The Stallion - Atonement Session Ch. 1
Posted: Sun Oct 03, 2021 4:22 pm
Forward:
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This is a story from The Stallion Series and uses characters and ideas developed therein. I owe a huge debt of thanks to Mr. Smith and Carl Bradford for their expert advice and clever (and fun-evil) ideas. I also owe a debt to Joe Doe for inventing this particular story-verse of legal slavery so that we can all play in it.
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As usual, please ignore the "-" between paragraphs. I use an off-brand word processor and if I don't do that, the file saves as a wall of text.
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Fair warning - THIS STORY CONTAINED A BRUTAL WHIPPING SCENE WHICH HAS BEEN REDACTED - You can read it in Chapter 1B if you want to. I worked hard on it, but recognize that it may not be to everyone's taste. If you want to tell me how much you hate me for writing it, please do so in a direct email, rather than in the open forum.
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Another note - Some characters' names are never revealed in the story. There's a stylistic reason for that, it's not simple laziness on my part. If it annoys you, please let me know, I'm a beginning writer and am open to all helpful criticisms.
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The Stallion - Atonement Session Ch. 1
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In the opening scene, we see two men hanging from the ceiling. Both are entirely nude and sporting erections. Extremely painful-looking erections with bulging and throbbing veins. Their distended cocks bounce in time with their heartbeats and their hearts are both beating very fast. Both men have been injected with penisillin which is a powerful drug that enlarges penises. Due to the severe and excruciatingly-painful side effects, it is illegal to use on human beings. But these are not human beings, they are slaves. Penisillin is injected directly into the arteries at the base of the penis and causes a painful 4-hour erection while the body's elevated heart rate and blood pressure stretch the penile tissue and slightly enlarge the penis permanently. Multiple treatments may be necessary to achieve the desired effect.
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The man on the left is probably in his mid-30's and fairly fat. If you told a caricature artist to draw a picture of a "good ole boy," this is what he would look like. The man on the right appears to be about 21 or so and his entire appearance screams "Ivy League Fratboy." Which is what he is... or rather, what he was when he was a human being.
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Neither of these men is considered human any longer. Both have received lifetime enslavements. They are mere livestock now, they are slaves. They are lucky. Given the seriousness of their crimes, they could have been hanged. And since they committed their crimes in Texas, that could easily have happened. There's plenty of rope in Texas.
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In front of each man is a video monitor showing a repetitive replay of their sentencing. It was the moment they lost their case, their freedom, their civil rights, their status as human beings... and their clothing. If the purpose of this is to crush their spirits, it is working. Don't feel bad, they deserve it.
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Today is the day of their atonement session, when they will receive corporal punishment from their victims. In this case, they have two victims, Mistress Harriette Valdez, the owner of the Double H Pony Ranch, and an unnamed rape victim, Jane Doe. Because their crimes were sexual in nature, sexual atonement can be used. It's up to the victims. In this case, since the atonement session is taking place in the studios of the Slavery Channel, we can be assured that the audience is going to get a good show.
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Off to one side of the dangling criminals is a nurse's station occupied by two attractive young women wearing matching nurses uniforms consisting of a white hat with a red cross on it, a white satin mini dress, white stockings that don't even try to reach the hem of their dresses, and sensible shoes with non-slip soles. They are also wearing white leather collars with red crosses on them, indicating their status as slave nurses. The figure-hugging mini dresses feature a shiny brass zipper that goes from the hem to the collar of the dress. These particular zippers have never in their existence been zipped so high. Right now they are zipped almost to the bottom of the buxom slaves' generous breasts. The two girls seem bored, but they smile and wave excitedly for the cameras whenever they see themselves on the monitors. A girl never knows when she's about to catch the eye of a powerful man and make her big break in Hollywood.
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Wrapped around the back of the studio is a 3-level bleachers filled with Slave Channel VIP guests. In one of the seats is the President of the Slave channel. Kneeling at his feet is a 19-year-old collared slave girl. He is holding her leash in his hands and she is wearing the same designer gown she wore three years ago while accepting her first Grammy Award for Best New Pop Artist. Her elbows and wrists are bound together behind her back and her face and dress are stained with the evidence of multiple blowjobs. She is forbidden to swallow while sucking cock. She is unworthy of ingesting the semen of free men. She has been sucking a lot of cock recently. Her long dark hair is pulled up in her trademark high ponytail on top of her head.
