Bachelorette Party Part 5

[ZeeChromosome]

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Bachelorette Party Part Five
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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 was mainly plot, with plenty of humiliation and a gratuitous spanking. Plus, a cute chirping noise.

I haven’t written much since January. This story would have continued to molder on my hard drive if not for the kind support and editing by Avicia, Carl Bradford, Eroticstoryspinner, and Mr. Smith. I’m hoping to get Part 6 done more quickly.

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Inspection
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When the three girls returned to the kitchen, Harriette had finished clearing the table and was sitting with her tablet catching up on emails. In contrast to the three girls, who wore plain cotton nightgowns and robes that barely covered their naughty bits, Mistress Harriette wore an elegant ankle-length silk nightgown and robe. Sitting calmly at the table, she appeared to be exactly what she was – a wealthy married woman relaxing before bedtime, the type of woman who could expect to be attended by one or more slaves at any given time. She looked up from her tablet and turned a critical eye on the three girls before her, only two of whom were actual slaves.

“I see you’ve brushed and braided your hair. It looks nice. Gwen, the over-the-shoulder braid looks good on you; you should wear it like that more often. Have you also had your bedtime enemas as I instructed… all three of you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” chorused the two slave girls on either side of the silently-fuming Gwen.

"Good,” she said, picking up a small flashlight with a bright halogen bulb. “Now bend and spread for inspection."

The two slaves turned around and obediently bent over at the waist, spreading their butt cheeks to expose their plugged anuses. They were silent as they did so, this being an expected daily part of their routine. Plugged girls are clean girls, and clean girls are good girls; everyone knows that.

Gwen managed to squeeze in at least one more long-suffering sigh at the humiliating treatment before following their example. There was no reason for Harriette to treat her this way other than the fact that she wanted to and thought she could get away with it. Guinevere knew all about her big sister's preference for young women with perky bottoms. And she also knew that Harriette enjoyed her power. Although Gwen instinctively bristled at being ordered about like a common slave girl, she calmed her anger with the thought that she would need Harriette's cooperation if she was going to woo the handsome racing stallion that she had her eyes on. Nevertheless, she knew it would appear suspicious if she didn't at least protest a little bit.

The three girls' anal plugs were made of clear gel, and Harriette shined a penlight into the base of each, illuminating the pink interior of their rectums. "Clean," Harriette said as she finished each inspection with a mild swat on the butt. "Gwen, Sparrow, off to bed. Meadow, you're with me."

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Cuddle Time
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Gwen and Sparrow entered the guest bedroom holding hands, and the door clunked shut behind them with the now-familiar sound of an engaging maglock. The room contained a neatly-made bed, a wardrobe, and a small chest of drawers. There was a small bathroom off to one side containing a sink, a generic slave squat-toilet in the floor, and a shower stall. It all smelled very clean. There was also a collection of basic toiletries. The wardrobe, which they had already looked into, held only a few cotton robes and shift sets like they were already wearing. Gwen checked the dresser and found an old Hillary Rodham slave romance paperback, probably from the Ranch's library, a training collar with a plastic quick-release fastener, and a drawer full of sex toys.

“Of course," Gwen commented wryly, "Harriette has an entire drawer full of sex toys and no panties. Typical. And a slave yoga training collar. I wonder why that’s there? I haven’t seen mine since I was in high school.”

She then sat on the bed with a sigh. "Now what?" she asked no one in particular. "No TV, no cell phone, no clothing. What are we supposed to do in here? Harriette didn't even have my luggage brought up!"

Sparrow had a hard time empathizing with her. She hadn't had access to any of those things for six months. In fact, watching music videos in the kitchen while eating ice cream a few minutes ago had been one of the best things that had happened to her in ages. Her life wasn't all drudgery, of course, but the ability to choose her own entertainment options was severely limited. She hadn't been ordered to do anything, so she just stood there with a concerned look on her face.

Getting impatient, Gwen went to the door and tried to open it. It refused to budge. "Ranch-lexa, open the door. My authority, Guinevere Bellefleur."

The Ranch AI's emotionless voice responded from a speaker on the wall. "Egress is forbidden until 6:30 AM tomorrow."

Gwen huffed in annoyance. "Ranch-lexa, call Harriette."

“Mistress Harriette Valdez does not wish to be disturbed. Would you like to speak to the concierge?”

"Now we're getting somewhere," Gwen muttered. Eventually she was able to arrange for her luggage to be brought from her cabin to the base of the stairs. She still didn't have her cell phone or any of her own clothing, but she felt like she had at least accomplished something.

“Ranch-lexa, call Clarissa.”

The speaker buzzed for a second and they heard a clunk and a splash from the other end. “Yo, Ranchy-lexy BABEE, whassup?” shouted Clarissa, clearly having had too much to drink.

“Hi Clarissa, it’s me Gwen, I just wanted to let you know I’m all right.”

“Oh, hey Gwennie, glad to hear that! Where y’at? We’re havin’ a great time here, yer missin’ OUT!”

Gwen frowned at her sister’s drunken ranting and looked at Sparrow for support. Sparrow decided that physical comfort was called for and quickly joined Gwen on the bed. She then picked up the comforter and spread it over both of their shoulders. Miss Gwen was infinitely her superior in legal terms, but in real, human, emotional terms, this was a girl two years younger who needed a friend. Sparrow put her arm around Gwen, reveling in the erotic sensation of two cloth-covered bodies snuggled next to one another.

“We’re in Harriette’s private quarters; she locked us in the guest bedroom.”

“We-us who?”

“Oh, umm,” Gwen glanced at Sparrow, “me and Sparrow, she’s one of the…”

“Ahhahhah! So that’s your slave-slut for the night? Make her lick your pussy! Mine’s doin’ a great job!” There was a splashing sound. “Hey, QUIT actin’ like you’re drownin’ and LICK… MY… PUSSY!”

Suddenly a new voice sounded over the speaker, speaking rapidly, “Whoa, Clarissa, knock it off! Hey, Gwen it’s me, Chantelle. I’m glad to hear you’re all right. I’ll seeyoutomorrowgoodnight!” With that, the call cut off abruptly.

Gwen and Sparrow on the bed together, a bit stunned.

“Well now,” Gwen murmured, “I guess you can see why I didn’t want to be part of that. Clarissa’s friends are a pretty fast crowd. I’m glad that she has Chantelle to keep an eye on her.”

Gwen squeezed Sparrow’s hand reassuringly. “I’m sure that… umm… whoever is her slave girl for the night will be fine. Hopefully. Probably. She should know better.”

She stared at the wall for a bit, thinking. “Ranch-lexa, call Mom.”

Again the wall speaker made a buzzing telephone noise. Soon, a lovely voice filled with maternal kindness came from the speaker. It made Sparrow’s heart ache for her own mother. “Hi honey, how did it go? I called Clarissa, but she said you safe-worded out and left. Are you okay? Remember, it’s perfectly all right to use a safe word if you need it.”

"IF you have one," thought Sparrow to herself.

“I’m okay, mom, I just didn’t want to join the rest of the party. You know how rowdy Clarissa’s crowd can get.”

“I do, honey, let’s just leave it at that for now. Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m in Harriette’s private quarters at the Ranch, in the guest bedroom. I’m here with Sparrow, we’re locked in.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe, honey. I don’t think I’ve met Sparrow yet. I assume she’s one of Harriette’s girls. Hi Sparrow! I’m Gwen’s mom! And also Harriette’s mom, pleased to meet you!”

Sparrow was surprised by the cheery greeting. Usually, free persons don’t acknowledge slaves directly, much less greet them personally. She wasn’t sure what to do, but it seemed appropriate to respond. “Hello, Ma’am, I-I’m Sparrow.”

“Oh, Gwen, she has such a lovely voice. I’m so sorry I can’t see you two right now. Please take good care of my baby tonight, Sparrow; maybe we can meet again soon. So, honey, I received a mysterious text from Jeb a few minutes ago, and I want to know what it meant.”

Gwen and Sparrow looked at one another, eyes wide-open in surprise and amusement. “Sure, mom,” Gwen responded cautiously, “uhh... what did he say?”

“Hmm… he said, ‘Bringing two new slave girls to Christmas, need to put one in the cellar.’ Do you know what this is all about? Because I have no clue. Actually, I might, he’s been calling Justin a lot for advice lately. Can you tell me what he’s been up to? Where did he get two slave girls?”

Gwen proceeded to relate to her the call that they had earlier. “Hmm…” they could hear Gabriella Bellefleur thinking over the phone. “Number 32 is easy. We’ll have him bring her here and kennel her. We have a lot more staff here at the Manor. I think Henry and Harriette only have one or two servants at their house at any one time.”

“So,” she said with growing conviction, “Jeb will need to kennel her here where she can be watched. I do NOT like what you said about how Jeb got the job. His predecessor lost THREE girls in two months? That is utterly unacceptable. It seems to me that no one is preparing these East Coast girls for slavery at all. Everyone knows that recently-enslaved girls need to be watched 24-7 until they accept what has happened to them. From your description of number 32, it appears that is not the case. I should call him and make arrangements. Do you think he’s still up? It’s getting late.”

