The Stallion - Bachelorette Party Part 4

[ZeeChromosome]

Note: Advised and edited by Mr. Smith and Carl Bradford.

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Part Four
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Author's note: Parts 1 and 2 were almost entirely debauchery. Part 3 was mainly plot, with a bit of debauchery thrown in. Part 4 will be mainly plot again, with a gratuitous spanking. Looks like we’re going to have a Part 5 after all.

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Harriette continued on her way toward the HH Ranch's main building, thinking deeply. She needed to find out what her youngest sister was up to. The thought brought a frown to her face.

Gwen had always been willful child, but she always had a reason for what she was doing. Even when she was very small, simply telling her what to do from a position of authority only made her dig in her heels more. If you wanted to get her to do something, you had to sit her down and talk to her and convince her that you were right. Fortunately, even when angry and being stubborn about it, she was usually willing to listen to other opinions. But only as long as she felt that (or as if) she was being heard. So that's what Harriette needed to do now. She needed to listen to Gwen and then explain to her why she was wrong - if she was wrong. Harriette hadn't heard her side of the story yet, she only had Clarissa and Chantelle's suspicions to go on.

In the kitchen area of Harriette's apartment, Gwen was talking when she saw the two slave girls freeze in place with their snacks partway to their mouths. They heard Mistress Harriette climbing the stairs in her high-heeled cowgirl boots. One moment they had been giggling and smiling at Gwen's stories about college life, and the next moment they froze like deer caught in a hunter's spotlight. Both started to put the remnants of their treats on their plates, but Sparrow changed her mind and quickly stuffed hers in her mouth. Meadowlark followed suit. Neither one of them considered that they had smears of chocolate and vanilla ice cream on their fingers and around their mouths. Or that Gwen continued to hold her half-eaten sandwich in front of her. Or the fact that there were three empty wrappers on the table.

Entering the kitchen, Harriette discovered the three girls wearing matching towel turbans. Harriette had no objection to Gwen rewarding obedient slaves. But one of these slaves had been DIS-obedient, and that would have to be dealt with later.

In the meantime, though, she needed to talk to Gwen. "I see that the two of you have finished your treats," she addressed her two slaves, "now go dry and brush your hair." She then sat at the table and looked at Gwen silently.

Gwen swallowed the bite of sandwich in her mouth.

Harriette folded her hands and stared at her.

Gwen took another bite.

Harriette chuckled softly. "So that's how it's going to be," she thought. Out loud she asked in her most motherly tone of voice, "Are you all right? Do you need to talk about it?"

Gwen nodded her head slowly, still swirling the bit of melting ice cream in her mouth. Then she shook her head.

"All right," Harriette replied as she stood up. "I'm going to go take a shower and get ready for bed now. But we will talk about this before you leave. Maybe you should sleep on it and we can talk in the morning. You are not getting preferential access to one of my stallions... at all... ever."

Gwen abruptly scowled and swallowed her ice cream. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked angrily.

"It means that, although I love you, I'm not going to be giving you preferential treatment. If you want to see Hammer in the future, you'll do it like every other woman does - by going to the racetrack and watching him race. If you want more than that, then you'll have to do what every other woman has to do, you'll place your bet at the betting booth and hope you win. If you win, you'll win exactly what any other woman would have won - the right to be bent over a breeding bench and anonymously fucked by a man who doesn't know or even care who you are. If that's what you want, I can't stop you. I'm just warning you in advance, Hammer's been getting a lot of positive attention lately and you'll find that you're going to be spending a lot of money with little to show for it. Also, don't think he'll spot your Bellefleur brand. We can easily cover that up with a bit of spray tan and we will."

Gwen sighed. She looked down. She looked to the side. She stuck her fingers under the rim of her towel turban and scratched an itch. Then she removed the towel and flipped her damp hair onto her back. She folded the towel and placed it on her lap.

Harriette watched Gwen go through her delaying tactics. She always fidgeted when caught. Harriette waited until she stopped fidgeting, folded her hands in her lap, and gave Harriette a calm look.

"Can we talk about this at breakfast? I have a lot to think about tonight and I'll be better prepared mentally in the morning. Also, can you turn the girls' speech conversion collars off? I'd like to have someone to talk to tonight. Someone who can talk back. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to need someone to talk to and they've been muted by a stupid slave collar?"

"All right, that's what we'll do. But you're not leaving here without talking to me. Remember, I own Hammer, I don't have to share him with you or anyone else. Finish your snack and order dinner for the four of us, we'll eat it here at the table. I'll have the veal tenderloin and baby asparagus."

Half an hour later, Harriette re-entered the kitchen to find the three girls sitting at the table watching music videos on the wall-mounted television. Harriette's luxurious floor-length silk robe set contrasted with the nudity of the two slaves and Gwen's short terrycloth robe. The dumbwaiter beside the television dinged and its indicator light turned green. "Perfect timing," she said. "Gwen, please take the girls to the guest bedroom. There should be some nightgowns in the wardrobe there. I would like for the three of you to dress for dinner. I'll set out the plates."