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The President doesn't use her personally. She is female and he considers the idea of having sex with a woman disgusting. Sometimes he lets his husband Mortie mouth-fuck her, though. Mortie is like that, indiscriminate.
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Because of various legal maneuvers, he effectively owns her until he can finish the complicated lawsuit over her copyrights. That may take a few years. Her father controls the copyrights and seems to be content to continue to cash the monthly royalty checks while his daughter serves her five-year sentence for moral turpitude. It turns out that not every leaked sex tape has a beneficial impact on a starlet's career. The President doesn't care all that much. In the end he will own her and various tens of millions of dollars from the copyright lawsuits. In the meantime, the trust that holds title to her and her music is controlled by her father and it is raking in millions of dollars in royalties per year. He's in no hurry to settle the case.
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In the center of the C-shaped bleacher arrangement is the announcer duo, consisting of Mr. Smith and the slave announcer Kylie. The Slavery Channel shows always feature a Human-and-slave duo as announcers. Mr. Smith is a boring I-Wear-A-Suit-And-Have-Slick-Hair generic announcer guy. Slave Kylie is a busty bimbo with huge hair, plump lips, and an hourglass body squeezed into a bright red satin mini dress. She looks great. She looks sexy. He looks... generic.
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Slave Kylie leaps into the air, her bust bouncing in its satin almost-constraints. She spins about and screams at the crowd, "Are... you... READY!?!"
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The crowd is ready. They scream their readiness to the cameras.
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Mr. Smith quickly regained control from the impertinent (and sexy) slave. "Gather 'round my friends in the studio audience and online! Here we are today to see TWO deserving criminals receive... their... re... tri... bution-n-n-n!" He seems delighted, he seems excited, he gets paid big money for seeming that way!
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Slave Kylie, on the other hand, she gets fucked in all holes no matter what she does, but she just tries to have fun with her job before the highest-bidding fan inevitably takes her in whichever perverted way he deems necessary. That's the life of a starlet in Hollywood nowadays. Not that it's all that different from the days before slavery was reinstituted. At least it's official now. Aspiring starlets with (real or imagined) star potential immediately enslave themselves to the best acting agencies they can as soon as they arrive in Los Angeles. The lucky ones immediately get lucrative (for their owners) acting jobs. The majority are either re-sold immediately or leased to the nearest suck-bar. It's an easy scam. Put out a sign that says, "I'm a a powerful and important acting agent with power and influence" and watch the innocent and unsuspecting teenage pussy march into your lair and enslave themselves to you for "a percentage of movie royalties." There will never be movie royalties. Nobody tries, why bother? Then sell or lease them to the nearest suck-bar. Easy-peasy. Lots of suck-bars in California. Most free women refuse to suck cock these days. Apparently oral sex is something that only slave girls do now. Nevertheless, always visit the suck-bar girls and tell them that you're working on "the next big project" while she's sucking your cock. It keeps them docile.
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Flashing lights, billowing smoke, and dramatic music accompany the entrance of two people who stride boldly up to the announcer couple. Both of them are free persons. Both of them wield real-world authority over hundreds of people - both Human and otherwise. Their posture, demeanor, and clothing tells us that. On the left is Sheriff Donovan, the Sheriff of Tarrant County, Texas. On the right is one of the most important and influential slavers in the state of Texas, Mistress Harriette Valdez.
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“Wow, you two look great," gushed slave announcer Kylie, "that's a great hat, Mr. Sheriff, are you a cowboy?”
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"I am not, I'm just a gunslinger, we need hats, too," responded Sheriff Donovan.
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“Wow! That's so cool! What are you here for?”
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"Justice. The State of Texas was betrayed and is seeking retribution on behalf of Jane Doe, nothing more than that," he said as he surveyed the crowd and pointedly ignored the satin-clad slut in front of him. "Jane Doe was a prisoner awaiting trial when THAT thing over there paid THAT thing to let him into her cell and rape her. Maybe that's just fine back in Massachusetts, but we don't play by those rules here in Texas."