Both listening girls burst into a fit of giggles at the same time. Giggles are contagious, and two girls huddling together under a comforter made the ideal environment for infectious giggles to spread.

“Umm, mom,” Gwen began, still gasping for breath, “I’m pretty sure Jeb wanted to get back to training Bridget. And, well, first his mom interrupted him mid-stroke. I’m pretty sure that if his grandmother called right now, he would divorce the family and move to Fiji.”

There was a pause from the other side of the call. Then the two girls heard a giggle to match their own. Apparently, giggles can even be contagious even over telephone lines. “I see your point, honey, thank you for warning me. Although… it kind of makes me want to call him even more. Does that make me a bad grandmother?”

Gwen chuckled, “No, mom, you’re fine. It would be funny, though. Let’s leave him alone for now. I think he mentioned anal training, so he probably balls-deep right at the moment.”

“Fine. I bought him a nice sweater for Christmas, but I don’t think that would make up for the embarrassment and I want him to be happy. On a more serious note, this information about Number 32 concerns me. What do you know about this cheating scandal?”

“Not much, mom, just that this grade-selling crap has been going on for years, and nobody has truly been held accountable for it until now. The northeastern schools have been so hesitant to enslave anyone that they just kept sweeping it under the rug whenever they caught the cheats. So, it’s understandable why 32 thinks she’s been wrongfully enslaved. I don’t agree with her, of course, but that’s what’s in her head right now. Maybe you can talk some sense into her?”

“I can certainly try. In the meantime, we can make her comfortable and ensure that she doesn’t harm herself before she can come to terms with her enslavement. God knows I’ve been there. I was the same age when I was enslaved. Suddenly going from being a free woman with a wide-open future to chattel at the mercy of random strangers can be emotionally devastating. I’ll call Jeb in the morning while he’s driving and make arrangements. Thank you for giving me a heads up on that and letting me know you’re safe. Are you planning on going shopping with me tomorrow? There are still a few things I need to pick up for the wedding.”

“I dunno, mom, maybe? I’m not sure if or when Harriette’s going to let me out. You know how she is; she likes to be in control. I’ll let you know once I get my phone back.”

“Great, sounds like a plan! Ask her if we can bring Sparrow, it will be fun! G’nite honeybunch, love you!”

“I love you too, mom. Give Daddy a kiss for me!”

The two girls sat quietly for a moment under their blanket with their backs against the wall. “I’m sorry, Sparrow,” said Gwen quietly.

Sparrow looked at her. “Sorry for what?” she asked.

“I called my mom and talked to her. I don’t think you guys are allowed to do that, are you?”

“We can," Sparrow responded cheerfully. "We have one rest day per week, and we can have an hour-long visit from immediate family. If they can’t make it, we’re allowed to call them. I spoke to my mom and dad on Thursday. It's a legal requirement.”

“Oh good, I’m so glad. I know that sometimes I do rude things that you aren’t able to bring to my attention and for that I apologize. Mom says that we always need to behave properly in public, which means keeping up appearances regarding the difference in legal status. But in private, it’s good to be polite whenever possible. That’s why she said ‘Hi’ to you when we were on the phone. She didn’t need to do that, but she did it anyway so you would feel valued and included, like a person. On the other hand, you may have noticed that Jeb ignored you and Meadow. That’s because he was in a room with his two new slaves, and he needs to project that cruel-slaver-in-charge image.”

Sparrow nodded. “I've noticed that with clients. Oftentimes, if older clients rent a cart by themselves or with a plus one, they treat their ponies really nice, like they would if we were one of their kids' friends. Or if the customer is close in age, they sometimes treat you like a peer, although that's less common."

Sparrow was quiet for a moment, then continued, "It also explains why the most scariest person I know has been so nice to us this evening.”

Gwen snickered, “Exactly. Harriette’s a tough one, no doubt about it. If she wasn’t, she couldn’t run this business. But she does have a soft side, and if you’re a good, obedient girl, you’ll see it from time to time. Come on, let’s lie down and snuggle and talk. I know you have some questions about what went down tonight, and I promise to answer them if I can."

The two girls quickly laid down together and pulled the comforter up. They squirmed into a companionable spooning position, with Gwen as the big spoon, as is proper. Their too-short nightgowns had ridden up in the process of snuggling down, and Gwen intertwined her legs with Sparrow's and ran her fingers lightly up and down Sparrow’s smooth skin from her hairless pubic mound to her perky breasts. She then cupped one of Sparrow’s breasts with her hand and snuggled up close.

After a few moments of comforting silence, Sparrow tentatively asked, “So, Mistress Harriette is your sister?”

“Yes, half-sister. My mom, who we just spoke to, is Daddy’s second wife. Mom and Harriette are the same age and were pregnant at the same time with me and Jeb. That’s how we’re the same age, and we’re both freshmen at Harvard at the same time. People sometimes mistake us for cousins or siblings or something, but he’s really my nephew. It’s kind of funny to watch peoples’ faces when we explain it to them. And, of course, because they’re Yankees, they think we’re some kind of inbreeding 'I’m my own grandpa' kind of story. It’s super annoying, but it IS weird, so there’s that. Anyway, Daddy’s a lot older than Mom. But with the new anti-aging drugs that are coming out, that shouldn’t matter much. He’s just as vigorous now as he was 30 years ago.”

“Wow, how did they meet?” Sparrow asked.

“Hm. I COULD say that he bought her at auction, which he did, but that’s not how they met. She was recent college graduate and a new employee at Daddy’s firm when she was repossessed for something that was totally not her fault. She had co-signed a loan with her brother and her uncle so they could open a tire shop. The tire shop made lots of money, but the asshats decided to invest their profits in a meth lab instead of paying down the loan. The meth lab exploded, and they were arrested. The tire shop was confiscated by the authorities, and the loan company repossessed my mom. They sent slave catchers to Daddy's company, and they marched her out of the office naked in front of her coworkers. Daddy was furious; he went down to the auction house and bought her back that same day. It was terribly romantic. He did everything but gallop into the Big D on a white horse shooting pistols in the air.”

“Oh wow! And then he set her free, and they fell in love and got married? That is so insanely romantic!”

“Yes and no. They were already in love in spite of the age difference. But neither of them would make a move because they were worried about public appearances since she was one of his youngest employees. Then he bought her at auction, which makes everything different. Nobody thinks anything about an older man having a much younger slave girl."

"Now they were together, but they still had a problem. Daddy's a professional slaver, so he can't be seen as weak. If he had simply repurchased her and manumitted her, then his enemies would smell blood in the water like sharks and come after him. Believe me, most of the people in the debt slavery business ARE sharks, only with a greater appetite and fewer morals. So instead of setting her free, he sent her to the Broadstone Etiquette Academy and they married about a year after she graduated from there. That’s why she has so much empathy for slave girls because she was once one herself. Does that make sense?”

“It sure does. Umm... I mean, I've HEARD of the Broadstone Academy before, but I don't know much about it. I hear that those consort schools turn young women into essentially mind-controlled Stepford wives without any free will. But she doesn't seem that way at all.”

“Oh golly Sparrow, it's not like that at all! I mean, there ARE slave schools like Lone Oak that intentionally give their girls that kind of conditioning. But Broadstone and the other high end consort academies aren't like that. A true Master, a genuinely dominant man like my father, he doesn't want a woman with no spark. Absolutely not. I mean, that was what attracted him to her in the first place, it was her lively personality. Destroying that would have been like painting over the Mona Lisa with a cartoon smiley face. That's why he was so frightened and angry when she was enslaved. Anything at all could have happened to her! She COULD have been sold to one of those mind-melter places.

The academies train a woman to be the perfect wife, that's true, but their vision of perfection isn’t a passive sex doll, it’s a woman who can stand next to her man – and who WILL stand by her man – without question in all things. But she can’t do that if she’s a fluff-brain or a wet noodle. In public, she will likely defer to him in all things, but she needs to be able to support him in private by being willing to tell him he’s wrong if necessary. So yeah, there’s a lot more to it than people think. Does that make things a bit clearer? Remember, this is all Ranch secret, so no telling.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sparrow replied a bit too quickly, “I’m good at keeping secrets!”

Gwen sighed and shifted herself a bit to make them both more comfortable. Her free hand slowly drifted down Sparrow’s firm abdomen, trailing little shivers in its wake. “I’m sorry, Sparrow, I did it again. I didn’t mean to threaten you. It’s just that this business runs on secrets, so we have to be strict about it.”

“I know, it’s okay,” the slave girl murmured as she snuggled unto Gwen’s arms sleepily. “I’d like to be able to meet your mom someday, she seemed so nice.”

“You may get a chance,” Gwen replied with a yawn. “I can’t promise you anything, since Harriette is apparently the boss of everyone, and I’m not. But mom said she would ask her if we can take you shopping with us, wouldn’t that be fun?”

