Ho 4 the Holidays Part 6 Registration, by Mavis, edited by Joe

[imreadonly2]

I want to start out by apologizing for being a terrible person. I was trying to write this and finish it before Christmas, but then I got into the story, and it ran long, and my real life consumed all my free time again. Mavis wanted to expand Brittany's character, which I thought was fun, since she'd take the story in a different direction with a different feel and aesthetic. It was in my universe, but it wasn't what I would have written, which was wonderful, and made it fun.

She kindly sent it to me for edits, and I did them, and didn't post forever. So that's on me. But I wanted to post what she had written (not all of it, but a lot of it) and thank her for her hard work and talent. Again, my apologies, but I'm heading out of town for another 9 days, so I'm going to vanish for again. But I did want to get her talent out there for everyone to enjoy. So my apologies, and my thanks!

County Line Bar Registration

I must have looked like a dumbstruck deer in the headlights as she sang that song and her eyes sprayed pure malice. She moved back to Mason and it was amazing that she could move in the tight space of the auction ring bystand with that kind of swing in her hips. Even I was staring and lifted my eyes while Mason was still staring at it with his jaw dropped.

The reality yanked me back or rather it was Emmet that had taken the leash from Mason while he was still occupied while looking at the swinging parts of his new girlfriend.

“Don’t stare at your betters bitch, how many times do I have to teach you to look down and show some damn respect?”, Emmet yelled at me.

As if to make a point he drew out a short piece of leather on a stick, also known as whip from one of the big pockets in front of his enormous belly and Hillbilly Santa moved up and let the whip land on my ass with a loud smack.

I was shrieking and nearly jumped forward at the sudden explosion of pain. Fat Santa raised the whip and let my ass feel a bit more of its taste. Mason stood there with his mouth wide open, I could see his concern, his care, the thought about calling this all off but at the same time I could see in his pants that this was better than he dared to have imagined and he stayed silent.

I was sobbing. A syrupy sweet voice and some claps came from Taylor. “Oh, what a bloody genius you are. A little color on her bottom will really enhance her backside, and make the buyers think of the possibilities.”

I was sobbing, struggling to rub my bottom with my hands cuffed behind my back. Taylor was unimpressed. Reaching out to wiggle my nose she teased, “What a little drama queen you are. It was just a little flick. Misbehave, and there is plenty more where that came from.”

Taylor’s tone was playful, as if this was all good fun, but I knew that was a front she was putting on as part of her seduction of Mason. Whenever she looked at him, she was sugar and spice, and whenever she looked at me, her eyes burned with the fire of female vengeance.

“Ho now, maybe we should take things ..”, Mason tried to intervene.

“Tut, tut honey”, Taylor interrupted, running her hand down his chest, “let Emmet do what he does best and that is giving animals the special treatment just as they need it. Besides we got some things to discuss so let’s forget about Blue State and let us come to talk about ….”.

My pussy was soaring again. This game had long since escalated but she wanted more. The reflection from the car was about to become reality and feeling the whip left me with tears streaking down but also more dripping down from a place far below. Being so totally under ones control and having sunk so deep in a place where nobody had any problem with me being whipped. I so wanted to rub my thighs together but that was not on the menu, not with Taylor there. She would know.

Taylor took her long red nailed fingers and turned Masons head from looking at me to her, using her lips to basically wrap over his in a deep kiss. Mason could not see but Taylor nodded to Emmet who nodded back. My panic was soaring more. What was Emmet up to? I was basically a claim ticket and a small mistake away from ending up far out of Mason’s reach on the pony farm of the blonde bitch.

Emmet led me away, a naked collared slave girl now marked by the whip as well without having any chance to catch my breath.

“Now keep up the pace, slave girl. Mason might have been gentle to you but that time is over. Better get used to taking orders, Miss California. You ayn’t better than me, no matter what you think.”

I wasn't sure what I had done to arouse such enmity. Yes, I was better than him — I was better than all of them, truly - but I had tried to not show it. I wondered if my attitude about him had seeped through, or Taylor had told him something, or both.” Whatever the reason, Emmet’s patience with the slave girl on the end of his leash was clearly exhausted.
He suddenly stopped and turned. I stopped as well, nearly bumping into his greasy, enormous belly. He grabbed one of my breasts and began roughly fondling it. I got the pleasure of smelling tobacco and BBQ sauce close again and his eyes which seemed now kinda dangerous.