The three girls soon returned wearing matching cotton nightgowns and robes. For Meadowlark and Sparrow, it was the first time that they had worn real clothing in the past six months. While getting dressed, they smiled at each other and did little twirls to make the short nightgowns flare out. Gwen giggled at their antics. She didn't find any panties in the drawers, so she just decided to go commando. After all, both of the other girls already were. As long as the three of them didn't bend over, their bare pussy lips would remain almost covered.

"Remember," she told them conspirationally, "don't say anything to Harriette about the things we, or rather, I talked about. Everything that happens up here is private. Okay?"

The two slave girls nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

Dinner was awkward. Before Harriette's arrival, Gwen had been full of lively stories about college when she was sitting with the two muted slave girls. But now that she was sitting across from Harriette, she didn't have much to say.

Harriette decided to get the conversation flowing. "Meadowlark, Sparrow, I want the two of you to understand something. I'm sure Gwen has already mentioned it to you, but everything that happens here in my private apartment is just that... it's private. Out there on the ranch, I need to appear harsh and unforgiving. I'm sure both of you think I'm some kind of intimidating monster, and that's fine. You're supposed to view me that way. So are the free people I employ. But in here, I can show you girls a softer side of myself than I can out there. That's why I didn't say anything about the ice cream treats and also why I have dressed both of you in comfy nightgowns. Do you like them?"

Both girls nodded eagerly with their mouths full of delicious food. Their normal diet consisted of bland ponygirl chow for breakfast and lunch, sometimes with a bit of fruit. They normally ate dinner in the cafeteria, where they were served bland cafeteria food. This food, on the other hand, had been cooked in the Ranch restaurant kitchen. It was real human food. Nobody wasted spices on mere livestock and their taste buds were jumping with joy. When the two of them had first followed Mistress Gwen into the hidden doorway, they had been very nervous, but now it looked like things were going great. They were wearing real nightgowns and eating real food! Both smiled happily at Mistress Harriette and she smiled back at them with true fondness. It was so different from the stern and unforgiving façade that she normally showed the world.

For Meadowlark, whose mother had harshly denounced her for "selling yourself for a harlot", it was especially heart-warming. In the six months since the beginning of her indenture, her mother had only visited once. The meeting hadn't gone well, mainly because her mother had only visited Meadowlark to berate her for locking up her sale price into a trust fund. The same trust also contained the money that Harriette deposited each month onto her peculium. Was Meadowlark a whore? She was. Not legally, of course, because selling the sexual services of slaves was perfectly legal. But in every moral sense of the word, Meadowlark was a fallen woman who had sold the use of her body for two years in order to earn money for college.

Isolated from her family and wholly under Mistress Harriette's control, Meadowlark's neglected heart soared at the simple act of kindness.

"Good," Harriette continued, "I really do want you girls to be happy and to enjoy your time here with me. You're both good girls and good girls deserve rewards. I can't show favoritism outside where people can see, but I can treat you to nice things in here, where things are private."

Then Harriette's face suddenly turned very stern, "Let's not muck that up, shall we? I don't want to hear any gossip or bragging from you two in the barracks. If anyone asks questions, tell them that you are sworn to secrecy and that if they really want to know, they can come ask me themselves. How does that sound?"

Sparrow swallowed the delicious food in her mouth and nodded slowly. "Mistress Harriette, I promise that if anyone asks us any questions at all, Meadowlark and I will let them know that you are VERY eager to discuss the matter with them directly."

Harriette chuckled. It wasn't a friendly sound. She then turned her attention toward her little sister. "Perfect," she said, "Gwen, have you seen Jeb lately? I noticed that he decided to drive instead of fly home for Christmas break, do you know the reason for that? He's been very secretive recently."

Pleased that Harriette wasn't going to ask her any more prying questions about herself, Gwen answered. "Yes, he's been working out a deal with the school to buy students who default on their tuition and loan payments. So, I think he's driving down with some merchandise to sell. They have a new Big D branch in Boston now, so that's where he usually goes, but for some girls he feels like he can get a better price here in Texas."

Sparrow raised her hand meekly, like a small child in class.

Gwen looked at her with a reassuring smile, "It's okay honey, you can ask a question."

"Umm, I thought that they were all abolitionists in the North?" she asked meekly.

"Yes and no," Gwen replied. "There are a lot of abolitionists, but you would be surprised how many of them practice slavery in secret. And when they do, it's always dressed up in terms like," here her tone of voice took on a high-minded and supercilious air, "'I stepped in and rescued her from a terrible fate and treat her like a beloved younger relative' and so on. In reality, they're getting just as much sexual use out of Northern slaves as anyone else. The university is probably the biggest offender. Not only are the faculty some of the loudest abolitionist voices in the media, they're also into some kinky sex and extremely enthusiastic about enslaving their students whenever possible."