Instead of Sparrow being pleased, she seemed to freeze up in Gwen’s arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Umm, I’ll do it if you want me to, Miss Gwen, but I’ve never been out in public naked before. I was either in the auction house or here on the Ranch. I mean, it may sound weird to you, but here, everyone is either a naked slave, or they are here expecting to SEE naked slaves. It’s not like going to an ordinary mall with just random people walking around living their lives. It would just be really, really strange. I mean yeah, I’ve grown up seeing people out in public with their slaves before; it’s part of daily life. But I’ve never actually BEEN that slave girl walking around in public. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Gwen reassured her. “Again, no promises, but if we go to the mall or something, we’ll put a slave smock on you. The Galleria mall isn’t exactly an adults-only venue. I’m not sure how it will go. I don’t even know if we’d get permission for you to go. Or what Harriette will say. We can ask, though, would that be all right?”

“Okay, a trip to the mall would be fun, I guess. I’m just really scared of going out there wearing nothing but a collar, and I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get Mom on our side, and she’ll make everything all right. But don’t be surprised if she decides you should be naked where appropriate. That was part of the consort training at Broadstone – going out in public collared, naked, and leashed. You need to learn to handle yourself like that and not worry about it. It’s perfectly legal, you’re not doing anything wrong, you’re just being obedient. It’s part of being a slave girl. Once you’ve done it a few times, it just becomes no big deal. At least that’s the way Mom explained it to me.”

“But what if someone recognizes me? I grew up nearby! I mean, we might run into someone who knows me, and not many people know that I'm serving an indenture.”

“Don’t worry about it. Odds are, no one will recognize you. If they’re guys, they’ll be staring at your magical eye-capturing titties. If they’re girls,” here Gwen began to softly stroke Sparrow’s shapely flank, “they’ll be staring at these buns of steel and wishing they could have your fitness level. Trust me, it happens all the time. It's surprising how often people are completely unable to recognize a naked slave as the same person they once knew back when they were a per... a free person. You’ll be fine, Mom and I will protect you; you just need to stay close and follow commands. Do you think you can do it?”

“I feel safe with you, I think I can,” Sparrow said in a small voice.

“All right then, it’s settled. It’ll be fun.”

“But what about Meadowlark? We’re a pony pair and we’re supposed to do everything together.”

“I’ll ask if we can take her, too. I have a sneaking suspicion that Harriette plans to keep her close. She usually has a favorite pony she keeps as a bed-slave for those times when Henry isn't here. Henry is her husband, by the way. He spends a lot of time overseas negotiating mineral rights and inspecting things. When he's not here, Harriette likes to have someone to cuddle with. You may not have noticed it, but I saw how she was eying Meadowlark. Anyway, as long as I can remember, there has always been an extra slave girl at events like Thanksgiving and Christmas. If that's the case, then Harriette will want us to buy her something to wear to the party, since we're also shopping for Christmas dinner outfits, anyway. We'll see what happens in the morning, okay? Either way, I'm sure Meadowlark will be safe, so don't worry about a thing. Harriette is very tender with her bed-slaves, she just doesn't want the world to know about it. It's another secret."

“Not exactly a secret, although nobody really talks about it. We do see things though, so everybody in the pony barn knows,” said Sparrow. “The previous girl was Ripple, but she went back to school a couple of months ago.”

“Yeah,” Gwen replied, “that’s her. She came to our Christmas party last year dressed as an elf and helped hand out the candy and presents to the little ones. She was the most amazingly sweet girl, and I remember she had super long, thick hair just a bit darker and curlier than mine. In fact, other than the skin tone and hair color, she reminds me a lot of Meadowlark. I should have seen that coming.”

Gwen suddenly giggled, “Or should I say I should have seen Harriette ‘cumming’?”

Sparrow was silent.

“Umm, sorry,” Gwen whispered. “You can’t make fun of Harriette because she’s your owner. But I’m her sister, so I’ll make fun of her all I want. But not where she can hear, of course.”

Sparrow giggled at that. The two girls lay there together quietly for a period of time, each listening to the other breath while lost in her own thoughts. Both young women had had an unusual day filled with new experiences, and each was taking the opportunity to process her own thoughts and emotions.

Sparrow was thinking about the secrets that she had learned about her owner’s family tonight. She was also worried and excited about the possibility of going on an outing to the shopping mall the next day. The HH Ranch was a closed ecosystem for the slaves confined there. Most of them never left the grounds throughout their indentures.

Yet tomorrow, Sparrow might be following Miss Gwen around the mall like a pet on a leash, possibly wearing a slave smock, or even entirely slave naked! And she was looking forward to it! Sparrow squirmed a bit under the covers. Although the prospect terrified her, it also excited her to a certain degree. She was attractive but had never been one of the girls who always seemed to catch the boys’ eyes. But tomorrow, all eyes would be on her. Most would be scornful or indifferent, treating her like a moving object, but some would view her with heated lust, a living sex toy being paraded down the street for their viewing pleasure. She squirmed some more, hoping that Gwen wouldn’t notice.

Gwen, on her part, spent the pause thinking about the same things, but from a different perspective. Up until now, her dalliance with Hank had been entirely one-sided. He hadn’t even known that she existed. Before today, their relationship had existed entirely within her fantasies. As far as she knew, it was HER secret. But today they met face to face. Sort of. They had sex face to face, anyway. So that was progress! If she wanted the relationship to proceed further, she would have to work with Harriette to make that happen. And that meant that Harriette would have the power to tell her what to do for the foreseeable future. Gwen started mulling over how that might look.

The first step came to her fairly quickly. In the morning, Harriette was going to expect Gwen to perform slave yoga with the ponies. All evening, for whatever reason, Harriette had treated her like one of her slave girls. She was going to continue doing that until she told Gwen what she wanted. It all made sense. Had she talked to Clarissa? Did Clarissa know about Gwen’s slave crush? Was Harriette trying to scare her off somehow so she would leave her prize stallion alone? That must be it. She was testing Gwen’s stubbornness and commitment. Unseen behind Sparrow’s head in the darkened room, Gwen’s eyes narrowed in concentration and determination. If Harriette wanted to challenge her, she was going to be ready!

“Sparrow,” she asked softly, “are you awake?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Sparrow hesitated a moment. She didn’t want Miss Gwen to think that she had been mulling over the secrets that she had learned this evening. That wouldn’t look good for her. Instead, she chose to respond about the other thing occupying her mind. “Umm, I’m just worried about the trip to the mall… assuming we can even go, of course.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Second Call to Mom
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“Oh yeah, hold on... Ranch-lexa, call mom!”

“Hello again, dear.” Once again, Sparrow heard that lovely voice. She could well believe that this was a woman that a powerful man like Gwen's father would rescue without hesitation.

“Hey, mom, I was thinking, can we take Sparrow AND Meadowlark to the mall with us tomorrow? I’ll ask Harriette tomorrow and see if it’s okay.”

“Oh, is Meadowlark there with you, too? I thought it was just you and Sparrow?”

“Umm, no, she’s with Harriette tonight.”

“Oh good, I was hoping she would find a successor for Ripple. I assume she’s just as sweet?”

The two girls looked at one another. Neither one of them was sure how much they could say without drawing Harriette’s ire. Gabriela picked up on the pause and figured out the reason for it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ll ask her myself," Gabriela continued briskly. "I know how she is. Tell you what, honey, I’ll drive the SUV tomorrow so we have room for one or two more, just in case. How does that sound? Anything else?”

“Yeah, Sparrow’s a little bit nervous about going to the mall. Can you give her some advice? Since you know, you umm…”

“I can provide her with coaching in the car, dear. Speaking of which, what time can I pick you up?”

Gwen sighed. “I’m really not sure. Like I said before, Harriette has us locked in for the night, I don’t know what time she’s going to let us out. Plus, she’ll probably want us to do pony yoga with her or something. Or FOR her. She’s treating me like one of her slave girls, all bossy and such. She even made me get an enema and a plug for the night. Sometimes she goes way too far with things.”

“I see. Are you wearing it now? Or did you take it out as soon as you got to your room?”

“Mo-o-om!" Gwen complained while wiggling her plugged bottom. The truth was, she had almost forgotten that it was in there. No, that was wrong. She hadn’t forgotten it was there, she was just starting to LIKE that it was there. She may have become used to it, but that didn't mean she wanted to discuss it with her own mother. "You can’t ask me that! It’s private!”

They heard Mrs. Bellefleur’s tinkling laughter. “Apparently not, since you just told me the answer. Keep it in for the night, plugged girls are clean girls and clean girls are good girls. Sparrow, you’re in charge of making sure she doesn’t take it out. Guinevere Cadence Bellefleur, I expect you to wear it all day tomorrow, too. Sparrow will be wearing hers, and I expect you to be wearing yours. No arguments.”

Gabriela’s voice had gradually transitioned from indulgent to stern during the preceding speech. The two girls looked at each other with equally puzzled expressions on their faces. It was one thing for Gwen’s sister to treat her like a slave girl for the night, but since when did mothers do that to their daughters? Apparently, Broadstone graduates had different expectations of their daughters?

“Now Gwen, since you’re going to be doing yoga with the ‘other slave girls’, you’re going to need a collar. Do you have one in your bags?”

