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Note: Please ignore the "-" between paragraphs. It's an artifact of my shitty word-processor. I need to do it to maintain paragraph spacing. Because shitty word processor.
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So I was chatting via email with Mr. Smith and Carl Bradford regarding various topics / story issues in a legal slavery universe and the subject came up of what happens when a slave is impregnated by a free person (or vice versa). I argued that, since a slave has no rights and no ability to refuse sex then, legally, the resulting child should create zero parental rights or child support obligations for the slave when their indenture is up. It just makes sense. Yeah, it's pretty shitty, but that's slavery for you.
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Then the following exchange took place:
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Carl: "I am not touching a male slave getting a free woman pregnant."
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Zee: "Now THAT is the kind of slavery I can support whole-heartedly - "What? Child support for you and all 4 of your bridesmaids and both of your sisters and your mom? Naw..." It's the Field of Dreams. Write it and they will come..."
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Please note that Carl is way classier than me. He just is.
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The damn idea wouldn't leave my head. My brain works that way. I tried to make it make sense. In what possible universe does this even work? Then I spent the next few days driving alone for 32 hours to 7 different states. I composed (not "wrote") an entire story in my head and I needed to get it out of my head so I started writing it when I got home. It requires a male protagonist (because penis). So yeah, the male protagonist is the one who gets strip-searched and humiliated. I recognize that it's not nearly as sexy as when it happens to a pretty girl, but I needed a penis. So there's that. Don't worry, lots of pretty girls are getting naked in the story because it's a pony story and that's the rule.
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Anyhow, this is a pony story and ponies come in two main varieties - pleasure ponies and performance ponies. Pleasure ponies' main purpose in life is to look sexy and hot while they pull your buggy around and you watch their bunz and boobies bounce before you fuck them. Pretty simple. They're just boring sex objects and fuck-holes. Pardon the crudity, but that's 90% of pony porn. Performance ponies, on the other hand, need to win dressage competitions and races, so they're in an entirely different class of pony slave.
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As I envision it, all female ponies and all male pleasure ponies are required by the Pony Ranchers Association to have long-term, 100% effective birth control.
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But not stallions. You know why? Because manly. And because pregnancy-risk sex is apparently a super-exciting thing that a lot of women are into. At least the fantasy of it. Tumblr informed me of this, so it must be true. So stallions need to be un-broken slaves, strong and fierce, ready to do battle or win races. After the race, they don't go back to the stables and get a hand job or fuck (not "breed") an infertile pony-slave as a reward, they go back to the stables and then breed the hottest and highest-paying freewoman pussy in the stadium (okay, highest paying, whatever). And when I say "breed" I mean "fill them with his fertile seed." Birth control is the free woman's responsibility, not his. It's up to her and he has no control over it. Nor does he care. He's a slave and he fucks what you point him at. And some day, when he's a free man, and you show up looking for monthly paychecks, he walks away.
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Enough explanation, on with the show. Main character is named Hank and here is his first day as a racing stallion:
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SCENE ONE
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Arrival:
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It had only been a four hour drive from Lawton to Waco, but the entire trip had passed in complete silence. Jim Starkel turned off the engine of his truck and stared out at the parking lot of the auction house where the Southwest Regional Pony Auction was being held. Coming from a farming family, Jim had always loved such events. There were so many people to see, so many things to do, corndogs, fry cakes, brightly-colored flags and tents. This auction had all those things and quite a bit more, but today it just left a dead feeling in his stomach. Because today his brother was going to sell himself into slavery.
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He turned at looked at his brother in the seat next to him. Hank was his little brother. Well, not so little any more, but Jim could still kick his ass if had a mind to, which he didn't. Hank had been silent the entire trip, just staring out the window. Maybe he thought he would never see these sights again. Or maybe he was just storing up memories of freedom for the next four years. Hank had always been a mystery to him. That shouldn't have been true for two brothers who had a close relationship like their own, but it was. There had always been a hidden depth to Hank that only rarely came out where others could see it. He was a thinker, whereas Jim had always been an exuberant doer and liver of life. Now Hank was thinking and Jim decided to give him a little more time so he just rolled down the windows to get some breeze and waited.
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Hank had a small folder in his hands, He didn't open it, he knew what was inside - the self-indenture papers. He had signed them, he had committed himself, he was going to follow through with it. It had not been the only path forward for him, but he had chosen it anyway. With his grades, test scores, and athletic ability, he probably could have gotten a scholarship at just about any college in the Southwest. Except University of Texas. No Lawton boy would stoop that low.
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Instead he had chosen to take a gap year and help work on the family farm. It shouldn't have been necessary, but it was. Their father had invested his savings with a man from his lodge who promised "unbelievable returns" on his investment. Jim Starkel, Sr. shouldn't have believed it, but he did and a lot of other people did, too. The investments never existed and a lot of good, hard-working people had lost everything.