Gwen looked up at Harriette and addressed the next statement to her. "That's where Jeb comes in. The administration doesn't want to be seen getting their hands dirty. Since Jeb is a nationally certified slave handler, they have him do the actual enslaving. He takes them to the Big D’s Boston location, gets them chipped and graded, then brings them back to the kennels. Then the school administration “rides to the rescue” and the kinky professors have another toy to play with. One of the quirks of school policy is that if a full-time student is enslaved for tuition debt, the school is required to keep them attending classes so long as they maintain good academic standing. Each semester, their indebtedness to the school actually grows because tuition is usually higher than the amount that they can work off. So the school can easily keep them enslaved until they graduate. It doesn’t even require creative accounting.”

“That's how they're filling the Harvard slave kennels with enslaved students. Even though the school can't sell them, it can put them to work servicing the professors, the football team, wealthy donors, frat parties, and so forth. There are even internship opportunities especially for slave students. Or they just get rented to a brothel during school vacations.”

“Anyway, once they graduate, THEN the school can sell them and get its money back. Usually, they're sold to someone who wants to make use of their education AND their sexual services. There are plenty of wealthy executives in New York City who would love to have a full-use personal assistant with a Harvard education. It probably even reduces the amount of sexual harassment that free women have to put up with.”

“At any time, the slave can choose to quit school and be sold to cover the remainder of their debt. So that puts them in a bind. If they stay in school, they'll still finish their degree, but their total time as a slave will be longer. If they drop out, their indenture will be shorter, but they won't get a degree. It's these dropouts that Jeb is re-titling at the Big D Boston Market and then either auctioning them off or bringing them here for sale. I don't know how many he has, but I think he mentioned renting a trailer."

As Gwen wound down her report, Harriette steepled her fingers and gazed across the table at her. "Is he letting this extracurricular activity of his interfere with his schoolwork? Because I'm paying that school a LOT of money to send him there."

Gwen chucked and smiled as she took a sip of her wine. "I suppose you'll have to ask him that when he gets here."

"I suppose I will," Harriette responded, pursing her lips. "Or I could just call him right now... Ranch-lexa, call Jeb!"

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The television picture changed to a telephone icon, and they heard a ringing telephone sound. Harriette returned to her meal while it rang. Eventually it went to voicemail. "Not funny, Jeb," she muttered. "Ranch-lexa, try again."

This time he picked up, but he did it in voice-only mode. "Umm, hi mom," he said, "can I call you back, I'm kind of busy." Just then, there was a soft, feminine whimper in the background.

"I'm kind of busy, too. I'm taking time out of my busy day to call you," Harriette replied tartly. "Why don't you turn the video on and we can chat?"

There came an audible sigh. "Fine mom, give me a second." The four women now heard fumbling sounds and whispers.

Gwen couldn't help herself. She giggled. "Put your pants on first, Jeb!"

"Hello Gwen, I'm trying!" There was more fumbling and whispering. "How was the bachelorette party? I'm sorry I missed it!"

"You weren't invited! Nobody wanted you there!" She sassed back at him.

Finally, the video came on and Jeb's face appeared. Behind him was what appeared to be a cheap hotel room. Sparrow thought he was very handsome. He had his mother's blonde hair and it was sticking up randomly as though he hadn't had a chance to comb it. His face was flushed and a bit sweaty. He looked out at the scene in the kitchen, noting the four women seated around the table. Two were wearing collars, so he ignored them. Slaves are not addressed unless their owner acknowledged their presence first.

"Hi mom, hi Gwen, how are you?"

"We're fine, son, just having a late dinner. I hear you've picked up a part time job on campus. Is that true? Are you letting it interfere with your study time? How are your grades? Why didn't you tell me you needed money?"

"Whoa, whoa, MOM! Calm down, alright? It's just a part time thing, I only do it on weekends. The school needed a slave wrangler and I applied for the job. I'm also billing them for consulting fees for certain things. They had some really inefficient practices here and I'm helping them sort it out. Everybody here is either an abolitionist or an abolitionist poseur. So when a real live Texan walked in the door, they couldn't stop throwing money at me. I've made enough money this semester to even make a couple of purchases of my own."

"I don't care about that; your father is sending you plenty of money. Is it interfering with your schoolwork?"

"No mom, it's not. I said that. The only thing it's interfering with is my drinking and partying."

"I suppose that's all right then," Harriette replied with an indulgent smile. "Show me the slaves you've purchased."

The camera swiveled to show a surprised slave girl who was blushing in shame at the sudden realization that she was on camera with Master Jeb's cum dripping from her face.