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The sheriff noted that the governor of the great State of Texas was in the audience and he gave his superior a polite nod and tip of his hat. The governor's naked and collared intern was kneeling at his feet while he idly stroked her hair fondly. His election campaign had received an unexpected boost when the girl had publicly defected from her father's campaign and enslaved herself to him. Unlike the Fallen Pop Star, her hands were unbound and she wrapped them around his calf as she gazed up at him with a blissful smile on her face. "She'll make a great political wife some day," thought Sheriff Donovan, "she has that adoring gaze thing down pat."
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While the Sheriff was surveying the VIP seats, the slave announcer turned to the tall blonde woman wearing an elegant skirt-suit. "And Mistress Harriette Valdez, what's your goal here?"
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The tall and authoritative blonde woman turned and looked at her. It was not a reassuring glance, it was the gaze of a slaver that quickly looked her up and down and assigned a monetary value to her appearance. "I am here for vengeance," she stated, "This man harmed and abused my property. Property that is precious to me. I do not allow that. I do not permit that. I will have my revenge."
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Kylie stared at her in shock for a brief moment. In the male-dominated legal-slavery entertainment industry that she lived in, women were not authority figures. Women served. It was the natural order of things. But this woman stood before her, clad in the raiment of power - a tailored skirt-suit with a bull-whip on her hip - and publicly declared that she fully intended to inflict pain on a man. For pissing her off. By harming her slaves. An erogenous thrill ran through Kylie's body as she suddenly imagined what it might feel like to be owned by such a woman. Would this woman control her? Would she protect her? Would she fuck her?
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Despite her disconcertion and budding arousal, she quickly replied cheerfully and brightly, "Yes, Mistress, that sounds like a great plan! Mr. Smith! What happens next?"
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Mr. Smith gave her a brief glance. He had been in this position for four years now and had seen numerous lovely and outwardly-cheerful slave girls pass through the slave announcer position, usually on their way into permanent slavery. It was going to happen. There were methods and means to permanently enslave a woman "by her own choice" whether she wanted it or not. A girl in a job like slave announcer would undoubtedly attract numerous fans. Some of them would have the financial means to buy her... and the President was more than happy to sell for the right price. There were plenty of equally-lovely girls willing, eager, and capable of taking her place. This is Hollywood, after all.
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“I'm not sure, Kylie, let's find out. Sheriff, what have you got for us?”
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The Sheriff replied "Not much, but I got a few law enforcement officers who will be delighted to assist in today's events." With that, the dramatic lighting, smoke generators, and music began again. From behind the curtain, a sharp female voice commanded, "For-ward, MARCH!" Five female deputies sporting large chromium-steel strapons marched out from behind the backstage curtain, between the two condemned men, and stopped before the Sheriff.
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"Group, halt! Left, face!" commanded the sergeant. The five grim women turned and faced the Sheriff. Their chromium-steel appendages pointed obscenely from their hips straight at the announcer group. The sergeant saluted Sheriff Donovan. He nodded in response and walked slowly up and down the line of determined women, inspecting them.
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"This man is a traitor!" he shouted. "He is a betrayer! He has betrayed me! He has betrayed you! He has betrayed our honor, our oath, our country, and our badge! He is the lowest of the low!" His voice decreased in volume now, but did not soften, dripping with venom. "He is an oath-breaker... he is... a vile thing that has to be destroyed and cast out. It is your duty to destroy him so that we may cast him out. Do you accept this duty?"
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"Sir, yes sir!"
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The slave announcer stared at the women open-mouthed, not even faking it. Her professionalism was starting to slip. It would continue to slip throughout the evening, much to her detriment. These were powerful women, wearing uniforms and wielding tools of power - chromium-steel strapons (chromium steel!) - prepared to teach a man a lesson! It was so exciting and... a firm slap on her satin-covered ass brought her back to reality. She gave Mr. Smith a startled look, then quickly got back to business.
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"Mistress Harriette," she addressed the commanding woman, thrusting her microphone at her face "What have you got for us?"