“Listen up, Miss California”, he flicked the collar around my neck, “you ayn’t human any more, you are livestock like so many others around here. So better get used to the fact fast. There is no turning back. Mason might have had the hots for you but it seems you have been replaced fast. And stop thinking we do not know who you are. We have cell towers here and we are on Facebook, yanno? Mason and his California blond are kind of stars around here, flashing so nicely at all the events. Hanging out at the Super Bowl, and with all your movie star friends at those Oscar parties. You must think we’re shit under your boots. Well, you don’t have boots no more, so those days are over.

Emmet massaged my nipples to erection as he kneaded my breasts like dough. “Imagine the surprise that Miss California came to visit us today, and graced us with her presence. Well, yer’ a slave slut now, so forget about hanging around in posh LA clubs making fun of us real Americans out in the country. Ya stupid cunt have given Mason all rights and Miss Taylor will do the rest, so your perfect LA butt will be on the sale line soon and that means, your days as a human are finally over. Now y’all gotta advantage of you over most livestock here, you can listen and understand still, somehow at least. So there is only one question ya gotta answer while you still can. Are you going to make my life hard or easy?”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Or two. Mason wanted to protect me and keep our relationship secret. Our secret game. Now it was obvious it never was secret, it has always been known and if others know it Taylor surely knew it even better. Suddenly the collar grew so much heavier. Suddenly the game turned into reality. I could feel the steel of my collar tightening around my throat.

We exited the barn through a side door and exited in front a pigpen. The stink was unbearable.

“You gotta learn yer’ place, Miss California. Luckily, Mason’s old pal Emmet is here to help him out.”

To my horror, Emmet pushed me down to my knees in the dirt. I watched appalled as he began to undo his pants. Was he going to use my mouth? I was still too struck to think clearly but held still so he could undo my bit. I l closed my eyes, trying to imagine I was somewhere else as he fished his dirty old pecker out of his pants.

I flashed back to my life in LA. The party at 71Above was crowded, but all the right people were there.

“Timothée! It’s wonderful to see you again. I loved your new movie. If you don’t win the Oscar I’m telling Daddy he should buy the studio and fire them all for not promoting you enough. You should be a shoo-in!”

My eyes opened and I was taken back to the reality of where I was as I felt something warm. It only took me a moment to realize the old man was pissing on me. I flinched, but as I looked into his eyes I realized I did not dare move or flinch, as I lost the last bit of dignity and became in smell much more closer to the pigs. He did not piss on my face but on my body clearly marking me besides having used his whip on me.

His southern accent let him draw out the words. “Good girl. That will get rid of that fancy perfume smell. See how easy things are when you obey? It’s the easy path. Up on your feet you lazy slut.”

The Roja haute Luxe I had sprinkled on that morning cost $3,500 a bottle. Mason always teased me for putting on perfume before I ran, but it was a habit, and one never knew who you might run into in LA. I didn’t want to be caught smelling like an ordinary person. Now I smelled like a New York subway car.

I stood up and followed him back into the barn, still dumbstruck and piss dripping. i heard some laughter and a few wolf whistles but didn’t even dare to look around as I kept my eyes lowered. For the first time, even my pussy wondered what she had gotten us into.

Emmet took one of the keys and opened a door and the smell of livestock struck me. I had expected a barn where slave girls were registered but I was again remind that we were at the County Line Farm & Livestock. There was a lot of the latter in this barn, I saw cows chained to a bar, pigs in the back and even some horses. I could not take all the sight in as I heard a sizzling sound as a cow was freshly branded. My dumbfoundedness was replaced by panic again as I tried to move back trying to speak, but only voice of panic came out and I was no match for Emmet. He simply pulled the leash and I stumbled behind him. We moved to an area with some steel tables and a chair that was clearly not built for four legged livestock.