"This is Bridget, she was a sophomore at MIT before she was repossessed by the school. They hired me to take her down to the Big D and sell her for them. She wasn't getting very many bids, so I decided to buy her myself." While he was talking, he had the girl move into the "present" position and showed her to his mother. Bridget was a short girl with pleasant face and short brown hair in a bob haircut. She was a bit chubby and stocky with high round breasts and pale pink conical nipples. She also had very pale skin, which gave the viewers a chance to see her full-body blush at being put on display. Her embarrassment at being displayed like this wasn’t helped by the fact that the very first time in her life a boy introduced her to his mother, she was entirely naked and had his semen dripping from her face onto her firm breasts.

Mistress Harriette looked thoughtfully at the blushing slave girl. "How long is her indenture and how much did you pay for her?"

Bridget whimpered. Four days ago, she had been a free woman finishing up her final exams at one of the world's most elite universities. Then her academic advisor had called her into his office and informed her that her financial aid appeal had been rejected and that she was to be enslaved for a period of two years, effective immediately. Alternatively, she could spend the next two and a half years as an enslaved student and then be sold for up to five years after graduation to cover the remainder of her debt. She had chosen immediate enslavement and sale. She had a feeling that a certain professor with a reputation for sexually abusing slave girls was exacerbating her financial woes from behind the scenes and... he had very cold eyes when he looked at her.

Three days ago, she had finished packing almost everything she owned into her parents' car. They had arrived expecting to take their daughter home for a festive Christmas holiday season and were instead shocked to discover that she had been enslaved by the very school that they had entrusted her to. They had protested vehemently but were in no position to ransom Bridget by paying everything off within the week. It had been done. Hugging them goodbye before they started the long, lonely drive home was probably the most painful experience of her life.

Two days ago, she had surrendered herself to the Assistant Dean of Protected Students. She was then taken to the Big D slave market, where she was stripped of her clothing and her humanity, collared, tattooed with a slave identification number, graded, and placed on the auction block to be sold like a captured animal.

The humiliation hadn't stopped there. She had carefully studied the slave yoga block routines on the Internet and practiced in the privacy of her dorm room. She knew that she might be enslaved at the end of the semester and wanted to be ready for it, just in case. Although she had been terrified of the prospect, she also found it surprisingly arousing, knowing that she would be sexually used as part of her slavery. After reading one of those trashy slave romance novels, she even found herself masturbating at night fantasizing about being used by a benevolent master. So when the door opened and she rushed out onto the auction block, she had been ready. She gave it her very best. She had always known that she wasn't classically beautiful, but she really and truly felt that if she put forth a strong effort, it would be rewarded. It wasn't. She flaunted, she postured, she teased... and nobody bid on her. Finally, Master Jeb had stepped forward with a scowl on his face and bid her reserve price with a chop of his hand, thus sparing her the even deeper degradation of being returned to the university as a utility slave, the lowest form of campus life.

He hadn't spoken to her other than a few curt orders on the ride to the Harvard slave kennels, which she had learned was his base of operations. Each time she looked aside at him in order to gauge his mood, his clenched jaw frightened her into silence. She had no idea what his plans were for her, only that whatever they were, she had no say in the matter. She was now entirely at his mercy. But she took heart in the fact that he had never once been cruel or abusive toward her, yet. And the few times they had spoken before her enslavement, he had been very helpful. Although the subject of those conversations was terrifying to her, he was quite possibly the warmest and most encouraging man in her life, other than her father.

As they pulled into the parking lot, she finally gained the courage to speak. "I'm sorry," she said meekly, "I followed your advice and gave it my best..."

He silenced her with a hand on her bare thigh. Since her own clothing had already been disposed of, she was now wearing nothing but an ugly orange slave shift and an insulated cape with the word "SLAVE" across the back in bold lettering. "Don't worry, honey, you did nothing wrong. I apologize for being so quiet on the way here. I'm still mad about that whole thing. It wasn't your fault. Those assholes at the Big D are so focused on their prime pleasure sluts that they aren't capable of selling a girl who doesn't grade at least choice. You're worth twice what I paid for you. Now we just need to find the right placement."

He put the truck in park and turned to her, lifting up her downcast face with a commanding fingertip so he could see her eyes. "Listen carefully, Bridget. You belong to me now. You are mine. You are my responsibility. I'm not going to sell you to the first random guy I see with a fistful of dollars. My family members have been slavers since the Reinstitution. We honestly and truly believe that a happy slave is a good slave and I'm going to find a good home for you. Understand?"

She nodded and wiped her tears with her cuffed hands.

Bridget had assumed that he would use her sexually that evening. Due to her unusual arousal, commonly referred to as slave heat, she was she was looking forward to it and was disappointed when he didn’t. Instead, he had simply checked her into the kennel and headed back out, telling her to "Be up and ready at six AM and have your luggage packed and ready to go" before turning away.