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Then a strange woman approached Hank at the Oklahoma state track championships after he won the 800-meter and one mile races for the second year in a row. She bought him a corn dog and a sports drink, and then she made her sales pitch. But she wasn't trying to sell something to Hank, she was trying to buy Hank. And he listened to her. Had she known about the Starkel family finances? Who knows? Slavers don't know everything, but they're well-connected in ways that not everyone realizes.
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And now here they are, at a livestock auction. But the livestock being sold wasn't the four-legged kind, it was the two-legged kind, human chattel... slaves.
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Hank checked the time on his phone while he fiddled thoughtfully with the white plastic tag around his neck, flipping it with his fingers. It was ten o'clock. Jim wore a similar tag around his neck, but his had "Delivery and Exit" printed in black lettering on it. Hank's tag read "Delivery Only, No Exit" in big red letters, front and back. Finally Hank spoke, "We've got until three o'clock according to the papers, but the guard at the gate was pretty firm when he said 'Make your delivery and go.' I had hoped to spend an hour of two with you just walking around, enjoying the sights, maybe get a corn dog for lunch, but now I don't think that's a good idea. On the other hand, I don't see any harm in us sitting in the truck for a while. It might be a while before we talk again."
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"Well," Jim said, "you weren't very talkative on the way down."
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"Yeah, I got a lot on my mind. Might have something important coming up," Hank chuckled ruefully. "Let's go over the plan before we die of heat-bite in this here truck."
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"It's 'frost-bite,' numb nuts, or rather 'heat stroke' you're thinking of."
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"Yeah that," Hank said, failing to laugh. It had always been one of the things Jim loved about him, his ability to twist words and ideas into endless foolishness even though Jim knew damn well he knew exactly what he was doing.
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Then he suddenly turned serious and the blank energy he had been putting off for the last few hours simply went away. Hank turned in the seat to sit half-facing his older brother and looked him in the eyes. "This is the plan, this is how it works. I know we already went over this a dozen times, but this is our last chance to talk for who knows how long Jimbo, you got it?"
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Jim nodded.
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"So here's the deal. Slaves who are voluntary indentures and not criminals or debt slaves have to be sold at auction their first time. That way the State of Texas guarantees that the seller - that's me - got a fair price. So tomorrow or the next day, I dunno how long initial processing takes place, I go up for auction and I get sold."
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"Words you never want to hear from a relative," thought Jim, "Tomorrow I get sold." He didn't say anything, though, just nodded his head that he understood.
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Hank watched him nod, then continued, "First of, there's a reserve price. It's fifty thousand dollars. The recruiting stable has to meet that bid, then the real auction begins. The fifty grand is also my signing bonus, it goes directly into my bank account, which Dad can sign for, got it? After that, any additional sales price goes into my account one bit at a time as I complete my indenture. So if I get a good price, that money is ours, too, as long as I don't do something to forfeit the contract like punch out an overseer or something, got it? Okay, so in addition to that money, I get 5% of winnings, but that money only becomes mine if I win races. So I need to work hard, train hard, and then race hard, right?"
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"How much do you think that'll be?"
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Hank laughed. This time it was a real one. It made Jim relieved to see it - his little brother was still in there.
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"Jimbo, I have no idea and it doesn't really matter, I might sprain my ankle first time out of the starting gate. What I do know is that the first 50 grand is guaranteed, and that's actually decent price on a four year contract for a male high school graduate with zero job experience or credentials."
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"You sure you don't just want to leave?"
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"Yeah bro, I'm sure. And if I wasn't, we wouldn't make it far, there's a heck-ton of gunslingers wandering around here. There's one looking at us right now, so I think our sitting in the truck and talking time has run out."
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Jim looked up, surprised, then tried to look not-guilty as he realized that there was a sheriff deputy looking right at him. Everyone knows that look and that stance. It's the "I think you're suspicious" look and when you get that from a Texas law enforcement officer, you need to move along smartly. One of the things that always impressed Jim about his little brother was his ability to focus intently on one thing without forgetting the peripherals. It was a skill that had served him well on the football field and on the track. He always seemed to know where everyone was, even the guy behind him.
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"Fine, c'mon Hank, I'll walk you in."
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"Thanks, man, I appreciate that," Hank responded, his voice suddenly choked with emotion. "Thank you so much for being here with me, right now, in this place. I really, really..."
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Jim cut him off with a hug. A big hug. A big brother's hug. "Hank, where the Hell else in the world could I possibly be?"
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After a moment, they broke the hug and Hank quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. "Damn wind, got something in my eye."
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"Yeah," Jim said copying the gesture, "Fucking Texas, we don't have wind like this in Oklahoma."