In that area stood another greasy person. It was unclear at first if that was a male or female but after turning and seeing the weird brown hair moving to all sides away from her head it could be seen that under her thick glasses she was indeed female.

“Hey Jean, how are things?”

“Slow today Emmet, most are here for the flea market not many livestock to mark. What’cha got here?”

Emmet turned and chuckled. “Fresh meat, directly from LA. To be registered and graded.”

Using my leash, Emmet roughly moved me around in a circle so Jean could get a good look at me, “Seems you have already shown this one that the party is over”; she chuckled, lightly brushing the welts on my ass with her fat fingers.

“Yeah it was necessary. Took the pictures already and the legal huffpuff has been taken care of as well, been tagged and collared as you can see. Need to get her tatted.”

The slaver looked at me with surprise, lifting my chin so I could meet her gaze. “Really? A girl yer’ age don’t have no lip tattoo? What’s that all about, sugar?”

“She’s a rich bitch from LA,” Emmet explained helpfully. “They don’t need to hock themselves out to the fuckin’ bank like the rest of us, cuz’ they are the bank. They think registration numbers are degrading.”

“Well, la-dee-dah!” Jean said, laughing at my tortured answer. “No worries, Miss 1%, Because I’m gonna to imprint yer’ future on yer’ lip… if it any’t to degrading… or even if it is, ha-ha.”

Emmet chuckled along and pulled me forward but Jean held up a finger. “Na na, not sitting on my stool dripping that disgusting pee.”

Emmet sighed, “Fine.”

He turned towards me. “On the ground pig, rub yourself on the ground until you are dry”

I had lost much of my pride already but the piss was still dripping from me as was the cunt drippings. I went to the ground and rolled on it much to the amusement of Jean and Emmet.

Emmet stopped my rolling with the tip of his boot. “That’s enough playing in the dirt, piggy. Get your pampered ass on the stool.”

I stood up and moved to rustic wooden stool by the wall, sitting down on the hard, worn seat. I hadn’t even noticed the hooks on the wall but Emmet pulled my head back and hooked my collar to them. Using leather straps bolted into the wall he locked my waist and ankles into place, so I was trussed up like a turkey. Jean was returning from her computer and was fumbling with my upper lip.

“Not the new buzzer for this bitch. Miss Taylor wants her to feel the good old way of getting a tattoo.”

Jean shrugged and moved to the side taking another device that looked much older and more grimy even in this place. “Normally I’m tattooing local girls for the bank. I any’t never got to tattoo a bank before. This is gonna be fun.



She shook the little pencil-like device. I strained my eyes to get a better look at it but could not follow all her movements. She turned and activated an old looking computer, with a floppy drive. Next to the computer was a box with a gray telephone line running into it. Emmet’s laptop out in the yard had been slightly more modern, as they needed to be able to process photos. This was like a trip to the Museum of Computing.

The computer did not turn on immediately so she had to wait a bit humming and treating all this as fully normal. I was ignored for the time being, unable to move or do anything anyway. I squirmed in my chair, the whip marks on my ass pressed hard against the unforgiving wooden stool.

As I watched the computer slowly go through it’s memory check and load the BIOS and strain to figure out what that new fangled floppy drive was, I ran my tongue over the inside of my lip, knowing that this was the last time it would ever be soft, smooth, and unblemished. When the computer finished it’s interminable dance, I’d be registered as a slave by this man-girl yokel.

I squirmed on my chair, feeling the bite of the whip. I was glad when Windows 95 finally loaded, because at last the wait was over, but I was also horrified as I slowly watched myself draw one step closer.

Jean had to turn the modem on and off a couple of times to get it to connect but at last it WHEED and BOOOPED and a text based screen for the National Slave Registry came up. I was amazed that an interface like this still existed, but that’s the government for you.

Helpless, I watched her log into the National Slave Registry and enter my data. She was a two fingered typist and the phone connection was slow. It was agonizing to watch. It hit me again that with every keystroke my registration came closer if not the next part of my enslavement. I swallowed and tried to relax, but instead sweated, and squirmed on my stool.

Emmet was holding me still in his tight grip obviously enjoying to feel my wriggling body while letting his body odor slowly waft over me. I am not sure that was an improvement towards the piss.