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Mistress Harriette turned her basilisk gaze onto the young slave girl. The myths and legends of the basilisk - a creature that can turn people to stone with its gaze - are based on a true thing. When Mistress Harriette's crystal-blue eyes met the eyes of the slave girl before her... they locked her in place. It wasn't even accidental. The hapless girl just froze, utterly dominated by simple eye-contact.
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Then the terrifying Mistress smiled sweetly and said, "I have Evil Pony Minions."
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Behind the curtain, an excited young female voice shouted, "Evil Pony Minions, ad-VANCE!"
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A coffle of four human ponies began marching sternly out of the backstage area. Although the normal tack for a working pony is made of supple brown leather, these ponies were wearing black. Instead of the usual scuffed brown knee-length pony boots, each Minion was wearing hip-length black leather pony boots with spiffy white feathering around the ankles, making them look like tiny two-legged Clydesdales. The sides of the boots extended upward to attach to their torso harnesses, much like a cowboy's chaps. This design neatly framed and emphasized their nude and clean-shaven genitals for the viewing pleasure of the studio audience... and every viewer online. Some of those viewers gazing with lust at the young ponies almost certainly knew them in real life, the life that they had before they became slaves. However, each minion was wearing a black leather domino mask, which concealed their former Human identities as they marched into the studio with flawless precision.
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This precision movement caused all eight of their perky bell-tipped breasts to bounce in unison. Several studio cameramen immediately zoomed in on the titillating display, even one or two who weren't supposed to.
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The file of ponies was flanked by a pair of pony grooms. On the left was a petite Asian girl, on the right, an equally-petite and very busty blonde. Each slave groom was wearing a collar, knee pads, and a web belt with a tool pouch... and nothing else. They were both barefoot, as is proper, but they marched in time with the ponies anyway.
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The group looked neither left nor right as they marched between the two hanging evil-doers. The evil-doers... just hung there helplessly. These were two men who reveled in subjugating and abusing people unable to fight back. Now they were the helpless ones and some of their victims had returned to haunt them.
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The masks, precision-drilled march and the synchronized clop-clopping of their hooves gave the Evil Pony Minions a menacing air. They approached the announcers and their guests. The Asian slave groom on the left, shouted "Evil Pony Minions, halt!" The file of ponies clop-CLOP-ed to a halt. While they were approaching the announcers, moving in unison, they seemed quite intimidating. But now that they were standing next to them, the announcer group could see that all four of these ponies were actually quite slender and pretty. Even with the hooved boots adding 4 inches to their height, the tallest was only 5'7".
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"Ponies, LEFT face!" All four ponies turned toward their Mistress as one, keeping their eyes straight ahead on the horizon, looking neither left nor right. Unlike humans, ponies do not need to look where they are going. They are guided - they follow the commands of the person controlling them.
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"Ponies kneel!" All four ponies knelt as one. They were well-trained ponies, and well-trained pony teams move in unison.
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“Thanh, Sandy, unleash my minions.”
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The Asian groom, apparently Thanh, quickly unlocked the coffle strip and withdrew it from the loops of their collars while the blonde groom moved down the line of ponies releasing their hands. Working ponies normally wear arm binders, but not tonight, these ponies had a different sort of work to do and they needed to use their hands to do it.
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Mistress Harriette looked down at them smiling. They had pulled that off perfectly and she was very pleased with them. Although none of them were aware of this, she was planning on putting a percentage of the revenue from this event into their peculiums. Her pleasure ponies normally received a percentage of the revenue that Harriette earned from selling their sexual services and they had been pulled from those duties for some time while being prepared for this display. It was only fair that they receive a cut of the earnings and Harriette was always scrupulously fair, even to her slaves.
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"Attend!" she commanded. All four ponies immediately turned their faces toward her and smiled. She was pleased with them, they could see it, and it made them happy.
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The slave announcer stepped forward to stand next to Harriette and squealed in delight. "They're so cute!"
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Harriette continued smiling down at her property and responded to the satin-clad slut, "No, they're evil. Usually they're just plain old cute, but tonight they're going to be cute AND evil." All four ponies immediately adopted stern expressions, but it just made them cuter, despite the black domino masks.
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"Oo! And I love their hair, that's cute, too! It looks just like Fallen Pop Star's hair. Did you know she tried to copyright that?" Each evil pony minion was wearing her mane in a high pony tail, much like the cum splattered former celebrity kneeling at the feet of the VIPs in the front row.