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The two young men began walking toward the tents, which seemed to be arranged in a sort of semi-circle around the back end of the parking lot. Hank slipped a quick peek behind him in order to verify that the deputy had quickly and expeditiously... done exactly nothing. Still there, still watching, arms akimbo... bored and looking for someone to shoot. "Welcome to Texas," Hank thought, "Come visit us in a real state on your next vacation, see how much we like that."
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After a bit of brotherly banter, they decided to start on the right and work their way toward the left. Hank knew exactly where the Double H Ranch had set up their tent, but pretending not to know gave him a few more precious minutes with his older brother. He would cherish those minutes during the years ahead, so he needed to make the most of them.
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Many of the larger ranches had set up booths or tents in the grassy area around the parking lot where they displayed their wares, conducted business, and socialized. Pony play is a sport for the wealthy, and the social aspect is just as important as the actual ponies. Many booths displayed their most attractive pleasure ponies on mobile equipping frames, which were basically St. Andrews crosses covered in attachment points. Ponies are generally bound to the frames for washing and equipping. Although the pony is normally bound face down for equipping, these display ponies had been mounted on the frames facing outward so that prospective buyers and clients could see how attractive they were and enjoy poking and groping the humiliated ponies. Ranches were permitted to display up to two slaves at a time. As Hank and Jim walked past the displays, they could see a lot of naked and humiliated fillies, as well as a few colts.
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Jim was simultaneously intrigued, aroused, and disgusted by what he saw there. He spotted a well-dressed couple discussing a purchase with a rancher while the couple took turns casually stroking the erect penis of one of the colts.
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Jim was agog. "Dude, are they going to do that to you... in public like that?" Hank kept on walking, refusing to look, which forced Jim to run and catch up. "I dunno Jimbo, but I've got a "no homo" clause in my contract, so I won't have to worry about it. The whole point of being a stallion is that you need to be aggressive, competitive, unbroken, and powerful. Breaking a guy down like that is a bad idea, so they don't do it. Unless he likes it of course, not that there's anything wrong with that."
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"You sound like you got that sentence out of their sales pitch."
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At this, Hank stopped and looked at him. "So what if I did? If they're crooked and they do me wrong, I just throw the races. Let 'em whip me all they want, I'll take 4th place every time. They want to win, I can do that. I took state champ two years in a row and I'm not some skinny little whippet. They need a miler with big shoulders to carry the load and that's me. That's why they recruited me straight out of high school. They even had people at the state championships to get an eyes-on look at the runners. I have talent and I can use it to make money to help pay off the family's debts. Remember, 'Family above all else", that's what Grampy used to say, and that's what I'm doing. So what if I have to run around naked for a few years to get it? If I win races, I'll have money in the bank and the land will be safe for another generation. That means your kids, bro... and any kids I might have some day, who knows? This needs to be done and I can do it, so I will."
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"All right, bro, I get it and I'll support you 100%, that's what I'm here for."
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To their right was a pretty filly being pleasured by a naked female groom while her owner made a sales pitch to an interested couple. A groom slowly ran a tiny pink vibe up and down her smooth dripping opening, building her arousal almost to the edge, then slowly backing off. The pony's face burned with equal parts shame and arousal as the groom relentlessly toyed with her in front of the group of clothed strangers. "As you can see, this little ponyslut is hot to trot, she's so eager that she practically prances up to the breeding bench every time. Her tongue is equally skilled, Ma'am, and she loves to service women as well as men. We've trained her in all sorts of equestrian pursuits, but this kind of pure exhibitionist wantonness is part of her natural condition. You can follow her down the road from the dripping faucet between her legs... be sure you water her plenty when you go out for a run, though, as she tends to get a bit dehydrated from all that sloppiness..." The rancher placed a hand on the groom's neck and, with that signal, the groom swiftly attacked the moaning pony's hot button, triggering a shrieking neigh, shuddering convulsions, and a huge gush of fluids onto the grass. "... and she's a natural squirter. Didn't make that up, folks, you saw her do it right here just now and I figure we can get one or even two more out of her today. For now, though, she needs to rest for her next performance." The rancher paused while the groom began to detach the pony from the frame and a pair of large, muscular ranch hands lowered her down to the grass and escorted her away on wobbly hooves. "Wash her up, feed and water her, bed her down for a bit and have her back out her in an hour, I want her at her peak performance," he ordered them sharply. "As you can see, you just can't train that into them, this one is a natural pleasure slut but better, since she is pony trained. What are your thoughts, are you interested? I'll be auctioning her off this afternoon, so check your schedules and don't be late."
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"Holy shit, Hank, did you just see that? Did we just see that? That was porn star hot! And it happened right in front of us!" Hank wasn't paying attention to him, he was perusing the folder of documents in his hand. One of them was on Double H letterhead and it had the ranch's logo and brand on it, an elongated H with two crossbars on it inside of a diamond. He stepped back and peered over the crowd looking for a flag with that brand and saw it down near the end of the row, where some of the larger tents were.