His hands were wandering a bit while his legs kept me in the iron vice. He was checking out my breasts and obviously enjoyed the detailed inspection as he kneaded them like pizza dough. He held me so tight that under his fat belly I could feel his cock getting hard and pushing against the pants and my back. I should have felt revulsion but I actually could my body feel betraying me again and straying upwards to feel more of his touch to offer him the feeling. For a moment I could feel the grip easing and his hands floating more naturally over me.

“Ok, we got the SIN for this little piglet”; Jean said with the biggest slur and stopped kind of Emmet and me rubbing on each other. I was kind of waking up and looking up wanting to clear my throat but trying that only made me suck more of the rancid drool from the bit down. Emmet seems to have been disturbed as well as he stiffened and let out a soft sigh.

Jean came back and moved down, a piece of paper in one hand and that pencil in the other. She looked at the paper and then at me, smiling in a predatory way. “Better to get this right, don’t cha think US-AK25-F4J71? Mixing those numbers up on your lips might have all kind of funny results for you in the future.” Her grin got more predatory and I heard Emmet let out a a hoary laugh as he put me more between his legs like a calf, grabbed my head and pulled my face up, one hand grabbing my upper lip and pulling it up.

My sweat started to go cold from hot hearing that number. It was a ‘smart key’ in that the first several digits followed a logical pattern.

US - I was registered in the United States
AR - I was registered in the sovereign state of of A
25 - the last two digits of the year

The last 5 digits alternated letters and numbers, like a Canadian zip code, as a built in check, and to increase the numbers of combinations available.

It was all very practical and logical, in a way that appealed to the lawyer side of my brain. If I was being sold in a slave market in Morocco or Hong Kong, they would immediately know where and when I was enslaved, and could derived my background or begin a trace there. I might have been a California girl, but today was the beginning of my new life, and I was about to be reborn as nArkansas slave pussy.

Of course, there was far more to it than my admiration of their keying system. This was not just a string of number. This was me. As a lawyer I knew about registers and deeds and leans and property interests, but this was not just something registered like a car, here I was the vehicle but with feelings.

Jean spoke to Emmet. “Hold it very tight, I have not used this thing in ages but it will be fun on lil’ Miss blonde to hear this piggy squeal.” She laughed and Emmet intensified his grip coming close to iron.

I could not move, I was happy I could breathe. The pencil started to hum or vibrate or whatever and came closer. Suddenly I felt panic trying to move, to wiggle but Emmet was smarter having seen it all in livestock and held me tight. Then the first sting let me think my lips exploded. It was a sting and a burn into sensitive flesh and it continued while I screamed. My screams were mixing with Emmet’s laughter, loud full laughter and the air being filled with the stench from the fat man.

I was screaming and shrieking while Jean tried to concentrate, tears streaming down my face as I felt the pain that was far away from a simple BZZZZZZ as promised. But what was as promised so far? This was not done quick and fast but slow and painfully and I dreaded what would be in store for me until I saw Mason again.

The marking seemed to last forever. I would have thought this much pain would cause me to die, or pass out, but it just went on-and-on, letter, number, letter, marking me as property that could be collateralized, bought, or sold.

The buzzing continued and then suddenly stopped. My lips felt the taste of alcohol and my eyes could not see with all the tears but then something soft and tender touched me. It was Jean carefully wiping my tears and then applying something to my lips to make them numb, take away some of the pain. I looked at her gratefully through all my tears.

She smiled and held the pencil device up. I could see blood dripping form it, My blood. She came close and I winced but she grabbed the lip very carefully and pulled it up studying what she had done.

“Yeah, that is very nice. Should last this pig a lifetime.”

Emmet let out a grunt. “Suits lil Miss California here right.”

Jean looked “Miss California? Is that the Californian queen from Mason Huckleberry?”

Emmet nodded. “Yes, live and in color honey.”

Jean was laughing, rather shrill looking at me in my mud and piss outfit. “This is rather different than the high class photos she put on that social media shit. I thought Taylor was gonna shoot lightening out of her eyes when she showed me.”