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“Ponies have manes," Harriette said, not bothering to look at the slut in the satin costume. Slaves did not wear clothing. It was forbidden. But if a slave needed work-related garb, it was permitted. Slave entertainers wore "costumes", not "clothing". The slave nurses were wearing sensible shoes with non-slip soles. The slut next to her was wearing high heels and a glamorous dress. She was an entertainer, and she needed to present an entertaining appearance. So it was permitted. "Sandy, bring me my torture devices.”
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The blonde groom quickly dropped to her knees, withdrew four leather spanking paddles from a canvas bag, and handed them to her Mistress.
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Kylie was perplexed, "Mistress, those are 'torture devices'? They look like table tennis paddles."
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Mistress Harriette bent down and kissed a pony on the forehead while bouncing one of her perky breasts with her hand. The belled nipple chimed merrily. The girl smiled sweetly up at her with her hands upraised to receive the paddle. Mistress Harriette was the all-powerful being at the center of her pony life. And now, now She was delegating Her Authority to this unworthy slave pony. The slave girl beamed with pride as the Mistress placed the paddle into her cupped hands.
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"Honey, these are pleasure ponies, their purpose in life is to be cute and sweet and carefree. It would be wrong to force them to actually harm someone. But they wanted to do their duty, so I will allow it."
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"It just seemed a bit weak and ineffective to..." Kylie began, then stopped. She had just questioned the judgement of a Slave-Mistress, in public, on television. Mistress Harriette stiffened, rose to her full height, and the slave girl realized that she had overstepped.
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"Silence!" Harriette commanded. "Smith, this slave is questioning my judgment! Do we need to demonstrate to her the effectiveness of my spanking paddles?"
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Smith got a delighted grin on his face. Suddenly he wasn't faking a smile for the cameras, he was actually enjoying this turn of events. "Why yes, Mistress Harriette," he exclaimed, emphasizing the title "Mistress". "I think we should definitely demonstrate the effectiveness of a spanking paddle on an impertinent slave. Hmm... I know! Slut! Bend over that chair and grab the handles!"
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As the frightened slave bent over the chair and grabbed the arm rests, Smith said to Harriette in a conversational tone, "You know, normally slaves are not permitted to use furniture, but I think that everyone can agree that this is one of the exceptions to the rule."
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Harriette nodded, contemplating the upturned red satin covered ass of the nervous slave girl. Two of the cameramen with shoulder-mounted cameras quickly positioned themselves to zoom in on the girl's fearful face and shapely bottom. Kylie was glad that at least the Mistress was going to spank her with her dress on and that her long hair would hide her face from the cameras in this position.
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Her confidence was mistaken. "Sandy!" the Mistress standing over her commanded.
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"Yes, Mistress?"
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"Put a pony-comb on her so her fans can see her face. She's about to get a spanking for insulting me and I want them to see it."
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"Yes, Mistress, right way!" The blonde pony groom quickly brushed Carlie's hair up into a mane and affixed it with a comb.
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"There we go, sweetie, don't we want the home audience to see how 'weak and ineffective' leather paddles are? After all, they look like tennis table paddles. Surely they can't hurt, can they?" Harriette gazed down at the eminently-spankable ass in front of her. She so enjoyed a good spanking, especially a taut and firm teenager's ass like this one.
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Her bed-slave Sandy's ass was also eminently spankable. Harriette enjoyed spanking her very much, even though she pretended not to. She always went with the "I really don't want to do this, but you need to learn discipline" speech, but it was entirely untrue and Sandy knew it. On the other hand, Sandy actually liked it when her Mistress spanked her, although she also pretended not to. It was one of those games that dominant and submissive lovers play. They had played this game before Sandy had been enslaved and they still played it in the privacy of Mistress's chambers.
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But now, people were looking. Sandy pretended to be frightened of the intimidating Mistress and asked in a fake-frightened voice, "Are you going to spank her now?" She was a terrible actress and it showed. But somehow it made the interaction more effective, not less.
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"I am, raise her skirt for me," Harriette responded, wedging her hip up against the slave announcer's silky-smooth and oh-so-firm hip.