She had no "luggage" to pack and the slave-girl at the desk had giggled at her discomfiture. "That's Jeb," she said with a smile. "He's one of the good ones. He really is, okay? Let's get you settled."

That was last night. She had fallen asleep in her borrowed bunk with her mind whirling with a mixture of fear of the unknown, unresolved sexual arousal, and hopeful confidence in a young man that she barely knew. He was her age, but he seemed to know what he was doing, so she had to place her trust in him. She felt so intensely vulnerable at this point that she had believe someone. It had to be him. She simply had no one else. She didn't know if it was her heart, her mind, or her aching vagina that propelled her to put her faith in him, but she fell asleep with tentative confidence that Master Jeb would make everything all right.

Today they had driven together for 14 hours from Boston to Knoxville. "If you really want to get to know someone," he said to her, "drive to Texas with them." It was true. During the drive, they had talked for hours about their lives, their childhoods, their families, and their hopes and dreams. It was inevitable. She held nothing back.

When they arrived at the hotel, Master Jeb had been all business. He got Bridget and the other slave girl, whose name she only knew as "Number 32", settled down in the hotel room while he went in search of food and diesel. Bridget didn't know why Master Jeb gave the two of them such different treatment, but she didn't dare question it. So she watched silently as the other girl was kept tightly constrained, gagged, and then bound to a bed.

Bridget knew that slave owners were required to protect their property from physical harm and Master Jeb had been extremely conscientious in that regard with both of them. But he treated Bridget like a peer who was unfortunately temporarily diverted from a good life, whereas he treated Number 32 like she was some sort of dangerous vermin. Number 32 was utterly beautiful, with a ballerina's slender physique, lovely dark eyes, and a luxurious cloud of long dark hair. Bridget knew that female slaves were primarily valued based on their sex appeal. So if Number 32 was objectively sexier than she was, why was Master Jeb treating Bridget like a friend while treating Number 32 like an object? It made no sense. Was it one of the psychological games that slave owners play?

Then, after his return, Master Jeb fed both of them and treated Bridget to the most passionate sexual experience of her life. She had a few sexual experiences before, but no one had ever been so focused on her pleasure. If she had known anything at all about the psychology of slavery, she would have seen her feelings for what they were - a classic Sudden Enslavement Syndrome descent into joyous servitude.

But now she was on blatant display in front of Master Jeb's mother, and she desperately needed to make a good impression.

"Two years, Mom," he replied to his mother's first question. "She could have finished her degree as a slave student and then done another three to five years as a slave intern, but she decided to get it over with and then make another attempt at getting her degree. Honestly, I think it could have gone either way, but it was her decision at the time and that's just how it is. She was studying metallurgy at MIT, so my thought was that I might ask dad if Excelsior has any openings for slave interns who haven't finished their degrees yet. What are your thoughts?"

"Hmm..."

Bridget could see the picture of Master Jeb's mother on the screen of his phone. Due to the sound quality of the 17th generation smartphone, she sounded like she was in the same room. But the tiny picture was still tiny, so she couldn't gauge Mistress Harriette's body language at all. She did sound interested in her, though. Bridget wasn't sure if attracting Mistress Harriette's interest was a good thing or not.

"Jeb, go ahead and do a sales evaluation on the girl. I'd like to see how you handle it."

"All right... " he said, carefully ensuring that the cell phone was arranged on its stand to give it the best view of the naked slave girl. "As you can see, this item is approximately 5'2" and weighs 143 pounds. She has short brown hair, green eyes, a sturdy build, and a pleasant smile. This combination of traits would make her an ideal domestic. However, her indenture is only for two years, and most buyers seeking new domestics prefer a minimum of three years remaining on their indentures. Nevertheless, the girl is intelligent and can be expected to learn her duties quickly, so the relative brevity of her indenture shouldn't be a problem."

Bridget was glad to hear that her intelligence still counted for something. So far, this didn't seem any worse than the treatment she had received on the auction block. But then that hope was dashed as Jeb put one arm around her hip to hold her in place as he slipped two fingers into her recently-used vagina. "Also, I can attest from personal experience that she juices up nicely and has a sweet and tight little cock-pocket."

Bridget's face burned furiously with embarrassment as she felt another gob of Jeb's freshly-deposited semen slowly drip out of her "cock-pocket" and trickle down her leg. She could feel the heat of her shame spreading across her cheeks. She had been prepared for the shame of being publicly displayed when she went out on the auction block. Hundreds of people had ogled her lewd display as she cavorted for their amusement. But somehow, this was far worse, as Master Jeb casually evaluated her physical attributes and her sexual value in front of his own mother.