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"Yeah Jimbo, we just saw that. I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of it over the next couple of years," he replied in a distracted tone. "Let's get this thing over with and you can go home and explain it to Mom and Dad."
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They start walking again, but Jimbo's mind was elsewhere. "I mean, did you see that? Do you believe that girls like that actually exist? How much do you think she'll go for, a million? Just think what you could do with that kind of money!"
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"Jim, she doesn't get any of that money, or she probably won't anyway. The banks repo girls like that for 20 grand, then turn around and sell them for far more than that. Do you think she gets any of that money? The answer 'no' and you know it. The bank keeps the money. That's why they're so hot to lend money to pretty girls... and pretty boys, for that matter. Get them tied up in debt, repossess them, sell them to the highest bidder, and pocket the difference. At least our debts are tied to the land. The only thing the bankers can do to us is take our land away from us. I have a plan to prevent that, I just need to see this thing through." With that, he turned and strode toward the Double H tent, dodging ranch hands, naked ponies, and well-dressed gentry.
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Jimbo quickly followed in his wake, shaking his head as he tried to get the image of the thrashing pony girl out of his head. "Right, let's do this. When does Dad get the money?"
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Hank stopped suddenly, causing Jim to nearly run into him. He gave his brother a serious look, putting his hand on his shoulder. "When they sell me, probably tomorrow. The fifty grand reserve price goes directly into my account and then to Dad. Make sure he understands why I did this, otherwise it's all for nothing. I do NOT want to hear that he just sat on the cash and didn't use it. All he needs to do is hold onto it in a separate account and use it if our payments are going to fall short. It's enough to cover six months of our loan payments. That's what this money is for. It's insurance, just in case. We'll all sleep easier knowing we have some cushion again. He never should have invested in that... never mind, not his fault, he just trusted the wrong guy. I hope that fucker is enjoying his lifetime of slavery, but that doesn't get our money back."
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"Naw, he won't enjoy it, didn't you hear?"
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"No, what happened?"
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"He was bought by a company that provides services to nursing homes. His job is to provide oral services to incontinent old people, they're calling him Larry the Licker now."
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Hank snorted and made a disgusted face. "Eww, I really did not need to know that. Nevertheless, I hope he suffers for every penny he stole from us and people like us. C'mon, we keep getting distracted."
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They had finally arrived. The cobalt blue Double H flag waved smartly in the breeze above their heads. In front of the tent was a fancy two-person carriage with two naked pony girls harnessed to it. They were a matched pair of busty blondes with large bare breasts pierced with rings that held small tinkling bells. Additional strings of tiny golden bells dangled from their pierced belly buttons and labia. Their flawless, lightly-tanned skin glistened with some kind of oil, "Probably sunscreen," Hank thought, and they had bright feather plumes on their head harnesses. Unlike some of the ponies they had seen, their long thick hair wasn't shaved on the sides, but rather drawn up into some kind of comb affixed to their bridles that lifted and fanned it out into a glorious mane. Both of these girls was extremely fit and either could easily find work as swimsuit models. Their harnesses were made of expensive, silky-smooth leather and the metal pieces were studded with rhinestones. Both were tied to a lead rope being held by a naked female groom who eyed them suspiciously but otherwise looked bored. In her other hand she held a spray bottle to keep the ponies cool standing is the hot Texas sun.
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The prancers and the groom all had the the Double H brand on their left butt cheeks.
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Jimbo's overwhelmed brain simply refused to function at this point. "Hank, these girls could pose in magazines, how could they end up here?"
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"Who knows? Like I said, 20 grand in credit card debt and you're slave pussy for a couple of years, none our business, let's go inside."
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"You two looking for work? Ranch foreman's inside," the groom said to them. Clearly she had assessed them as "Not Rich People".
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While Jimbo remained distracted and didn't hear her, Hank turned and smiled at the girl, offering his hand. "Hi, my name's Hank Starkel and I guess I am looking for work. Do you like working a the Double H?"
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She refused the handshake by putting her hands behind her back and informed him matter-of-factly that "Slaves don't shake hands with free persons."
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"Oh, sorry, I don't know all the rules yet."
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The girl looked at him curiously, noting his height, fitness, and the breadth of the shoulders under his shirt. Then, somewhat disconcertingly, she gave his muscular thighs and crotch bulge an appraising up and down glance. "You're the new stallion, aren't you?"
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"I guess so, I mean we shook hands on it and signed the papers, so here I am." From the tone of his voice, it was clear to her which of two steps was the more important. In the agricultural community, a reputation for fair dealing was of paramount importance, and a man whose handshake wasn't as binding as a signed document quickly found himself without friends.
