Philena wanted to ask me about my partner from today. She'd been thrust upon me at the start of training today, and I'd been told she was interested in ponygirl training. While the opinion of a trainee like myself would normally never be sought, my relationship with Philena and the fact that I'd been training here for four years already granted me a voice.

"She has no stamina and no strength. No way she's going to make it."

Philena closed her eyes and sighed.

"That's not what I saw. She has potential."

"She barely made it fifteen minutes."

"Milly, she might have been struggling but wasn't she right there beside you in the end?"

"I did better on my first session."

She chuckled. "Not every girl was bred to be a ponygirl like you or me. We have the benefit of having been bred for generations for this thing. Mia's companion stock - she wanted to try this out herself, you know." The tattoos on our upper left arms signified this quite well - a simple logo with the stylized letters "R.H." in a circle. Rufus House - the name of the ponygirl-specialized breeder that had produced both of us. My physical features reflected that breeding. My skin tanned without burning, and my thigh muscles were visibly developed. I kept my black hair cut short for convenience.

"I can tell she's companion stock. Why would she want to come here?" It was my first time hearing even her name. We'd already had our tack on, including bit-gag, when we were introduced. While I'd spent the last two hours with her, we hadn't been able to exchange a word.

That she was companion stock was obvious. The whole training session she'd looked embarrassed, and while I wasn't obtuse enough to not understand why, this made the reason clear. Despite being property herself, she probably wasn't accustomed to her body being on display for others to gawk at. Her owner probably let her dress in whatever she wanted most of the time and allowed her to wear modest clothing in public, preferring to keep her body for his own personal viewing.

"You're so prideful, Milly."

"Are you so desperate that you need companion stock to pad your numbers?" It was a light-hearted jab. There wasn't a shortage of ponygirls, so if they were willing to take on companion stock, they must actually see some value in training her.

"Why not give her a chance? Just because she wasn't bred for this doesn't mean she shouldn't get a chance to try different things. Who knows, if she keeps at it she may even surpass you!"

I scoffed. Philena closed her eyes and sighed again at my response. Then, she changed the subject.

"There's only a month left before you graduate. Are you sure you're ready?" She was referring to the signing process for taking on long-term ponygirls. I'd turned 18 three months ago, meaning that I was eligible to become a full-time ponygirl as soon as I'd finished school.

"It's not like I don't know what I'm getting into, you know. And in any case, I've made my choice."

"Technically, you haven't. You could still change your mind, you know. If you wanted to, you could be a companion, or even work for the police. You're pretty and strong; neither of those are out of reach for you."

"You're kidding, right? No way I'd be a companion girl. It sounds like a total bore to sit around in a home and look pretty. The only question at this point is who I sign up with."

Philena shrugged. "Well, this is the life I chose too, and I certainly don't regret it. I suppose I shouldn't be trying to dissuade you. Not all of us have that choice, though. It would behoove you to at least consider other possibilities."

"I'll take it under advisement." That more or less put an end to the conversation.

"Well, in any case, let's get you out of that harness and washed up." Philena popped her head out of her office and flagged down a stablehand to take me to get washed.

---

Rather than just taking a shower, I was cleaned by the stablehands. Usually trainees would be permitted to shower themselves after having their tack removed, but Philena wanted me to get as close to the authentic ponygirl experience as possible.

As my tack was removed, my hands were swiftly maneuvered into the cuffs above my head which were hanging from the ceiling, drawing me out to my full height while allowing my heels to touch the floor. The stable hands had been instructed to handle this just like a regular ponygirl cleaning. A low-power sprinkler hose was used to wet me in the first place. Then, two of the stable hands moved forward to thoroughly wash me, both shirtless.

One of them was much younger than the other. Their approaches indicated well how much experience they had. The older one, who I knew as Mason, moved confidently. The younger one - who seemed my age - seemed almost embarrassed by my nudity. He wasn't familiar - probably a new hire. Their hands moved all over my body, lathering me up. The younger one tried to skirt away from my breasts and intimates, while the older one firmly scrubbed all over me.

Mason turned to the boy. "Jack, come on. We need to get her clean." I caught the glint in his eye. Mason had always been a mischievous one. I knew what he had in mind.

Looking Jack square in the eyes, I swayed my hips and fluttered my lashes. I knew the effect my body would have on him. Mason scrubbed my breasts vigorously. I exaggerated my response a little, grimacing in response to the stimulation. The bulge in Jack's pants was easy to spot.

Mason pushed him toward me, and with the little slack I had, I moved toward him.

"You clean her... like this."

He grabbed Jack's wrist and pulled it between my legs, firmly scrubbing at my sex by proxy. This time, I didn't have to exaggerate my response. Grabbed by an impulse, I leaned in to kiss him.