"Turn left." She turned. "Now, as you can see, this slave is very young, she's only recently turned 20. Her breasts, although not large, are high and firm and have a nice conical shape in profile. Her nipples are also slightly puffy and make a nice, slightly sharper cone at the tip. Her nipples and areola are a light pink, as is common among very fair-skinned slaves. If sold as a domestic, these breasts could easily be treated with mammacillin, which would enlarge them and induce lactation. Thus improved, she would make a good nanny and wet nurse."

This last statement shocked and frightened Bridget. Prior to her enslavement, she had taken comfort in the fact that she couldn't be permanently harmed during her time as a slave, but it had never occurred to her that she might be used as a wet nurse. Would the breast enlargement be permanent? Was that not considered "permanent harm"? It would clearly be a permanent alteration of her body against her will. Would she then be assigned to spend the next two years as nothing more than a walking milk dispenser?

"Turn left, bend and spread," Bridget's inspection became even more degrading. "As previously noted, this slave has very fair skin. So we have a nice pink sphincter here. I'll be testing that out later tonight," Jeb continued. "Also... hold still for me, honey..." he murmured in her ear while immobilizing her bent-over torso with one arm. He then gave her bottom a sharp smack.

Bridget squeaked in surprise and jerked forward against Master Jeb's restraining arm. "Also, as you can see, she's very spankable and spanking her leaves a nice, clear handprint. That, combined with her solid build and healthy cushioning, would make her an ideal BSDM slave."

"BDSM slave!" Bridget thought with alarm, surely not that!

Knowing his mother's preference for spanking young girls, he had Bridget turn around to that her face was toward the camera. "Also, I've noticed that she makes a really cute little chirping sound when startled. Would you like to see her spanked again?"

Harriette leaned forward interestedly. "Yes, if you would, please," she replied.

At that, Master Jeb spanked Bridget again, this time on her other cheek.

Harriette smiled. That really WAS a cute little chirping sound. She also liked the surprised O-face the girl made while doing it. She was even more pleased when Jeb turned the girl back around and had her bend and spread again, displaying her glistening pink vaginal opening and two bright red handprints. Harriette also noted that the girl's arousal hadn't diminished a bit during the entire humiliating display. If anything, her outer labia were even puffier than before, spreading nicely when she was bent over with her hands on her knees. For a woman like Harriette, this girl would definitely make an ideal house slave - pleasant, biddable, and spankable. Harriette's eyes slid over to Meadowlark, who was watching the screen with rapt attention. Meadowlark had all of those traits, as well. She had also been somewhat naughty this evening and Harriette was looking forward to spanking her pert little bottom tonight. In fact, she wanted to do it right now.

"That's enough for now, son," she said. "It looks like you have matters well in hand. Perhaps you can give us a quick run-down of the other item you've purchased and then I'll let you get back to what you were doing before."

"No problem," Jeb replied. "You, get on the other bed and put a towel under your bottom so you don't make a mess, you're dripping."

Bridget quickly complied as Jeb picked up the phone from its stand and pointed it at the other bed, adjusting the lamp to show the other slave girl to his mother. "This is Number 32," he said. Number 32 was an extremely attractive girl with long dark hair, an olive complexion, and a slender dancer's body. However, her face was distorted by a ball gag and a furious scowl, ruining her looks.

"Hmph," Harriette said. Although she liked the girl's looks, she clearly did not appreciate that display of attitude.

"So here's what happened," Jeb continued. "We had a little cheating scandal here at Harvard last week. This is one of the ringleaders. Academic malfeasance is grounds for automatic expulsion. And expulsion means that all of the former student's debts become due immediately. It ALSO means that all matching grants and scholarships are retroactively revoked and added to the debt. If they can't come up with 100% of the needed cash in seven days, the former student is repossessed and sold at auction. It's a harsh penalty, and most Northern schools are loathe to do it. So they usually sweep things under the rug or allow the student to 'voluntarily' transfer to another school. Usually. But not in this case. Little Miss Entitled here thinks she's being treated unfairly because other people have gotten away with it in the past. She's mouthy, she's uncooperative, she thinks the rules don't apply to her and she thinks that she's not really a slave and refuses to act like one.”

"I told the school administration that they simply cannot try to sell her in this condition. They would only get a fraction of her true value and it just didn't make any sense. So I offered them a solution. I bought half her title from them for a nominal price and I'm going to take her to Texas with me and get her retrained. Then I'm going to sell her and we'll split the profits. Frankly, we're going to have to resort to some pretty stiff measures with this one and the Dean of Protected Students didn't want to be seen having a hand in it, so it's a win-win all around. Even 32 is better off this way, she just doesn't know it yet. I think that if we can get her attitude adjusted, I can bring her back to the East Coast and get her a good placement as a sexretary. Anyway, we'll talk more when she's not listening in. I have some ideas I'd like to run past you. I've already spoken to Grandfather about it and he had some good ideas. Questions?"