I felt new tears coming. She was hushing me and wiped more of the tears and the drool from my mouth.

“A golden butterfly stuffed into a slave girl cocoon. How did this miracle come to pass?”

Emmet laughed again, the voice full of amusement. “I ayn’t too sure myself. Seems she got her first taste of slavery from spending Thanksgiving on the Huckleberry farm and asked Mason to be brought here for registration. Unfortunately for Miss Golden State Taylor came around and decided to have a piece of Mason again and she was in the way. So here we are.”

My heart was beating as Jean caressed my face nearly gently moving some strands of hair away. That way she could see the heavy steel collar around my neck. She touched the collar and moved her fingers back up then to my forehead caressing me nearly gently. “This poor thing, does it have any idea what is in store for her? Taylor’s really built up a head of steam. I know some of what she said she’d like to do, and it any’t pretty.”

Emmet shrugged. “Nobody forced her to do anythin’. She got into this herself and looking at the leaking pussy she wants to go deeper. Look at this.” He moved back a bit and showed the front of his pants. They were dark and wet. I must have rubbed my pussy on him without thinking. I was blushing and wanted to lower my head but Emmet grabbed it again.

“Can we continue?”, he asked with the deep southern brawl.

“Are you sure this should be done” It is not on the clipboard.”, asked Jean with a lowered voice.

Emmet nodded. “I am totally sure, this will be a little surprise from Miss Taylor to her new boyfriend.”

“Her new boyfriend? But is Mason not together with this bitch here? Her snatch should be giving him lots of fun.”

Emmet laughed and brawled out with the deep Alabama accent. “That ship has sailed I think. Taylor was snogging his lips like there was no tomorrow. Mason did not seem to mind and kissed back as if he head waited for some real Alabama sugar after all this shallow California coating.”

My heart was stung.

“So can we continue with this little enhancement?”

“Sure thing”, said Jean as she stood up and moved to her tool table again.

Continue? They tattooed me and now they should take pictures and measure me? Continue with what? My heart began to beat again more and I wanted to speak but the numb lip and the bit did not let me form any coherent words. All that came out was some animal sound.

Emmet laughed and grabbed my face. Jean turned and I could see pliers in her hands. I wanted to buck, to move and tried to but Emmet’s grip was better in any way. She came closer and I could feel the cold iron of the pliers. On my nostrils. The next thing I knew was pain much worse than the tattoo and kind of like piercing my ears. Then I felt blackness as I gave in to the pain.

Sometime later.

“Wakey wakey lil cow!”, I heard a voice through the fog, a sweet malicious voice like the ice queen. I opened my eyes. My whole face was painful and I was on the ground. Opening my eyes they stung as the light got in. I saw some blonde curls and Taylor’s face with a broad grin under it. She was squatting and looking at me. I wanted to get up and away, panic stricken. I moved up suddenly and felt another jolt of pain after that I heard a shriek in the hall that came from my lips.

I felt a pain in my face as it was yanked by a heavy chain, But what was that. Something was laying on my upper lip, I could feel the chain directly dangling against my lips. But my hands, my hands were free. I moved them to my face, still shocked and felt something on my upper lip and a pain in my nose touching it. I felt around and felt a ring. A deep heavy ring had been pierced through my septum and was laying against my upper lip, a chain attached to it. I followed the chain with my eyes. It went to a ring above an iron ring on a pole. I was laying on the ground, chained, naked and not too far from some bulls with nose rings as well that were chained to similar rings.

Above me was Taylor. Her blonde hair framed her face but her clothing had changed. She wore red leather cowboy boots and tight leather hot pants, in red as well. A tight top showing off her perky breasts with a vest above it and a stetson on her head. She was looking like, going to a party, a dance. That was explaining why I heard some music in the background and obviously people having fun.

I tried to move but more careful now. Knowing a heavy chain was attached to a heavy ring pierced through my septum was making me more than careful.

“Awww. Blue State learning the reality of her place.” She tilted her head a bit and whispered nearly although only the bulls seemed to be able to hear. “You are asking yourself, how I got in here if it was only for employees only?” She laughed again, this time more malicious. “Well honey, guess whose daddy owns this place? Damn right bitch!”