Gwen scowled at the speaker on the wall. This was starting to get really weird. “No Mom, why would I have a training collar in my luggage? It’s in my room somewhere. Oh! But there is one here in the dresser, I saw it earlier and I wondered…”

“Knees! Collar!”

At the sound of the classic slave yoga commands spoken with the Voice of Authority, Gwen smoothly slipped off the bed onto the floor, spread her thighs wide, bowed her head, and raised her hair from the back of her neck. She didn’t need to think about it, it just happened. Although she hadn't done any yoga since she graduated from high school six months earlier, her two years of slave yoga conditioning took over when she heard the commands, and she moved without conscious volition. She didn’t sigh or roll her eyes once. She simply obeyed.

Sparrow was impressed and a little bit shocked. She sat on the bed in her nightgown, trying to figure out if she should be on her knees next to Miss Gwen.

“Sparrow, go and fetch the collar in the dresser now, please. Put it on Gwen. Let me know when that has been accomplished.”

Sparrow hopped down off of the bed and, nightgown fluttering, hastened to comply. The training collar had a quick-release plastic fastener. It snapped shut on the kneeling girl’s bowed neck with a satisfying “click!”. It certainly satisfied Sparrow. She was even more satisfied to observe Gwen’s involuntary shudder as it encircled her throat and snapped shut. “Done, Mistress,” Sparrow chirped in the direction of the wall-mounted speaker.

“Guinevere, you are forbidden to remove that collar until AFTER slave yoga tomorrow. Do you understand my command?”

“Yes, Mistress Mom.”

“No sass from you, missy, three demerits! I will inform Mistress Harriette, and she will give you a spanking.”

“Mo-om…”

“FOUR demerits. Not another word from you, Guinevere! If you won’t behave properly to save yourself from a spanking, just remember that your slave sisters get punished for your demerits as well. I will get a full report from Harriette when I arrive, and I expect to hear that you protected your slave sisters by behaving yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Gwen had finally seen the light and decided to stop being stubborn and willful. She wasn’t beaten or broken, she just saw that there was an easier path forward. Sometimes, obedience is best. If only ALL teenagers were willing to learn that lesson.

Sparrow was still a bit taken aback. Mistress Bellefleur had abruptly switched from affectionate mom to stern taskmistress without any warning or transition. She didn’t sound angry or cruel, but she was very, very authoritative. It was obviously a role in which she was well-practiced. Maybe it had something to do with her Broadstone training? Or had she been giving her daughters slave yoga training in the evenings? That would also explain Miss Gwen’s speedy obedience when she received the command to kneel. Her mother must have had extensive pleasure slave training at the academy, so it made sense that she would be the ideal trainer for her own daughters.

“Now then. Gwen, you be quiet; you already have plenty of demerits already. Sparrow, how many orgasms has my daughter had today?”

“Four, Ma’am. Three at the party and one in the showers.”

For once, Gwen was silent. Perhaps she had finally been cowed?

“I see, and you?"

"Once in the showers, Miss Gwen ordered it. With Meadowlark.”

“Hmm, it seems we have a deficit. Gwen, you and Sparrow need to get to bed soon. But before that, you need to rectify the difference between you. So, I order you to give her one or more orgasms before bed. If you do that, I won’t mention your demerits to Harriette when I see her tomorrow, and you and your slave-sister can avoid a spanking. Is that clear? Gwen, I assure you that you would dislike Harriette’s spankings FAR more than you do mine.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good, that’s settled. One final thing. Gwen, are you wearing clothing? If so, take it off. Sparrow, if you are wearing clothing, then keep it on. I know that there are plenty of nighties in that wardrobe there. You’re in charge for the rest of the night. You are a clothed good girl for the rest of the evening. Gwen has demerits, so she’s on punishment and isn’t allowed to wear clothing until she works her demerits off. Have Ranch-lexa text me when you have received your orgasm. Good night and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Then she was gone. She had somehow managed to project her authority across the telephone line into a locked room and effortlessly dominate the two girls with only the sound of her voice. That projection had been so effective that when she cut off the connection, it felt like the room was somehow emptier.

Sparrow remained rooted to the spot. For the second time this evening, she was uncertain what to do. Once again, she wanted to seek an authority figure to tell her. The only problem was that the FORMER authority in the room had apparently just been demoted to “slave girl” for the night. And Sparrow had just been promoted to “not the slave” for the night? She thought?

To make things worse, the shoulders of the girl in front of her were shaking as though she were sobbing. It appeared that her mother’s abrupt change of face had really upset her. Sparrow tentatively reached forward and touched the sobbing girl’s shoulder. “Umm, Gwen,” she began…

Gwen interrupted her by suddenly surging to her feet and whipping off the robe and chemise as one. She then began vigorously wiping the tears from her face, causing Sparrow’s heart to lurch in her chest. Meadowlark had a terrible relationship with her mother, and several times Sparrow had had to console her after a visit or phone call from her. And now, here was another girl whose mother tormented her instead of supporting her. She needed to…

Gwen turned and lowered the bundle of cotton from her tear-stained eyes, revealing a smiling face. “Oh-my-GOD, Sparrow, can you believe she did that?” Gwen noticed Sparrow's concerned expression. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m not crying, I’m laughing. Honestly, you’ll never understand unless I tell you the whole story, but that can wait. How do you want it?”

“Umm, want what?”

“Your orgasm, you’re in charge. I know you ponies have all kinds of sexy adventures in the pony barn, but what is it that you rarely get to do that you really want to?”

“Umm....”

There were some sex toys in the chest of drawers... okay, a LOT of sex toys, and Sparrow's thoughts flickered over them. The strap on and the double-ended dildo were pretty enticing. No, that wasn't what she really wanted. The one thing that free women did to ponies that they never did to each other was... Her eyes narrowed, and her face fixed in a stern mask.

“Kneel, slave!” she commanded and watched as the “slave” girl dropped to her knees before her. “Back hands!” she commanded further. She walked around the kneeling “slave”. Gwen had correctly clasped her hands together at her waist. But that wasn't what Sparrow wanted. “Cross arms,” she ordered, and watched as Gwen easily folded her arms and grasped an elbow with each hand. Her demonstration of flexibility was proof of her excellent slave yoga training. Sparrow had noticed it earlier in the day when Gwen had managed a perfect 180-degree split on the cross at the bachelorette party. So this wasn't a surprise. Sparrow was pleased. Every sculptor loves good clay. Sparrow, normally the clay, had become the sculptor for a night.

When pulling carts, fillies like Sparrow had their arms bound behind their backs. There were two types of armbinder, and it was up to the cart driver to decide which one to use. It was mainly an aesthetic choice. Which type of binder did the driver enjoy seeing trotting down the track in front of them? The pony was, of course, never consulted. Their opinion was irrelevant. Only the viewer's pleasure mattered.

The easiest binding to endure was the single arm binder, in which the pony placed her arms straight down her back with her hands folded together. Then a conical leather bag was placed over her hands and arms and laced tight. This gave the filly the appearance of having only a single arm down the middle of her back, hence the name. It was an effective and inescapable method of making a girl utterly helpless by depriving her of the use her arms. She was trapped in the binder's leather confines until released by someone else. In addition to making her completely powerless, it was also visually appealing as it forced her to arch her back to reduce the stress on her shoulders. This thrust her breasts forward and made them bounce more as she strained against the cart's harness because the pony had to work harder.

Sometimes, after a day of having their arms bound tightly behind their backs, ponies needed to have their arms and shoulders massaged to restore circulation and the use of their hands. This was especially a problem for newer ponies. Sparrow's ligaments had ached almost continuously during her first few weeks in service.

The other available arm binding was the cross-arm binding, in which the filly folded her arms behind her rib cage as Gwen was doing right now. It was a more difficult and stressful position for the poor pony to endure for extended lengths of time. Newer ponies always started with the single-arm binder, and then, if they were able to adapt, they would be transitioned to the crossed-arm binder. Once the girl's arms were folded behind her back, they were secured with a leather tube whose ends were fastened to the upper arms. Although it left the girl with the ability to restore circulation by wiggling her fingers, it was more stressful on the shoulders and elbows. It also forced the girls' backs into an even deeper arch, thrusting their breasts out even more in the front. The result was even more aesthetically pleasing to viewers, although it made pulling a cart even more difficult.

Some ponies were never able to adapt to the frequent binding and developed a condition called "binder palsy", which caused their arms to atrophy. Sparrow knew of a pair of rescue ponies whose stick-thin arms were currently being rehabilitated in the HH Ranch's boarding stable. They had a special pony yoga routine that they performed alone with one of the trainers after the other girls had finished. Although the normal pony variant of slave yoga was performed entirely with the hands clasped behind the back, the rescue ponies' routine featured lots and lots of wide arm gestures for as long as their still-weak muscles held out. The cruel sight was a continual reminder to Sparrow that she had achieved a soft landing by ending up at THIS ranch, rather than somewhere else less interested in the long-term wellbeing of their livestock.

Sparrow smiled down at the kneeling free woman playing slave at her feet. She then opened the toy drawer and removed a stretchy velcro strap, which she proceeded to wrap around the girl's forearms... binding them tight, making her helpless, making her depend on Sparrow for release, making Sparrow her... Mistress.