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"Well I'm Kathryn and this is Holly and Molly, I'm sure we'll get to know each other real good over the next 2 years. I've got 2 years left on my contract and then I'm free with money in my pocket. Holly and Molly have three years left to learn the lesson that being drunk won't make your shitty Honda faster than a state trooper's patrol car. Go inside and see Boss Chowser, he's the ranch foreman, he'll get you started. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you very soon."
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She turned to Jim. "What about you, you looking for work?"
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"Umm, no, someone needs to stay and help Dad run the farm, I'm Hank's brother and now that he's selling himself off... so umm, yeah."
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Hank turned to his brother and told him to "Wait here, I'll have them send my clothes out. I'd like to have something to wear when I'm done with all this."
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"Those jeans aren't going to fit you," interjected Kathryn.
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"What do you mean?"
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"What I mean is you've got nice legs and they fill out those snug jeans really well, but after four years of pony training you're going to be a lot thicker in the thigh than you are now... not to mention thicker in the crotch as well."
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Hank was puzzled by her comments. "'Thicker in the crotch', what does that mean?"
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"If you don't know, you soon will, let's just leave it at that," the groom replied mysteriously as a small smile crept up the side of her face. One of the prancing ponies whinnied in amusement. Hank couldn't see which one it was, but the little groom knew exactly who it was and flicked the end of the reins at the girl's thigh. "Hush, you." The relationship between the ponies and the groom seemed almost friendly, and it calmed the knot in Hank's stomach just a little bit.
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"All right Jim, I'm going in." He stuck out his hand to his brother and was a bit surprised when Jimbo instead pulled him into a deep hug.
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"We'll be here for you went you get out, little brother, take good care of yourself and don't get hurt."
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"Don't worry, sir, he'll be well cared for. Racing stallions are extremely valuable and we won't let anything happen to him. Thanh is going to be his groom and she's extremely hard working and conscientious."
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As Hank stepped into the tent, he noticed that it was surprisingly cool inside as a large fan blew cool air in the back. "Fancy," he thought, "an air-conditioned tent." Most of the tents he had seen so far had their sides rolled up for the breeze, but now he could see why this one did not. He felt like a ranch that could afford an air-conditioned tent could probably afford to take good care of their livestock. "Now we just need to find out if they want to."
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The walls were covered in posters advertising the ranch's amenities and displayed rows of trophies and ribbons. On the left, in front of the fan, was one of the ubiquitous restraining frames that he had seen several ponies attached to on his way here. At the back of the tent was a large folding desk with two people behind it. On Hank's left was a large man with bushy eyebrows and a shaved head. He had a surprisingly pale forehead and deeply-tanned face, the clear mark of a man who spent his days outdoors wearing a hat. On his right was a naked middle aged Black woman sitting behind a laptop computer. Electrical and computer cables dangled from the desk and piles of papers held down with paperweights covered it. They seemed quite busy with their heads together behind the computer screen and Hank decided to look at some of the posters while he waited for them to notice him.
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It didn't take long.
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"Can I help you?" barked Boss Chowser.
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"Oh, uh, yessir, my name is Hank..." he began.
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"...Starkel, I know." the Boss cut him off. "Welcome to the Double H Ranch family. I'm Boss Chowser, you can address me as 'Sir' or 'Boss' is that clear?"
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"Yessir."
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"Alrighty, Agatha, do we have Hank's folder... oh, good." He turned back to Hank and waved the manila folder at him. "Have you read this contract, and do you understand it?"
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"Yessir, I believe so."
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"Good, because you've already signed it and - because you have just walked into this tent - you are now bound by it for the next four to five years whether you understand it or not. It'll just save you some misunderstandings and whippings if you know what you're supposed to do."
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"Yessir."
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Boss Chowser nodded, pursing his lips while he gave Hank the same sort of livestock-appraisal look that the slave groom outside had given him. Then he turned and barked in the direction of the door in the rear of the tent. "Thanh!, get in here!" The back flap opened up immediately and a petite Asian girl with the physique of a gymnast entered. She was wearing a slave collar, a web belt, rubber boots, and nothing else - just like Kathryn, the groom outside the front of the tent. Hank also noticed that, like the vast majority of the naked slaves he had seen that day, she had no pubic hair or any other body hair for that matter. Her nudity actually began to make him feel a bit uncomfortable due to her small stature and lack of body hair which made her seem underage.
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She approached the foreman and said "Yes, Boss?"
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"This is Hank, he's here to start his indenture."
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She nodded and replied "Yes, Boss!"
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The foreman turned back to Hank and said "You, strip!"
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Hank had been dreading this moment ever since he signed the indenture contract. Intellectually he had known it was coming, but now it was suddenly here. He was about to lose his clothing and his freedom for at least four years and the emotional impact hit him like a punch to the gut. But he remembered his purpose, steeled his resolve, pulled up his shirttail and took his shirt off. Then, looking around for a chair so he could take off his boots, he spotted one and moved toward it.