I opened my eyes, greeted by the sight of Jack's blushed cheeks. As I pulled away, I was reminded that Mason was still there.

"Hey, hold off on that for a moment. We've got to get you clean first."

Mason rinsed me off with the hose again. Then, his hands moved up to my wrists and released them from the cuffs, freeing them for the first time since training began. I didn't waste a moment - I fell to my knees, grabbing at Jack's crotch. It didn't take much fumbling to pull his shaft from his pants.

His hand lay on the back of my head as I took him into my mouth. His scent flooded my nostrils. I heard him groan as I ran my tongue down his member. I traced a pattern across it.

After a moment, I took him in fully. His penis was average-sized, and as I'd had some experience, I managed to get my lips to his crotch. I alternated between licking his head and running my hands down the shaft and taking him in fully.

After a few minutes, I felt a pulse across his shaft. Absorbed in the heat of the moment, neither of us realized until it was too late. I tried to get clear, and ended up with his seed all over my face.

Both of us lay on the floor, panting. I stuck my tongue out Jack. "You know, you were supposed to get me clean..."

I ran away before he could respond, leaving Mason behind me, facepalming. I could wash this much off on my own at the sink.

---

Having donned my school uniform again for the trip back home, I waited outside the bathhouse to be sent off. It was only 6 PM - slave girls were released from school at 2 so they could have time to train while the sun was still up.

The school I went to - Ashford Academy - was not a slave-specific school, but rather a school that accepted both slave and free students. My owner was wealthy enough and, similarly to Philena, wanted to "diversify my experiences" - in fact, he might have made the suggestion to her to bring up that topic in the first place. There was another reason for my attending this school - and that was Alexis.

The uniform consisted of a sailor-style outfit - black, with red accents. It was actually a size small - my owner had made that decision as a means by which to keep his property on display. I had to keep my sleeves rolled up, as Ashford Academy's rules required that a slave student's breeder tattoo could not be covered. The skirt was particularly short, fully exposing my thighs despite the fact that the waistband was visible under my top - again an intentional decision; my master had also specified that I wear knee-length socks, so as to keep my well-defined thighs visible. It wasn't something I had a problem with, and it was summer now anyway. Luckily, it wasn't particularly windy either. Wearing the harness meant that I couldn't defend my modesty against even the slightest gust of wind.

Exposing myself had paid off, after all. Four different stables were offering to take me on as soon as I graduated, and the fact that my physical traits were visible to recruiters was a factor in it. Or maybe not... as I was ponygirl stock, I would probably have been scouted anyway. There was a time that I resented not being able to wear a longer skirt, but I'd outgrown those feelings.

Mistress Philena or another employee would have to release me to be sent home via Mercurius City's slave transit system. Slaves couldn't be allowed to simply wander around without an autonomy license, and it would be an inconvenience to force masters to transport slaves themselves, so Mercurius City had worked out a robust integration into the public transportation system for slaves that allowed them to be shepherded to their destination. I didn't have to wait very long before she came to prepare me.

Philena strapped me into the transit harness - a thick leather band which wrapped around my waist and secured my hands behind my back. My school bag was secured to the harness, and Philena checked the stabilization gem in my collar - very important during ponygirl training, preventing me from being injured if I tripped during training. It would slow my fall and bring me to a gentle rest on the ground. This device was commonly used for slaves that needed to be able to move around while restrained.

Finally, she input my destination to the tablet screen on the front of my transit harness. I was sent off with a wave.

Outside the training compound, a guiding rail was laid down the walking path. If I strayed more than 20 feet from it or failed to continue walking along it at the expected rate, my collar's tracking beacon would activate and ping the police. Because of this fact, slaves in transit were not common targets for criminals. The walking path here was not densely populated, and there was only a general store across the street, with trees surrounding it across the street from the walls of Rufus Farms. The silhouette of Mercurius City's skyline was not visible from here - it was a relatively small metropolitan center, and only a few buildings would be tall enough to be visible from this distance.

These measures were not meant to treat slaves like dangerous animals. Rather, they were meant to maintain accountability. It would be ridiculous to allow slaves to simply wander around as they pleased, and the slave transit system was meant to ensure that masters could always feel secure knowing that their slave was accounted for while also relieving from them the burden of having to micromanage their slave's whereabouts in person. It was not that slaves weren't trusted, but rather that it was better if they didn't have to be.

Next, I'd simply walk to the nearest bus stop and be picked up there. The driver would be informed by the bus' computation system where I needed to be released, and from there I could walk home along the guide rails. I'd be home in half an hour.

I started walking - Mistress Alexis would be upset if I wasn't home by dinnertime.