This was it. This was what free women did to Sparrow when they used her for their own sexual thrills. They bound her, made her helpless, and forced her to kneel before them. And then... and then they required her to lick them to orgasm while they stood over her upturned face and either smiled down at her or simply ignored her completely, like she was a vibrating toy or something. Sparrow had no intention of doing the latter. She was going to enjoy this and watch every expression on the face of the "slave girl" servicing her. And if she complained? Then too bad, Sparrow had her orders, both from Mistress Gabriela AND Miss Gwen herself, "what is it that you rarely get to do that you really want to?" That's what she said, and that's what Sparrow would do. Miss Gwen had no one to blame but herself... and her own mother. Nobody cares what the kneeling slave girl thinks about it. Second thoughts are not allowed.

"Knees together," she commanded as she stepped forward and placed her feet on either side of the kneeling girl's thighs. Now she was trapped, now she was Sparrow's. Now Sparrow... owned her.

"Dammit!" Sparrow thought, the design of her pony collar prevented her from looking down and seeing her slave girl's face. Pony collars covered a girl's throat from the collar bone to the chin. It forced their heads erect and didn't allow a girl wearing one to see her own lower body. That's why they required help from a pony pair for basic hygiene. Sparrow wasn't going to be able to look the free girl in the eyes as she serviced her! That wasn't what Sparrow wanted, but her own collar wasn't coming off for another two and a half years. Sparrow decided to do the next best thing. Instead of gazing downward into the dominated girl's eyes, she would gaze imperiously into the distance while the submissive "slave" pleasured her. It would be almost as good, but she would need a more commanding demeanor. Fortunately, she had literally dozens of real-life role models to work with. Sparrow and Meadowlark had attracted quite a following of female customers. Some of them were kind. Some were cruel. And some of them were... imperious. Avicia Jackson, wife of a prominent businessman and slave owner, was one of them.

“Leek my poosy," she said in Avicia's French accent. Sparrow wasn't sure of the woman's true background. It didn't matter. She had that amazing accent, and she wielded it like the rapier of a romance novel swordsman. "Steek your tongue out and make me seeng.”

Sparrow stepped forward and trapped the kneeling girl's thighs between her feet and then forcibly guided her face into her own smooth crotch. Gwen's face and upper body were pinioned by the slave girl's powerful pony-trained thighs.

Gwen didn't protest and offered no resistance as her face was pressed into the warm, scented folds of another woman's vagina for the first time in her life. Although she had always been attracted to men since a young age - mainly tall, athletic men like her father - she had no objection to same-sex loving. It simply hadn't come up before. Now it appeared that she wasn't being given a choice. "Is this what it's like to be a slave girl?" she thought. "No choices, just obedience? Is this what it was like for Hank, simply pushed into it and expected to perform? Is that how he viewed me today, just another command to obey? Or is there something I'm missing?"

Sparrow sighed in pleasure. "That's eet," she murmured in her imitation-French accent, "thrust with your tongue, as deep as you can. In and out, in and out, just like that. Now leek up and down on either side, now on the inside, get it all wet, get it all damp, get it all over your face. I want my love juices dripping down your chin. That's right, just like that. You're going to lick and suck me until I cum on your face. Oooooh! I like that, keep doing that. That's eet slave girl, leek it up, suck it up, swallow my juices. Savor the taste of my high-class pussy on your tongue, serve me well."

As the pussy-licking picked up steam, so did the slow rocking motions of her hips as she smeared her dripping juices all over the kneeling girl's face. Sparrow had never experienced oral sex from this dominant position before. No wonder the men liked it when she sucked their cocks on her knees. Holding Gwen's hair and controlling her head and mouth while standing over her gave Sparrow a thrill of power. And that power made her insides boil with lust.

When Sparrow had sex with clients, it was usually just the client having sex with themselves while using Sparrow's body as a sex toy. Now Sparrow was in the same position. She played the role ruthlessly, giving Gwen a series of directions and commands while sliding her crotch over her face. Her orgasm built quicker than expected, and suddenly she began pumping her hips faster and faster until her building orgasm released itself. Breathing hard, she stood up straight without releasing Gwen's head. She wasn't done yet. She could feel the girl beneath her trying to catch her breath, but she wasn't quite satisfied. Her raging libido was still roaring for vengeance for all the times a free woman had done this to her without regard for her feelings. Free women had safe words. Even now, Gwen could use her safe word or simply refuse to continue, but she did not. Sparrow had more to get out of her system, and she felt an even bigger orgasm coming on.

Once again, she began to give Gwen instructions in her terrible faux-French accent. “Yes, leek up my juices, savor them slave girl; they are the nectar of life! This is where you belong, between my thighs, serving your betters! All of your life has led your here to serve me, and you WILL serve me well. Right down the middle now, long smooth leeks. Find my button and shape your tongue around it, worship it. Yes-s-s... just like that, just like that... now suck, suck my clitty like your life depends on it, suck me slave! Suck Me!”

Sparrow came again, much more powerfully this time. Her legs wobbled, and she slowly slid down Gwen's front until they were kneeling face to face with Sparrow’s thighs still trapping the younger girl in place. Both of them were breathing heavily now, Gwen from being half smothered in Sparrow's sex and Sparrow from experiencing an exhausting orgasm.

Suddenly they both began chuckling, and Sparrow pulled back from her embrace of Gwen's helplessly immobilized upper body. She immediately began raining kisses on Gwen's cream-smeared face. “That was amazing, Gwen,” she said happily. “Thank you so much for that! Wow, that was really great. Have you done that a lot? Because you were really good!”

“No,” replied Gwen as she speculatively rotated her sore jaw from side to side. “That was a first for me, but I think I liked it?”

Sparrow's eyebrows flew up in surprise as she pulled Gwen to her feet and began leading her into the small bathroom. “Really? What do you mean ‘first’? As is ‘first time licking pussy’ or ‘first time doing it in that position’?"

“Umm... actually both. I've never personally gotten involved in girl-girl sex before. Today was a new experience for me in a lot of ways. First at the party, of course. I have never in my life participated in a BDSM scene ever. Then in the showers with you and Meadow and your amazing fingers, then in here with the... umm... licking. Not to mention that,” she shrugged her still-bound shoulders, “I've never been tied up like this before. I mean, it's not strange to me. You should see the bondage setup my parents have in their bedroom. Really, bondage games aren’t an alien concept to me at all. I've just never been involved in one.”

Sparrow soaked a clean washcloth in hot water and began cleaning the mess off Gwen's face, chest... and thighs. She chuckled, “Wow, I really cut loose there, didn't I? I've never been much of a squirter, so thanks for that... or should I say ‘congrats’ since you did all the work?’

Sparrow was on her knees now, gently wiping down Gwen's neatly-trimmed pubic patch on the mons above her hairless labia. As a free woman, having pubic hair was both a privilege and a mark of status. Sparrow's pubic hair, like all her body hair, had been shaved and depilated on the day of her enslavement six months ago. She was about due for her second depilation. When her indenture was over, after three years of depilation treatments, she MIGHT have a 50/50 chance of growing pubic hair again someday. Most likely though, even if it DID grow back, it would be very sparse and thin, forever marking her as a former slave. She wondered how Mistress Gabriele handled that? Did she avoid the pool or just wear extremely modest swimsuits? What if she had a brand, how did she hide THAT? Sparrow returned to the small bathroom and rinsed the washcloth, subconsciously rubbing her own brand through the thin cloth of her nightgown. Why was she worried about pubic hair when she had been BRANDED? There was no escape from that! She was marked for life.

Gwen broke into Sparrow's ruminations with a question. “Umm, Sparrow,” she asked while twisting her shoulders a bit, “are you going to cut me loose so I can return the favor? I think I'm cramping up.”

“Nope!” Sparrow replied with a cheerful and superior smile. “We haven't reported in yet, how can I let you loose?”

Gwen scowled crossly at her and demanded. “Why do we need permission? Mom doesn't even know you've tied me up!”

Sparrow frowned right back at her. Someone obviously didn’t have all the information she needed. That’s how stupid mistakes happen!

“Gwen,” she said in a very serious tone, “ one of the worst things a slave can do is release someone from bondage without permission. It just isn't done. It should NEVER be done. Unless, you know, the building is burning down and they need to escape. It doesn't matter that I'm the one who put these bindings on you, I need permission to take them off. Wait, wait, before you argue with me...”

Sparrow paused and made an exaggerated gesture pointing at her own collar. A small blue indicator light was visible below her left ear. “One should always assume that the Masters can know all, hear all, and see all if they want to. They certainly aren't sitting around watching us at all times, that would be silly. But they can if they choose to check in on what the slaves are doing. Do you understand?”

Gwen scowled suspiciously, thought for a moment, and then nodded.

“All right,” Sparrow said, “just trust my judgment on this and let me take the lead. We need to report in, and we need to request permission to unbind you. If we don't hear back, then I think it's all right to assume that we are allowed to unbind you so you can get some sleep tonight. It's not safe to keep a tight binding on a slave overnight. That's a safety violation. We still might get punished, but at least we'll have some sort of defense. Okay?”