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"What the hell do you think your doing, slave?" This was the first time anyone had addressed him as "slave", and again Hank felt like he had been punched in the gut. Unnoticed by Hank, two large male ranch hands had quietly slipped into the tent behind him. They quickly stepped forward and grabbed his arms, one on either side.
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"You're livestock now, slave, you don't sit on chairs, PEOPLE sit on chairs!" one of them snarled in his ear. The hits just kept coming - the command to strip, being addressed as "slave," the two men grabbing him, the news that he wasn't a person who sits in chairs. Every muscle in Hank's body began to dump adrenaline into his bloodstream, swelling his veins, preparing his body for fight or flight... but he couldn't. Hank was here intentionally, he was here on a mission, he had a job to do. He didn't trust himself to move or speak, he just stood between the two men, both of whom had ears of experience in restraining unruly slaves. Hank could feel their calm physical dominance and readiness to put him down with violence. Hank was breathing heavily now as is body demanded oxygen for action, action that wasn't coming. Hank's mind was in control of his body and he wasn't going to move an inch.
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Boss Chowser smiled a broad evil grin and slowly rose from his seat. "Well now, finally some spirit out of this one. I was beginning to think he was a dud. You gonna behave for me, boy?" Hank slowly nodded, still not trusting himself to speak.
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"The correct response is "Yes, Boss!" shouted the other groom. "Yesss... Boss.," Hank gritted out.
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Boss Chowser nodded slowly, as though deep in thought. "Thanh, take his boots and pants off. Boy, for the next four years, Thanh is going to be your groom. She is going to equip and unequip you. She is going to make sure you eat your food and drink your water. She's going to wash every inch of you, lotion every inch of you, and massage every inch of you every day for those four years. Just nod if you understand me." Hank nodded.
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Thanh quickly moved forward and began tugging off Hank's boots. Once they were off, she tossed them aside and began unfastening his pants. Although he didn't know it yet, this was the last time Hank would wear pants for the next four and a half years. The two men holding Hank's arms didn't relax their grip in the slightest. Instead, they pulled Hank's arms behind him and another person Hank hadn't seen enter the room slipped cuffs on them and ratcheted them tight.
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Hank had never had a kneeling woman pull his pants down before, but he had dreamed about it many times. The prospect had seemed a lot sexier and more fun in his daydreams. Thanh didn't bother pulling his pants and underwear down separately, she just yanked both down at once. Hank's cock, which normally hung at about four and a half inches, flopped out right in her face. Hank was extremely embarrassed about doing that to her, but she seemed to take it in stride as part of her job. "Of course," Hank thought, "she sees penises all the time, so it's probably not even sexual for her any more." He wondered briefly if he would become equally blasé about seeing naked women, but doubted it. She finished pulling off his pants and underwear and tossed them aside with the same casual indifference as she had treated his favorite boots. Boss Chowser handed her some bits of tack and she quickly affixed leather cuffs and an eighteen inch hobble rope around his ankles, then moved around behind him and placed leather cuffs around his wrists and removed the metal handcuffs. Boss Chowser supervised the procedure, then walked around Hank and inspected the bindings.
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"Slave, you're going to find that Thanh is an expert at restraining unruly stallions... or any slave for that matter. I'm going to explain everything we're doing to you so you know what to expect and you don't get rowdy on me. I don't owe you this explanation and I certainly don't need your permission, I'm just telling you because it makes my job easier. The reason she replaced the steel handcuffs on your wrists is to prevent damage to your skin if you DO get rowdy, so you won't tear your skin if you start struggling. The reason you've been hobbled is so that you can't run off and you can't start kicking at us. If you were to do any of those things, you would have to be severely punished, and that would delay your training while you recovered from your injuries. Your purpose in life for the next four years is to train hard and win races for the glory of the Double H Ranch. Your purpose in life is not to spend your days lying in your stall recovering from unnecessary disciplinary injuries, is that clear? Nod if you understand me." Hank nodded. "Good, then we understand each other, you follow orders to the best of your ability and you won't be punished. I'm not going to tell you some lies about how this hurts me more than it hurts you. It doesn't hurt me at all. It's just my job, do you understand that? You can nod." Hank nodded.
-
"Good. Than, let's measure his penis."
-
While Boss Chowser had been lecturing him, Thanh had fetched a ruler from the desk and knelt back at his feet.
-
She pressed the ruler against his pubic mound and held his soft penis up against the ruler. Agatha came around from behind the desk and took a photo. "Four and... three quarters inches, Boss," the petite groom announced.
-
"You a shower or a grower, boy?" Boss Chowser asked Hank.
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"Umm, not sure, Sir, not even sure what that even means."
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"Showers hang long and grow about 50% when they get hard, growers hang short and grow up to 150% when they get hard. It's not difficult to understand that, slave. Put him on the frame!"