Harriette was silent for a moment, looking into the nameless slave's furious eyes. She didn't like it, but sometimes a slave's spirit needs to be broken for her own good. On the other hand, there were people who enjoyed doing just that and many of them were willing to pay good money for the opportunity to do so. That was undoubtedly what Jeb was thinking and also why he didn't want the girl to hear about it beforehand.

She nodded. "All right,” she said thoughtfully, “we'll talk more when you get here. I assume you're staying at the estate?"

"Yeah, that was my plan if it's all right. I'll call ahead and make sure we have a kennel for this one. I'll probably have Bridget sleep with me, though, I'm still working on her sexual skills training."

"Sounds good. Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight, you have a long drive tomorrow. If you get too sleepy, don't hesitate to stop and get a room, okay sweetie?"

"Mom, I'm twenty years old, you don't need to tuck me in at night."

"Of course not, dear. Also, don't forget to take out 32's gag before you go to sleep, it's a safety violation. You can't sell her if doesn't live through the night."

“Yes mom, I know that, too. I know my job," he replied with a long-suffering and dramatic sigh.

"I know honey, but I worry,” his mother replied contritely. “You remember how broken up you were about Goldie. I just don't want something like that happening to you again."

Jeb gave out a long suffering sigh, "Mom, I'm older and wiser now, goodnight." He sighed again and hung up.

Both girls were now looking at Master Jeb with wide, frightened eyes. Since 32 was still gagged, it was left to Bridget to express their mutual concern about the slave who had been injured - or worse - while under Master Jeb's care. "What happened to Goldie?" she asked, her voice squeaking a bit.

"Goldie the Goldfish was my first pet. I was seven. This is different. Thirty-two, if I take your gag out now, do you promise to behave yourself? Because you really and truly do NOT want to have that thing in your mouth all night long. Mom's right, I've got a long drive tomorrow. Bridget, we'll do your anal training another time. Get under the covers and we'll get some sleep. The alarm is set for 6:30, I'll start my day with a blowjob, so don't forget."

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

"Well," said Mistress Harriette after the call ended. "Gwen, what did you think? Do you think Jeb has some sort of romantic intentions toward this slave girl?"

Both slaves immediately turned to look at Gwen. How much about Gwen's earlier questions did the Mistress know? They certainly hadn't said anything! Gwen scowled at them and they immediately became fascinated with their remaining food.

"No, Harriette, I don't," she replied. "I just think that Jeb understands that sometimes good people end up wearing collars and the best way to keep them productive is to take good care of them. You and Daddy set the example, so don't be surprised when he follows in your footsteps."

"Hmm, I think you're right. What did you think about the second slave, number 32?"

"I dunno, we didn't really get a chance to learn anything about her. But it seems to me that if you can't do the time, don't do the crime. Just so you know, cheating on exams has become rampant over the past few years. Ever since they set up that new rule regarding automatic enslavement upon expulsion, ALL of the schools in the Northeast got squeamish about enforcing it and people just keep getting away with it. I even heard a girl bragging about getting away with it at three different schools - and she still graduated without getting into any real trouble. So if 32 is angry about being made an example of, then that's entirely reasonable. What's NOT reasonable is refusing to accept that that's what happened and she needs to learn how to deal with it."

"Agreed. It will be interesting to see how Jeb handles his first real challenge as a slaver. I'm so proud of him for being so industrious," Harriette replied. Then her tone changed from motherly and indulgent to commanding. "It's time for bed. Gwen, you and Sparrow will be in the guest bedroom. Meadowlark, you're sleeping with me tonight. I'll clean the table, you three all need to have enemas before bed, chop-chop!"

At her command, the two slave girls immediately rose from the table and started toward the door. They had been wondering what their sleeping arrangements would be for the night and now they knew. They had both been slaves long enough that they didn't question that fact that Mistress Harriette had chosen their bed partners without asking for their opinion. Sparrow felt confident that Gwen would be a pleasant bedtime companion, but Meadowlark was a bit more apprehensive. Nobody really knew what happened here in Mistress Harriette's private quarters. The rumor mill was surprisingly silent. She had seen enough cases of clients - a surprising number of whom were women - who were publicly kind toward slaves, but who then became cruel or abusive behind closed doors. She didn't think that Mistress Harriette would be like that, but she was still worried. If it turned out that the Mistress WAS abusive, she would have no recourse and no escape. The mag-locked doors would see to that.

Gwen didn't move. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and defiantly crossed her arms. "Really Harriette? I can see why THEY need to have their nightly enema, but why do I need one? I don't eat pony chow OR wear a giant tail plug!" She felt like she had a legitimate point. The combination of a daily diet of pony chow and wearing extremely large anal plugs meant that ponies needed to have their colons thoroughly cleansed twice a day. Otherwise, unsanitary accidents were inevitable. It also ensured that they were prepared to be used for anal sex at any time, which Gwen also didn't need to worry about.