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Sandy quickly complied and Kylie's last bastion of false modesty was eliminated. Her naked face and bare bottom were now exposed to millions of online viewers. The cameraman behind her zoomed in on her smooth and juicy vagina and the image appeared on the big viewing screens on the walls of the studio. A small silver disk bearing the logo of the Slavery Channel dangled from her clitoral-hood piercing and reflected the bright studio lights nicely, winking at the audience as it spun back and forth in her thigh gap. Kylie was sure that many of the online audience members were probably friends and family that she had known back in Cornhenge, Iowa before she had - filled with dreams of Hollywood stardom - enslaved herself to a "reputable" acting agency. Acting agency reputations in Hollywood were like a slave's modesty, entirely false fronts, quickly discarded. She had been evaluated and immediately re-sold to the Slave Channel.
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Kylie's first acting assignment had been a commercial for Purina Slave Chow and it had featured her naked on her hands and knees eating out of a bowl on the floor next to the family dog. It wasn't a great start on her rise to fame and fortune, but it could easily have been worse. This moment felt worse than that because she had managed to work her way up through the system of exploitation to the point where she normally wore costumes when on camera. Now she was about to be paddled bare-bottomed on live television. She hadn't even been spanked yet, and tears already started to form in the corners of her eyes.
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Harriette looked down at the slave girl's fully-exposed bottom and a tiny smile quirked the right corner of her mouth. She so loved the look of a naked girl's ass in her lap. Who doesn't? Kylie's bare bottom had perfectly-smooth unblemished skin, without the markings that free girls sometimes developed from their (unfortunate and unnecessary) freedom to sit on furniture. Each globe of her ass was nicely-formed and, displayed in this position, practically demanded to be spanked. Harriette wanted to spank the lovely girl with her bare hand. It was so much more intimate that way. But she was on national television and she had been challenged on the effectiveness of her spanking paddles, so that's what it would have to be. She glanced up at the Slavery Channel President and saw him nodding approval at this turn of events. Maybe he would let Harriette borrow the girl for the night. It had possibilities.
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Just when Kylie thought the embarrassment couldn't get any worse, it did. "Sandy, honey, remove her plug and clean it, we'll put it back in later." Kylie had forgotten that she was wearing a shining butt-jewel in her rectum. Gentle hands pried it out of her bottom and the home audience was treated to, in addition to their view of her bare and weeping pussy, a view into her gaping sphincter before it flexed closed. Mistress Harriette helpfully held the embarrassed slave girl's cheeks apart so the camera could get a clear shot. Kylie had been in Hollywood almost two years now, and although she had appeared mostly- or partly-nude many times, this was the first time she had been exposed in such an utterly dominated and sexualized position. Her initial two-year indenture was up in a few weeks, maybe she could go back to Cornhenge, Iowa and pick up the remaining pieces of...
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"Smack!" the leather spanking paddle hit her exposed right cheek and... "Smack!" she was hit on the left. The cameraman in front of her made a tight, professional smile as he captured the perfect shocked and open-mouthed expression on Kylie's face as the paddle stuck her sensitive bottom. A still-shot of her painted lips making a perfect "O" went up on the wall-screens. The cameraman behind her captured the rippling of her cheeks as they absorbed the impact of the "weak and ineffective" paddle. A slow motion shot of the rippling cheeks was quickly placed alongside her O-face on the walls. Apparently the paddles were neither weak nor ineffective in the hands of a skilled wielder. Mistress Harriette had spanked a lot of slave girls over the years and she was very skilled.
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"What do you think, Mr. Smith?" Harriette asked, "Do you think these paddles are weak and ineffective?" She began soothing the recently-smacked flesh by caressing them with the smooth leather paddle. It made future spanks more effective. And it was fun.
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"Hmm," replied thoughtfully, "perhaps we need another six spanks to be sure?" Although Mr. Smith was enjoying the spanking quite a bit, he wanted to keep the show moving.
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Mistress Harriette nodded and began swatting the girl efficiently. Sometimes she would spank the left cheek first, sometimes the right. Other times she would tense like she was bringing down another strike and then... not do it. The cameramen captured it all from close up.