-
The two muscular grooms quickly moved Hank over to the equipping frame, paying no mind when he stumbled over the boots and clothing of his discarded pre-slavery life. They pressed his back up against it and the naked groom, "Thanh," he remembered, rapidly secured his ankles to the frame. Then she efficiently attached a heavy leather belt to his waist and affixed one of his leather wrist cuffs to it. The other she released and the groom on that side forced Hank's arm up above his shoulder. Than swarmed up the frame using both the frame and Hank as hand-holds and foot-holds and bound his wrist to the upper part of the frame. The same process was repeated on the other side. At no time was Hank allowed to have more than one limb unrestrained. Over the next few years, Hank would come to realize the science behind it, but for now, he was simply overwhelmed.
-
Once Hank had been secured, Boss Chowser casually approached and began to inspect every inch of Hank's naked and bound form. "Nice skin, not too hairy. Thanh, check his teeth."
-
Than quickly scaled the equipping frame again, pried the stallion's mouth open, and shined a pocket flashlight inside. "Hmm, got a small cavity on his second molar, upper right."
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"Can we carve it off? Will it affect his ability to give blowjobs?" the foreman asked.
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"Boss, my understanding is that this slave is a voluntary indenture with a no homo clause in his contract. As his groom, it's my duty to remind you of that," Than replied.
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Boss Chowser casually lubed up one of his fingers and slowly began to insert it into the slave groom's exposed anus, sliding it in and out. Standing on the equipping frame's risers, Thanh was utterly exposed and vulnerable and the Boss decided to have some fun with that... in front of three of his grooms. "Yeah, whatever, we'll have the dentist fill it when we get him in. Anything else?"
-
Thanh quickly turned back to Hank's mouth and observed each of his teeth closely. Boss Chowser continued to prod her sphincter with his fingers while pretending that he wasn't ass-plundering the girl in full view of his staff.
-
"Finished with the teeth? Good, let's measure erect penis size now, need to see where we need to be after the stallion treatment," he said, removing his fingers from her rectum and wiping them off on a towel.
-
Hank had no idea what the "stallion treatment" was, but it worried him quite a bit. Not that he could do anything about it, he was tied down and completely at these people's mercy. Not just physically, but legally as well. There was no hope coming. Seeing his former possessions strewn about the grass floor of the tent like his discarded life as a free person, he risked asking the Boss a question. "Sir, can you take my clothes and boots outside to my brother? He's waiting for me."
-
Boss Chowser looked at him in surprise, turned to look at the tent's entrance, then turned back. "Caleb, grab this shit and take it out to the slave's brother and then escort him to the exit, I don't want him causing any trouble." Then, turning to Hank, he asked sharply, "Slave, why is your brother here?"
-
"He gave me a ride, Sir."
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"Fine, I just don't want him to start any shit... Caleb, see to it."
-
One of the ranch hands, apparently Caleb, quickly knelt and gathered up the discarded remnants of Hank's pre-slavery life and carried it out through the tent flaps. Hank watched him go and thought to himself, "That's it, I have left nothing now except myself... and not even that, I guess."
-
Outside the tent, Jim tried to relax and stay out of everyone's way after Hank went in. Wealthy pony enthusiasts and ranch hands bustled about as they conducted the business of human pony slavery. Everyone seemed to have a purpose here except Jim, so he just tried to stay unnoticed.
-
The buxom prancers, apparently having finished their time outside in the hot sun, were replaced on the display wagon by another couple of ponies. These two were another matched pair, very petite with dark manes and tails. He hadn't noticed the tails before, which seemed to sprout directly from their pert little bottoms. Like the previous pair, they were both wearing identical makeup which accentuated their dark eyes and thick lashes. Their lithe bodies were clean-shaven all the way down, including their genitals... which Jim suddenly realized were completely different. One of the pretty ponies was actually a boy, and his small clean-shaven penis was completely exposed to Jim's view. "Dang," he thought "At least Hank won't be embarrassing the Sterkel name with a little thing like that."
-
One of the ranch hands that Jim had seen earlier came out of the tent holding what appeared to be Hank's clothes and boots. It seemed odd and painful for Jim to think that his little brother had gone into that tent wearing those clothes and then the clothes had returned without him, almost as though he had been a balloon pricked by a pin and deflated, leaving his clothes behind. Suddenly Jim wanted to be anywhere else but here.
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The ranch hand spoke. "Hey boy, you Jim?"
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"Yeah, that's me."
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"I'm Caleb, here's your brother's stuff, I'll walk you out."
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"Oh, uh thanks," Jim said, "I was going to walk around a bit and see more stuff. Maybe get a corn dog or something."
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"No, you're not. You see that tag around your neck? That's a delivery tag, you delivered and now you need to git." The man's voice suddenly softened a bit. "Your brother's gonna be fine, don't worry about it. Miz Valdez paid a lot of money for him and she always takes really good care of her stock. You'll see him in a few years, sooner if you come on visiting day."