She stood up, stretched her long legs. I had to admire those legs, they were defined and endlessly long. I stared up to her. A dirty cow, laying on the ground, noseringed staring up to her and drooling from the bitted mouth. She turned and I could see that perfect ass in the tight leather hot pants.

“You were out for some time Blue State. Mason was worried but Emmet assured him all was normal they were just taking more time with you. The day has closed outside and we are having the barn dance. Yes, good ol line dance. I am to meet Mason, how do you think will he react to this outfit?”

She slapped her own butt and I cringed at the sound and saw how that might affect Mason. I was even thinking what he might be telling Ma where I was. Though I have an idea that she kinda knew what I was getting into. She looked fabulous. There was no way Mason would be able to keep his hands off that butt. I was swallowing. What was happening? What kind of game was this? I looked up to her. No longer the hillbilly ho but a Goddess standing in front of me. My pussy was reacting as well and I could see the reflection from the car again. If I could not fight it, why not enjoy the ride.

She squatted again looking at me. “I know I look fabulous bitch but I need more time and that is the reason why I have come. Tomorrow, when you see Mason again, you will tell him you want to be pony trained. On my ranch.”

Her tone was suddenly serious. I was staring. She was not all powerful. She had flaw. She needed my help.

“You will be asking yourself, why you should do this. The answer is simple. Because I got this.” She held a slip of paper in her hand, I looked up and my eyes widened. It was the claim ticket.

“You will beg to be trained on my ranch for a few days and I will return this safely to Mason so that you do not get lost and he can get you back. If this gets lost, you will be processed and land wherever. If he can do anything it will be much too late. You beg for that and you have my word that you will be treated fairly.”

“But there’s another reason, too. I can see how wet you are. A big part of you wants to be humiliated, don’t ya?”

I groaned as she rubbed the toe of her boot against my bare pussy, moving it around till she found my clit. I didn’t want to shame myself in front of Taylor, but I couldn’t help myself! Groaning with pleasure and humiliation, Taylor laughed at me as I humped her boot.

I whimpered in frustration as she pulled her boot away, which left me humping the air. “A lotta fellas round here marry the girl they should and fuck the slave they shouldn’t. Who know, maybe if you end up on my pony farm full time, you’ll get more time with Mason’s tool than you do now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you go… I’m just sayin’, that’s all.”

She looked into my eyes. I could not believe all this was happening. Taylor, the arch enemy I had and did not even know about for years was suddenly offering me a deal.

“What securities do you have Blue State? None, absolutely none. But I am an Alabama girl and here a word means something. So if I give you my word it means something. Do we have a deal Blue State?”

I do not know why but I slowly nodded.

“Fabulous”. She smiled and stood up, simply left me behind and sauntered to the dance in her red hot pants leaving me behind naked and chained on the ground.

[jeepster]

Awesome chapter!

[Jim927]

Another great chapter. Please continue.

[cardman314]

Loving where this could be heading. I hope when she gets to the ranch, she gets a full set of rings, i.e. nips, hood, labia. Her ponygirl name should be tattooed on her left breast and she should get Mason's brand on her left butt cheek and Taylor's brand on her right. Finish it off with a proper mane haircut and matching tail plug. Removing a couple of molars so the bit fits perfectly is optional. (I'd never remove her arms as some authors have in the past as only SHOW PONIES need arms. Maybe she, in her vanity, would accept a couple of years on the show pony circuit). Depending on how you want to carry on, permanent Devoxing would end her law career forcing her to accept her fate. Photos and videos on social media are a must and maybe even a picture of her pulling a fancy, white surrey with Taylor and Mason in wedding attire. Or maybe not? 5/5

Maybe Mason likes the pony training idea and edges Taylor into tandem training on her own ranch to the delight of her father. In the end, Mason takes Taylor back to the market to register as a slave and ends up keeping them both. Oh, so many storylines come to mind. I know you'll pick a doozey.

[Malvis]

Yes, you used a lot of the material indeed but there is so much more where that is coming from already. The path has been moved on forward and will be told in due time. Thanks Joe for the wonderful edit, you let the rawness that I sent you shine!