The two slave girls stopped at the door to see if Gwen was coming. Neither of them wanted to be seen as an eavesdropper, but Mistress Harriette HAD specified that all three were going to do something and they both decided to wait and see if that was going to happen.

Harriette was not accepting any intransigence from ANY girl under her roof. "Because," she said firmly, "you engaged in anal play today and you need a thorough cleaning out. It's simple hygiene."

"Harriette, I'm not a child and you can't treat me like one. I had my bottom washed thoroughly when I took a shower."

"I see, inside and out?"

Gwen's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "I'm not telling you that!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Harriette chuckled. "You just did." She then turned her attention toward the two wide-eyed slave girls. "Which one of you washed her butt?"

"Harriette!" Gwen protested angrily, "you can't ask them that! It's a violation of my privacy!"

Both Meadowlark and Sparrow tentatively raised their hands. Beaten, Gwen klonked her forehead down on the table in embarrassment.

Very pleased with herself, Harriette inquired, "Inside and out?" They nodded. Gwen groaned. "How many fingers?" They each held up three fingers. "I see, and did she enjoy it?"

"Oh Gawd, Harriette, can you please stop now? I'll do it, just... stop asking them questions," Gwen mumbled into the table. "I can't believe you! Never mind, actually I can."

"Excellent, I'm glad that's settled," continued Harriette, satisfied. "Meadowlark, Sparrow, make sure that Gwen is thoroughly cleaned out twice, then give her one of the small gel plugs for the night. It seems she's developing an interest in anal training and she needs to get started on it. Gwen, no more complaints. Go!"

The three nightgown-clad girls scurried off. The two slaves were completely silent, but Gwen managed to sigh and moan her way out the door like every other unfairly tormented teenage girl ever.

When they returned, Harriette was sitting at the table catching up on her email. She looked up at the three girls and said, "Good, now bend and spread for inspection. All three turned around and bent over at the waist, spreading their butt cheeks to expose their plugged anuses. The two slave girls were still silent as this inspection was a daily part of their routine. Gwen managed to squeeze in at least one more long-suffering sigh at the humiliating treatment. The three girls' plugs were made of clear gel and Harriette shined a bright maglight into the base of each, illuminating the bright pink insides of their rectums. "Clean," Harriette said as she finished each inspection with a mild swat on the butt. "Gwen, Sparrow, off to bed. Meadowlark, you're with me."

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

Anywho, thanks for reading. I expect that Part Five will be along at some point. Gwen and Sparrow need some snuggle time and Meadowlark needs a spanking. Also, Gwen and Harriette have not finished having their showdown over who gets to control Hammer's cock.

Zee!

[eroticstoryspinner]

Zee I have been reading your work and it's a pleasure to see you start strong and improve with every new installment. Looking forward to the next story.

[jeepster]

Lots of stuff in this! What does Harriet know about Gwen's troubles and why would Gwen talk to the slaves cause everyone knows you can't trust a slave. And what's the real story with the 2 slaves coming south? Interesting!

[ZeeChromosome]

Lots of stuff in this! What does Harriet know about Gwen's troubles and why would Gwen talk to the slaves cause everyone knows you can't trust a slave. And what's the real story with the 2 slaves coming south? Interesting!

All good questions, Jeep. I'm pleased that the plot is piquing your curiosity. This chapter wasn't quite a raunchy as the first two, so I was worried about that.

I'm working on Part 5 right now. Hopefully that will clear some things up.

Regarding the two slaves coming South (Bridget and Number 32), Carl and I were curious, too. We ended up plotting out an entire sequel in a series of emails, tentatively titled "Internship Adventures", focusing on Bridget's work as a slave intern at Jeb's father's natural resources company. There she is placed in the Assay Department and becomes very popular with the engineers. Eventually, I hope to return her to school on a slave-scholarship so she can finish her education.

Zee

[Lensman2000]

I've just discovered your well-crafted stories and am looking forward to the direction you'll take in chapter 5!

[ZeeChromosome]

Thanks, Lensman. I have 4 follow-on chapters mostly done, but haven't done much writing since January. I hope to get back in the saddle again soon.

The Hank saga has not been abandoned or forgotten!

[Mr. Smith]

Just loved Bridgette's cute little chirping sound and surprised O-face when spanked. Will one of your chapters cover 32's extensive training regimen that will break her will? I am looking forward to how she is turned into an obedient pleasure slut.

[ZeeChromosome]

Bridget's a fun character and I've enjoyed writing her. I like to have a balanced mix of sympathetic and unsympathetic characters and Bridget is my likable character in this segment.

Obviously, 32 is the unlikable character here. And yeah, I'll need to plan her training sequence and then we'll probably see her later in her new role as a collared sexretary. She has always gotten ahead on her looks and will need to learn to give head on her knees going forward.

Thanks for the comment!