-
Jim didn't know what to make of that. "Slaves have visiting days?"
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"Sure, if they've got family, it's state law. Once a week. Plus we take their collars off those days and they can actually talk to people. Come on, I'll walk you to your truck, Boss's orders."
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"They're not allowed to talk?"
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"No, that's what the collars are for, it converts human speech into pony speech, neighs, whinnies, stuff like that."
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Jim suddenly understood, "Oh, so those girls who were out here before, they weren't just pretending to make pony sounds, the collar does that for them?"
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"Exactly," Caleb answered as he ushered Jim back the the parking lot, "although some people prefer to play pony by actually making the sounds themselves."
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"That's weird."
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"Yeah, rich people and their games. It's a living though, and all the blowjobs and slave pussy you want. You looking for work? I'm sure some of these ranches are hiring."
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"Uh, no, I need to help run the farm, thanks for asking."
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"All right boy, here's your truck, drive safe."
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"Yessir, and take good care of my brother for me."
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"We'll do that, don't worry about thing, he's valuable property and Miz Valdez ALWAYS takes good care of her property."
-
Although it rankled him that the man kept referring to Hank as 'stock' and 'property' Jim decided not to make an issue out of it and left. Now he just needed to go back to Oklahoma and explain to his dad that no, he and Hank were not fishing at the lake, Hank had sold himself into slavery. He was not looking forward to that.
-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
-
Thanh finished climbing down the equipping frame, lubed up Hank's penis, and started jacking him off. Despite the fear, uncertainly, and loss of status, Hank's 18-year-old penis immediately began to respond to Thanh's ministrations until he had a full, throbbing, twitching, pulsating erection. But then she disappointingly stopped what she was doing, jammed her ruler up against his pubic bone, and Agatha snapped a picture. "Seven and a quarter inches, Boss, that's 99th percentile."
-
"Excellent," he replied nodding, "we can push that to eleven easily without any trouble, the Mistress will be pleased. It's the one thing we can't examine ahead of time, so that's one area of risk we don't have to deal with."
-
Hank's erection seemed to have been forgotten, sad and alone, as it slowly subsided into a stated of disappointed flaccidity while everyone else went about their business. Boss Chowser and Agatha bent over their laptops, the ranch hands went off to attend to other duties, and Thanh crouched silently at Hank's feet, examining his toenails, while watching Boss Chowser surreptitiously. "I hope shit like that doesn't happen for the next four years," thought Hank. "And what's this about 'pushing it to eleven inches'?" he wondered a bit apprehensively
-
Boss Chowser looked up from his paperwork. "Shave him!" he commanded. Thanh immediately fetched a bucket of water and a spray bottle of soap and began lathering up Hanks's legs. Hank hadn't expected that and it took him by surprise. Not that he had any choice in the matter, pinioned as he was to the equipping rack. After shaving the fronts and sides of his legs, she moved on to his cock and balls. She handled them delicately, if a bit impersonally, gently manipulating them from side to side as she made them baby-smooth. Hank's previously-forgotten hard-on came raging back, much to his embarrassment. Thanh took it in stride, though, and maintained her professionalism which kind of annoyed Hank at this point. Were they going to let him come at all while he was a pony? The idea of going the next four years without an orgasm seemed like a pretty bleak prospect in his 18-yr-old mind. Maybe he should have done better research into the conditions of his new job position? Still, "racing stallion" seemed to imply that there would at least be SOME sort of sexual activity, so that was good.
-
Once finished with his genitals, Thanh slowly climbed the equipping rack as she shaved Hank's chest, armpits and arms. It was a surprisingly intimate activity, performed within sight of at least two other people, as well as whatever other free persons came and went. The fact that he had a naked girl literally climbing all over him didn't help Hank with his erection problem at all. When she reached his arms, she adjusted his cuffs to shave underneath, all the while ensuring that Hank had at least one cuff on each arm at all times. He gave her an odd glance the first time she did it and she gave him a slight smile and told him quietly, "Yes slave, you are a dangerous animal who has to be controlled at all times."
-
"No talking!"
-
"Yes, Boss! Can I get some help turning him, Boss?"
-
Boss Chowser came over from his desk and assisted Thanh in adjusting the ropes and cuffs. Hank observed the complicated procedure that ensured that none of his limbs were ever completely unrestrained and flipped upon command. Thanh resumed shaving him, again starting from his ankles where she performed the same moving and adjusting procedure that she had with his arms without ever actually freeing either of his legs. She also spent a lot of time kneading each muscle while murmuring their Latin-sounding names under her breath. At least Hank thought it was Latin, maybe it was Greek. It sure sounded foreign.
-
When she reached the top, she straddled his back and said "Don't move," then began to give the sides of Hank's head a buzz cut, leaving him with a wide Mohawk hairstyle.