Gwen nodded and mentally squared her shoulders, she was ready. Physically, her shoulders were already squared, her binding would allow nothing less.

Sparrow led her out into the bedroom and guided her to stand in front of the speaker on the wall. Gwen stared at it suspiciously. It looked unremarkable, a flat black disk of ceramic. Were they really being monitored like that? Was it possible that Harriette had both audio and visual record of what had taken place here tonight?

Sparrow nudged her. "You have to do it," she said, "Ranch-lexa won't respond to me."

Gwen nodded and turned to the speaker again, "Ranch-lexa, text message for my mother, Gabriela Bellefleur, message as follows: 'Mission accomplished. Two orgasms delivered, please cancel demerits. Also, request permission to remove bindings. Love, Gwen."

The two girls sat on the bed to wait for a response. Gwen fidgeted uncomfortably. "Rotate your shoulders like this," Sparrow told her while demonstrating a slow roll with her own shoulders. "Sometimes we get stuck waiting for a long time while bound and it helps restore circulation. Lots of people think slavery is constant action, but it's not. We spend most of our time waiting for the free people in the room to notice us and tell us what to do. One time..."

"Hello again, Sparrow and Gwen! I see that my instructions have been followed. Sparrow, precisely what bindings are you using on your slave girl?"

The two girls shared an amused glance. Both of them had immediately picked up on the fact that Mistress Gabriela had reversed the normal name order. Normally, the free person's name is always mentioned first. If the slave is mentioned at all, it's an afterthought.

"Oui, Madame," Sparrow replied in the same haughty French accent she had been using earlier, "I have deecided to use the strap of velcro to bind her in the crossed arm position. She ees very flexible, this slave is very well trained, no? Please convey my regards to her trainer."

Beside her, Gwen's bound shoulders shook in silent laughter, both at the ridiculous accent and Sparrow's blatant flattery. Gabriela Bellefleur was an avid practitioner of slave yoga. She credited her regular yoga practice for the successful outcome of her auction many years ago. She told Gwen that, while she had no doubts that Justin would come for her, she still needed to impress the bidders to drive her price as high as possible so that Justin would be proud of her.

"I see," Mistress replied with an amused tone, "Although I'm tempted to make her sleep in it, that IS a safety violation. So yes, please release your slave girl and get a good night's sleep. Unless there is anything else, I will see you in the morning, Mademoiselle Sparrow."

Soon the two giggling girls were back in bed under the covers. This time, Sparrow was the big spoon, as is proper.

"G'nite, Mademoiselle Sparrow."

"G'nite Gwen, and thank you for playing along, that was really fun."

Both girls had had a very long day, and they were soon fast asleep.

[ZeeChromosome]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Naughty Girls Get Spanks
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After sending Gwen off to her room with her bed-slave, Harriette guided her own sweet little morsel toward the master bedroom. The girl went willingly, even leaning into her as they padded down the hall barefoot with Harriette's hand on her lower back. Harriette enjoyed the smell of the girl's freshly washed hair as she leaned in close, melding her slender, muscular body against Harriette's taller and more mature form.

For Meadowlark, even though it was only a few steps, it felt like a lifetime as her Owner and Mistress guided her toward her innermost chamber of secrets. Meadowlark's breath seemed to vibrate electrically through her chest, and her heart was beating wildly., Mistress Harriette had been the source of all power in her HH Ranch world for the last six months. Mistress had always been distant, powerful, commanding… and always watching. And she had chosen her, Meadowlark, as her bedmate for the night!

They stepped into the room together, and... Meadowlark's heart sank as she saw her equipment bag perched on Mistress's bed. She barely heard Mistress command, "Ranch-lexa, close and lock the door. Hold all calls, I am not to be disturbed."

Meadowlark lurched toward the bag, reaching for it, then suddenly halted. She wanted to hide it, she needed to hide it. She had stolen things from Miss Gwen, and didn't want Mistress to find out. She didn't know what the right thing to do was. Instead, she did what frightened slaves normally do, she froze in place and awaited orders.

“Meadowlark," Harriette spoke from behind her in a very calm voice, "why don't you open your bag and show me what's inside?”

Although very frightened, Meadowlark instantly moved to obey. She was a slave, she had been given an order. No matter how bad a situation is, instant obedience was always the best choice. She unzipped the bag and efficiently laid everything neatly on the bed. She then took a step back and stood with her head bowed submissively and held her hands behind her back.

Mistress stepped forward and surveyed the arranged items. "Put the toys back in the bag, then tell me what you see."

Meadowlark hastily complied, stepped back again, and stood with her head bowed. "I-I see a sparkly tiara and a piece of cloth, M-Mistress," she replied in a very small voice. "It-it's Miss Gwen's skirt that we cut off of her." Her night had been going so well, and now she was certainly going to be punished for stealing!

"I see," Mistress Harriette told her. "Can you tell me why you have these things?"

"I..." Meadowlark's voice cracked, and she began to sob quietly. "I thought they were pretty, and I thought no one would notice if I took them. Also, I thought they looked sad and abandoned and I didn't want them to feel lonely and end up in the trash."

Harriette frowned at that last part. It was not uncommon for enslaved women, especially young ones like Meadowlark, who indentured straight out of high school, to develop what the psychologists called "slave mind". One of the characteristics of that mental disorder was a sort of regressed child-like state where the slave depended on their owner emotionally in an almost parent-child relationship. Harriette was a professional slaver, and was well aware of the mechanics of slave mind conditioning. Unlike many other slavers, Harriette actually worked hard to prevent her slaves from falling down the slave mind rabbit hole. Her business model was based on having a continual supply of fresh young athletic pony slaves, and the best way to ensure that supply was through voluntary indentures… and the best way encourage those indentures was to be able to demonstrate to potential recruits that selling themselves to the HH Ranch was a smart step forward to a successful life.

Meadowlark had been accepted at several very prestigious universities, including the one Harriette's son Jeb attended, Harvard. But she didn't have the funds to matriculate without accumulating an insurmountably high student debt load. So she sold herself to Harriette on a two-year indenture. After two years of sexual servitude, she would have enough money in her slave trust to get her academic career back on track.

Harriette wanted her to succeed. It was important to Harriette's recruiting efforts that she could point out successful former ponies, even using some as references.

Harriette would have to keep an eye on that in order to ensure that it didn't develop further. But right now, she had a naughty slave girl to punish.

"Good girls don't steal," Harriette told her sternly. "You will have to be punished for that. Put these things over by the wall and then come here."

While the frightened teen was putting the bag and other items by the wall, Mistress Harriette took a seat on the bed, arranging her silk nightclothes neatly. "Lie across my legs with your face down, it's time for a spanking."

When Meadowlark turned around, her heart caught in her throat. Mistress Harriette had opened her robe when she sat down and it hung down on either side of her body. While Meadowlark’s back was turned, she had also hiked up and removed her chemise so that her body was almost entirely exposed by the open robe. Meadowlark could see just a hint of blonde pubic hairs at the top of her smooth thighs. She looked so elegant and commanding like that… and sexy. Until that moment, Meadowlark hadn't realized that she had a crush on her Mistress. Her eyes began to tear up at the thought because now she had ruined everything by being a stupid, greedy girl, and Mistress was angry with her.

"Come along then," Harriette urged her as she approached.

Meadowlark began to strip out of her comfy cotton robe. She had been bad, and she didn't deserve it. Mistress Harriette had kindly allowed her to wear it, and now she stupidly ruined everything. She was just a slave girl about to be punished, and slaves should be naked. They didn't deserve to wear clothes. Meadowlark didn't deserve to wear clothes.

Harriette stopped her. "No, no," she said, "leave it on and come lie down across my lap."

Meadowlark was puzzled but immediately obeyed. She wasn't sure what game Mistress was playing, but at least she wasn't being stripped and beaten. Not that Mistress would "beat" her, but you never know. Slaves needed to be careful.

Now that the trembling slave girl was face down, Harriette could relax her stern mask and smiled with pleasure. This girl was such a delight! Harriette had manumitted her previous bed-slave a few months earlier and had been monitoring potential replacements ever since. She had very specific tastes in the girls that she chose to bring into her bed and Meadowlark checked all the boxes. She was sweet and attractive, naturally sexually submissive, and equally important... eminently spankable. In this position, Meadowlark's short cotton chemise barely covered the tops of her upturned bottom. Harriette placed her hand on it gently, savoring the moment. She loved breaking in new girls.

One of Harriette's earliest sexual experiences left a permanent impression on her. She and her best friend had a sleepover on her friend's 18th birthday. They had snuck into her father's liquor cabinet and were somewhat tipsy. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to lower inhibitions. Harriette had been fascinated by other girls’ bottoms for some time but had never had the courage to do anything about it. But that night was different. When they were alone in her room, Harriette told her friend that she needed to get 18 spanks for her birthday. After some giggly wrestling, she finally had her friend right where she wanted her, lying across her lap. Just like this sweet sexy slave girl right now.