[Jim927]

Mavis, you and Joe are making for a great partnership with the writing of this story. I so hope the two of you continue to work together to continue this store and bring it to completion.
Jim

[GatewayGuy]

I got a little confused, are Taylor and Brittany the same person?

[Malvis]

Yes, her name is Taylor Brittany.

[Mr. Smith]

Cardman,

You definitely need to write a ponygirl story. Removing molars, shaving the side of the head, tattooing the pony name on the breast, and piercings are hardcore. Piercings take some time to heal. That being said, I didn't see a septum piercing coming. I'm not sure how long "Miss California" will be a ponygirl but nipple clamps with bells are a short term remedy for her ponygirl experience.

I am curious to see where the authors take this story as it is full of surprises.

[cardman314]

Mr. Smith,

I did in 2009 and posted it to GrometsPlaza.net. It was about the ponygirl culture of John Willie's age. It was primarily about dressage, show ponies and racing ponies, all voluntary activities. There was a mention of California starting a voluntary program where certain, non-violent prisoners were offered ponygirl status in exchange for a decrease in their sentences, saving the state $80,000/ year. I migrated it over to Literotica last year. It was entitled HUMAN INTEREST. It had everything except piercing below the navel.

[Mr. Smith]

Cardman,

I located "Human Interest" and will read it. I'm at the point where there are no ponygirl boots that fit Christine, so Lindsey will become the ponygirl for the weekend. That likely isn't a coincidence but I'll find out.

I've dabbled with ponygirls in a couple of chapters collaborating with Carl Bradford regarding the Breeding Barn Cafe and the activities that go on there with an emphasis on including FINO slaves (aka wives, hotwives, ....). I find that turning slaves into ponygirls further dehumanizes them in a way that can be fun to write about while allowing your characters to feel a mixture of fear and sexual arousal depending on the individual and the circumstances. I confess the visualization of Kate Upton as a ponygirl with vaginal and nipple piercings that could be used to control her during dressage events was too mouthwatering to exclude. I'm also hoping to see Jennifer put through her paces in this story with bells tinkling from her nipples while the bit causes her to drool on herself wearing blinders so she cannot see who is watching her display as she learns to "trot" while feeling the bite of the lash when she doesn't keep her knees high enough. Then there is the breeding bench.

I would love to see you write a ponygirl story in the legal slavery universe, and I mean that as a compliment to your writing skills.

[Malvis]

Cardman,

You definitely need to write a ponygirl story. Removing molars, shaving the side of the head, tattooing the pony name on the breast, and piercings are hardcore. Piercings take some time to heal. That being said, I didn't see a septum piercing coming. I'm not sure how long "Miss California" will be a ponygirl but nipple clamps with bells are a short term remedy for her ponygirl experience.

I am curious to see where the authors take this story as it is full of surprises.

You are right the septum ring is something that will be a surprise for Mason. But a septum piercing can easily be removed is not visible and can heal as long as there are no gromets inserted as well. Jenn will have to find her way along losing more power and enjoying more excitement from the humiliation she so craves. And there is the problem with the trust issue with Taylor but how bad can it be?

[cardman314]

As for a ponygirl story in the legal slavery universe, I have one coming, but it is at least a month away. The title is PRICE VS. COST and the count is at 18K. It will probably end up being about 60K +/-. "Joe" wrote about 5k in the introduction.

[RegressedNegress]

Enthralling. Such a great dynamic going. Anxiously anticipating seeing where this goes.

[Malvis]

Enthralling. Such a great dynamic going. Anxiously anticipating seeing where this goes.

I guess deeper down the rabbit hole or rather stable?

[lovethissite]

i love the idea of multiple piercings nipples and labia good way to control a pony.

[Malvis]

i love the idea of multiple piercings nipples and labia good way to control a pony.

That might come later this is way down the road?

[Paa]

Hello, I've been reading Joe's stories for a long time and they are the best. Although English is not my language, I translate and read them. Please continue with my wife's hospitality and ho4, thank you.

[Malvis]

Can't say for sure for Hospitality (which I hope will be written further) but ho4 is surely going forward.