Harriette rested her hand on the peak of the prone girl's bottom. Half her hand was touching a soft cotton nightgown, half caressed bare skin. Hemlines are exciting because they are the transition zone between hidden and revealed. Harriette could have simply ordered the girl to disrobe, but where's the fun in that? No, this was much better. She began stroking Meadowlark's upturned bottom gently, sometimes below the hemline, sometimes above it. Each time she crossed the hem, she felt a small electric thrill. This was power, the power to hide, and the power to reveal.

Meadowlark was still very nervous, but the gentle treatment was calming her. Clearly, Mistress wasn't truly furious with her, but she knew that she was still going to be going to bed with a red bottom tonight.

"Now, Meadowlark," Harriette began in an almost motherly tone, "I believe you have been a naughty. Do you understand the difference between being bad and being naughty?"

"Umm..." Meadowlark wasn't sure.

While she waited for a response, Harriette moved her caresses lower down, toward the exposed crease of Meadow's sex. It was delightfully smooth, puffy, exposed... and damp. All good things, in Harriette's opinion.

Meadow gasped as her Mistress lightly ran the very tips of her nails down the outer folds of her labia. Without thinking about it, she arched her back into the caress, which raised her bottom higher and coincidentally opened access to her now-leaking vagina. The orgiastic activities at the bachelorette party had left her with a simmering heat down below. The hijinks in the shower alleviated that somewhat, but then it began to build again when she realized that Mistress had chosen her for the night… then the revelation of her crime frightened her and cooled her off. Now her arousal was rising again due to the Mistress's expert fingers. It had been a roller-coaster day for Meadowlark’s sexual arousal, and it seemed like that was going to continue. Mistress had asked her a question, then started distracting her mercilessly.

Since her victim wasn't responding… verbally, Harriett decided to answer for her. "Meadow, when a good girl like you does something bad, it makes me very angry and disappointed. She needs to be punished and forgiven so that she can become good again. Do you want to be my good girl?"

Meadow nodded. THAT question she could answer with one-hundred-fold certainty. She wanted very much to be Mistress's "good girl". She felt terrible for stealing Miss Gwen's things. She was swamped with a mixture of emotions with another being arousal. Meadowlark felt her pussy throbbing with need, soon her swelling lips would spread open revealing the extent of her slave heat.

Harriette's ministrations of Meadow's labia began to creep inward, bit by bit. Now her fingertips were beginning to cross from the dry outer labia and trace the dividing line between that and the moist inner surface. She smiled as the prone girl wiggled involuntarily in her lap. The first time she had done that, those many years ago, it was so exciting. Not just because she was doing it to a girl, but because she was doing it to her best friend. Harriette liked crossing lines. She liked breaching boundaries. She liked it even more when the "victim" liked it.

Meadowlark was now flexed on her lap, gripping Harriette's bare thighs to her stomach. Harriette didn't need to hold her in place with her free hand anymore, so she was free to stroke the girl's shimmering, freshly-washed hair. It released a scent of strawberries when she did so. Harriette would have to keep that brand in stock. She genuinely enjoyed pampering her little favorites.

“You haven't been bad, Meadow, you have been naughty. Being bad is when you break the rules for the wrong reasons. I don't think that's what happened here. I think you've been naughty. The difference is that you broke the rules for what you thought were good reasons. You were protecting Gwen's things. You didn't want them to be lonely, is that right?”

Meadowlark whimpered and nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mistress, I thought they would be sad. But I really was bad. I wanted them. I was going to hide them and play with them. I was greedy.”

“Hmm...” Harriet murmured and flipped up the hem of Meadowlark's nightie to expose the entirety of her upthrust bottom. She abandoned the girl's now-engorged and dripping sex and started stroking her perfect mounds again. “Either way, you still have to be punished so you can be my good girl again. Do you understand? You've broken a rule, and I can't let that go unpunished.”

Meadowlark whimpered again. Whereas before she was whimpering in arousal, now it was tinged with a bit of fear as she realized what was coming.

Harriette savored that for a moment, and then, “Smack!” she spanked the girl's sensitive bottom hard.

“Aaah!” Meadowlark cried out.

It was a very cute little shriek, Harriette decided; she wanted to hear it again, ”Smack!”

“Aah!” Meadowlark cried out again.

Harriette enjoyed that one, too. This time the punished girl added a little squeal at the end when she tried to suppress it. This kept getting better. Harriette was very pleased with her chosen bed-slave.

Meadowlark's upturned bottom now had two flaming red handprints on it. Although she was a natural blonde, she spent a lot of time working outdoors almost entirely naked. The smooth skin of her behind was a lovely golden brown color. It was still light enough to give the handprints some nice contrast, though. Harriette admired her work. She was a true connoisseur of spanked bottoms. She had seen many. She loved them all. She rubbed the smacked area to soothe the pain and turn it into heat, then she slid her hand back down to Meadowlark's sex and began to gently slip her fingers up and down the slit. She was gratified to detect that the girl was enjoying her “punishment” just as much as Harriette was.

When Meadow began to moan and squirm again, “Smack!” Harriette returned to spanking. She repeated the process again and again until she had reduced the girl on her lap to a blubbering, post-orgasmic mess.

“Shh...shh...” Harriette soothed the sobbing girl as she gathered her into her arms. “It's all done now, sweetie, no more spanks. You're my good girl again, my VERY good girl. I'm so sorry I had to punish you, sweetie, but it's over now. All is forgiven. Shh...”

Meadowlark lay curled in her mother’s... MISTRESS's arms as she calmed down from the combined pleasure and pain of the spanking. It was wonderful. She felt so safe. She had been bad and Mistress had made her good again. All Meadowlark’s life, she had been made to feel bad. And she had been made to feel bad. And again. Nobody had ever MADE HER GOOD in her life. Not once. Not ever. But here and now, her owner had just made her good. Mistress had that power.

Her upper body was in Mistress's lap with her trembling legs wrapped around her back. Mistress smelled so good, and her lap was so warm and inviting. Harriette's luxurious silk robe had fallen open during the proceedings, and she was holding Meadowlark's head up to her breast. It was comforting. Meadow noticed with dissatisfaction that the bare nipple brushing her nose was tightly crinkled in arousal. Apparently, someone had enjoyed the spanking as much as she had.

One of Meadowlark's arms was wrapped around the Mistress's soft yet firm waist. The other dangled downward between Mistress's thighs. Stealthily, Meadowlark regained control of the nerveless, dangling appendage and brought her hand up, placing it on Mistress's silky smooth inner thigh. As Mistress rocked her soothingly, she cleverly slid her hand deeper into Mistress's lap. Just as she touched Her pubic hairs, Meadow wiggled her head a bit in Her embrace and took a nipple in her mouth. She hadn't been given permission to do so, but it needed her attention. Pleasing the Mistress was her job. Whether Mistress asked for it or not.

Harriette moaned as the impertinent slave girl took the initiative in pleasuring her in return. She had originally planned on comforting the girl and then pinning her to the bed and impaling her with her favorite strapon, but this was nice, too. She decided to allow it. She decided to allow it even more as Meadowlark's questing fingers began to dance up and down her needy slit. Harriette opened her thighs to give the girl better access. “This is nice and unexpected,” she thought. She moaned and leaned back a bit as her slave's agile tongue danced from one nipple to another, and her skilled fingers wrought similar magic between her thighs.

“Oh-h…” Harriette moaned. This was going so much better than planned. Ravishing freshly-punished girls was fun, but it was also fun when she allowed them a little initiative to ravish her back.

Harriette was lying fully back on the bed with her robe and her thighs spread wide open, allowing Meadowlark greater access to her erogenous zones. Meadowlark had by now inserted three fingers into her owner and was thumbing Harriette's clitoris to a rapidly-approaching orgasm.

Then… Meadowlark turned her hand just so, curled her fingers into Harriette's hidden G-spot, while her thumb rapidly flicked across her clit with just the exact right amount of pressure.

Harriette cried out and bucked her hips as her orgasm hit. One of the ironic aspects about her profession was that she ran a sexually-oriented business with unlimited opportunity to have fun, but rarely did so herself. She was too busy. Her husband was usually overseas, and she didn't have sex with other men. She had very specific tastes in slave girls... just like this one. Meadowlark was perfect for Harriette's needs. Sexual satisfaction was too far and in between for Harriette, and she needed that.

She lay there gasping for breath and started patting the bed looking for the large pink vibrator that she left there earlier. She had planned on using it on Meadowlark, but there had been no need... the girl responded perfectly to erotic spanking. Harriette couldn't find it. She raised her head to look for it and saw that Meadowlark, who had been kissing her way down Harriette's stomach, was now on the floor kneeling between her splayed thighs.

With an impish grin, Meadow opened her mouth and placed it directly on Harriett's enflamed post-orgasmically-oversensitive vagina. And she started licking and sucking at the same time.

"No, no, honey, too much... sensitive!" complained Harriette weakly as she tried to wiggle away. If she really wanted to, she could have escaped but... she really didn't want to. The naughtily aggressive slave girl gripped Harriette's upraised thighs and continued her assault on Harriette's leaking womanhood. This was actually the second time that Harriette had taken her to bed. The first time was on the day that Harriette purchased her. Most pony slave grade in the Choice or Select range. They needed to be attractive, but more importantly, they needed to be athletic in order to pull pony carts. Meadowlark had graded Choice Plus, at the upper end of what Harriette was usually willing to pay. She wanted to test out the new girl and see if she was the right choice.

Six months ago, Harriette found her obedient and willing to learn, but utterly inexperienced in pleasuring a woman with her tongue. That was obviously no longer the case. Six months working as a pony had clearly taught her a few things. It was no wonder that Meadowlark and Sparrow were so popular with Harriette’s female customers. She had a magic tongue, this girl did. And she used it to rapidly drive her owner to toward a second orgasm.

Harriette wasn’t normally multi-orgasmic, though, and she began to peak short of that precipice. That was until the slave girl between her thighs smiled up at her with her eyes – her lower face was hidden of course, with her nose buried in Harriette’s light brown pubic thatch. “Oh! Oh! Harriette cried as her “missing” vibrator began to slide into her. She was planning on using on Meadowlark, but the naughty slave girl had discovered it, filched it, and was using it on HER!

Harriette’s second orgasm was even better than the first. Twisting and convulsing, Harriette locked the girl’s head between her thighs. She kept telling her to stop, but she didn’t stop and Harriette didn’t want her to. Her tongue kept going, and she kept sliding the vibrator in and out without losing pace, even as Harriette thrashed and squirmed this way and that. Finally, the storm passed and Harriette could unclench her thighs and pull herself weakly out of the way. Her “ruthless slaver” façade was nowhere in sight. It wasn't destroyed, it was just absent.

Harriette laid there for a minute in the middle of her bed. Her robe was thrown open. Her legs were thrown open. Her head hung down over the side. She was done for the night. She sat up weakly, slipping out of her robe as she did so, and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Normally, only her husband Henry was able to get that reaction out of her. She made a decision, this one was a keeper.

Speaking of whom, Meadowlark was kneeling beside the bed with her head bowed and her hands fidgeting in her lap. Harriette crawled over to the edge of the bed and raised the nervous girl's sad face. “What's wrong, sweetie?” she asked.

“Umm... are you going to send me away now, Mistress? Because I was bad? I didn't listen when you said to ‘stop’!”

The poor thing was clearly distraught. Either that or she was an amazing actress, but Harriette didn't think so. The slavery business runs on lies, secrets, and deceit. Harriette's years of experience as a professional slaver told her that this girl was truly frightened and upset. It broke her heart a little bit. Or it would have if she had one. Because she didn’t. Honest!

She smiled reassuringly and got off the bed. “I'm not angry, honey, that was fun, I really needed that.”

Suddenly the girl threw off her glum expression and smiled brilliantly up at Harriette. “I thought so, I was right!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet and pumping a small fist in the air. Meadowlark had gone from downcast to bouncy and delighted in the space of a single heartbeat.

“You were, now up-up, stand up!” Harriette told her in a tender tone that one might use speaking to a child. For some reason, she was feeling very protective of this girl. Harriette knew what that meant, of course. She had a new favorite.

“Now raise your hands and stand still.”

Meadowlark immediately raised her hands over her head so Harriette could remove her night gown.

“Come on now, we need to get cleaned up and get to bed; it's late.”

The two women went to the bathroom and used hot washcloths to clean up.

“Mistress,” said Meadow tentatively, “I-I also took Miss Gwen's shoes. I put them up here in the bathroom so they wouldn't be downstairs where it's cold. Is that okay?”

“Sure, honey, it's fine. I saw them there earlier, thank you for telling me.”

“Am I going to sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course, dear; why do you ask?”

“Well, umm… I thought they might want to sleep in the bedroom, too, with their friends.”

“Of course, why don't you take them in and put them with their ‘friends’.”

Flashing a brilliant and grateful smile, the girl picked up the lavender pumps ran off to do so. Harriette shook her head. She really needed to keep an eye on this one. She didn't want her to develop slave mind. It would be a waste. She was too precious. Oh well, the decision was already made. Meadowlark would be her new bed-slave and sleep up here quite a bit. Harriette had every intention of keeping her close and keeping her safe.

When Harriette entered the bedroom, Meadowlark was on her knees arranging Gwen's lavender pumps on the folded skirt and placing the tiara atop them. She had a peaceful smile on her face and seemed really happy. That made Harriette glad.

“Meadow, go stand next to the bed, raise your arms over your head like you're one of the rustlers we caught earlier today. Good, now close your eyes. Squinch them… excellent. Very good.”

Harriette went past the surrendered girl to the closet and came back out wearing her own ankle-length night gown. She had another item in her hand.

Standing there wondering what was happening, Meadowlark suddenly felt the heavenly sensation of a circle of silk flowing down her body. If the cotton nighty was wonderful, this was heavenly.

“Hold still!” Harriette ordered the wiggling girl as she laced the back. Now her precious was wearing a pretty red slip that almost reached the bottoms of her round butt cheeks. Those cheeks were still bright red from her earlier spanking. Harriette liked it best that way. Spanked girls are cute girls.

Meadow gave Harriette a grateful smile, and they climbed into bed together. Harriette spooned the younger girl first, but after some reflection, Harriette decided something different was called for. She turned onto her back, and Meadowlark snuggled up under her arm with her face nuzzling Harriette's breast. That was better.

“Good night, sweet pea.”

“G’nite, Mistress. I love you,” the slave girl murmured sleepily. She probably wouldn’t even remember that in the morning, Harriette thought.

Harriette lay thinking for a bit. She had a lot to think about, as usual. Bearing the sole responsibility for hundreds of human lives is… burdensome.

At one point after the spanking, she realized that she was feeling motherly toward this girl. She knew that Meadowlark had a fraught relationship with her mom. She had even enslaved herself to escape from her mother's clutches. Harriette knew just how horrid the woman was because she had dealt with the viper herself in court. Meadowlark didn’t need to know that, so she hadn’t been told. Not everyone was willing to accept that one of their relatives would choose slavery over family. Harriette was a slaver’s slaver; she didn’t turn her property over to anyone without a fight.

Thinking long after the sweet girl in her arms had fallen fast asleep, Harriette decided that this precious creature needed a maternal figure in her life, and it was going to be Harriette. It was decided, it would be done. Mistress Harriette drifted off to sleep with her valuable possession snuggled up to her bosom.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-
End Part Five. Tomorrow – Pony-slave Yoga, Shopping, and More
-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Zee!

[JustBob]

I really enjoy how the Bellefleurs are stern, but benevolent slavers, with their charges coming out of slavery in better shape than they went in. I am looking forward to the rest of the story.

[ZeeChromosome]

I really enjoy how the Bellefleurs are stern, but benevolent slavers, with their charges coming out of slavery in better shape than they went in. I am looking forward to the rest of the story.

Thanks, Bob! I wasn't sure how that aspect of my vision would be received.

Callous and uncaring slavery can be more fun to read because it's scarier. I assure you that the uncaring slavers still exist. I just don't like them and I'm not going to write their stories.

I see this world as a maledom world. But "maledom" can also mean "paternalistic". Which is what I'm going for. Basically, the Reinstitution has caused society to begin the process of sorting itself. Men who were properly placed at the beginning of the change benefitted the most. Justin Bellefleur owned a successful insurance brokerage. When the debt slavery laws were enacted, he saw the opportunity and moved into debt consolidation. He buys up your debts, then calls you into his office and offers you choice between a payment plan and a collar.

Either way, Bellefleur Financial prospers. Also, because he is concerned about placement, sales take longer, but he makes more money on each sale. For example, a skilled IT professional is probably worth a lot more as a Special Talent slave than as a generic sex slave. So, he's willing to be patient and get the right placement... and the right price.

Thanks for the comment, I really appreciated it!

Zee

[jeepster]

The story I am waiting fo is Dr Isabelle/ Dizzy the next day! Now don't get me wrong I like every story you write but I really liked the direction that story was going!

[ZeeChromosome]

I know, Jeep, it's still in outline format. I've only just started writing again after a 6-month hiatus. Hoping to get back to that one soon. - Zee

[ZeeChromosome]

I just circled back and read this again - I love the interaction between Gwen and Sparrow and Avicia's lovely French accent - thank you!

True story, really happened: When I was working on my masters degree, one of our classmates was an international exchange student from France. One day, while a group of us were eating lunch, someone complimented her sexy accent and told her to say "Lick my boots".

She paused, frozen for a second, and we were all prepared to apologize profusely for the racist asshole among us... when she turned to him and sneered haughtily in her French accent, "Leek my boots".

Really happened. People fell out of their chairs laughing. Then, at the Halloween party, guess who showed up in a 100% authentic, leather-not-pleather, dominatrix outfit with genuine thigh-high boots? Do you have any idea how expensive those are?

The only possible conclusion is that either; (a) the poor college student went out and spent many hundreds of dollars on a Halloween costume, or (b) she already owned it, or (c) someone ELSE paid for it.

The decision is yours. What do YOU want to believe is true?

Zee