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Finished paddling, Harriette placed one manicured finger on the girl's pierced clit. She rubbed it a bit as though checking for firmness. It was very firm. Someone was enjoying her spanking a little too much. Kylie shuddered a bit and wiggled in her grasp. Then the Mistress slid her finger along the girl's open pink slit, eliciting yet another shudder of pleasure. After gathering the moisture she found there, Harriette swirled it around the exterior of the slave girl's exposed pink sphincter, which was still partly open due the fact that Kylie had been plugged every day for the past two years.
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She then released the girl and told her to stand up. Kylie immediately began pulling her skirt down.
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“Stop!”
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Kylie froze in surprise, staring at Mistress Harriette. She realized that she had made yet another mistake. Mistress Harriette had pulled her skirt up. The Mistress had NOT pulled it back down and she had NOT ordered the slave girl to do so. This was getting worse and worse!
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Mr. Smith stepped in and rescued her. He needed to keep the show moving. This stupid slut was becoming a liability.
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"I've got this," he said. He plucked the disinfected butt jewel from Sandy's hand and ordered Kylie to open her mouth. He stuck the plug in the girl's mouth and ordered her to use her tongue on it. Because Sandy's cleaning and disinfecting of the plug had taken place off-camera, it appeared to the audience that the butt plug had just been removed from her rectum and the girl was now being forced to clean it with her tongue. Kylie had held it together during the brief spanking episode, but this humiliation was too much. Her eyes began to well up with tears of shame and, as Mr. Smith bent her over to re-plug her butt, they began to fall, streaking her makeup.
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Smith sighed, the slave announcer really WAS becoming a liability now. He smacked her exposed pink bottom and sent her into the back to freshen up.
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While he was doing this, Harriette finished distributing the torture devices and the row of ponies was kneeling at her feet holding them in their hands. The grooms were kneeling behind them. "Time to get this show moving, " he thought.
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He approached the Slave-Mistress and asked, "Now what?"
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Harriette looked up and gave him a sinister smile, then chuckled. "Well," she drawled, "there's a lo-ong and co-omplicated pro-ocess where we give instructions, assign targets, discuss technique and implementation..."
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Smith stared at her in horror. How long was this going to take?
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“Evil Pony Minions, ATTACK!" She smirked and turned back to Smith, "Or we can just send them off. Which do you prefer?”
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Giggling gleefully, the minions leaped up and raced over to the condemned men with their topknots and perky round pony-tailed bottoms bouncing. The four ponies positioned themselves with one on either side of each man and began paddling madly. They were terrible at it. There was no structure, no rhythm, they were just whaling away. It was extremely cute.
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“Sandy! Thanh! Get them under control! Two-by-two, just like we practiced!” Harriette commanded.
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The two grooms quickly got the rampaging minions under control and positioned them in pairs three steps behind the two men. Each pair of ponies held their assigned torture device in their inside hands. Thanh took charge, "Poppi, Oksana, you're up first!" she shouted. "Wind UP..." they began wind-milling their paddles like softball pitchers getting ready to throw an underhand fastball, "... and SPANK!"
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On command, the two ponies took three long strides forward clop-clop-clop-SMACK! For added visual appeal, they smiled brightly at the criminal's personal camera of shame, which had been positioned to capture every moment of his degradation. They also held up their outer arms in a "V-for-victory" salute. Knowing exactly what was coming, the cameraman in front of each criminal had set his lenses and filters just perfectly. The still photographs of that moment would become popular downloads on the Slavery Channel's website. On either side of the condemned man... pony girls in motion, manes swirling, eyes open and eager, belled breasts bouncing, naked and clean-shaven genitals exposed to the world. In between the two cheerful flying ponies, the condemned criminal, mouth open in shock and pain and... something else.
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It was too much. The penisillin had done its job. The vibrations from the spanking earlier had set a fire in his groin as they were transmitted through his body into his genitals... he erupted and the unforgiving camera's eye caught the first massive spurt of semen as it began to arc away from his body. Spotting the eruption, Poppi stopped and gently began stroking the criminal's penis, launching spurt after agonizing spurt of semen out of the man's body. Poppi was an expert at handling men's penises, as he had been a pony girl for two years now and had a lot of experience. He also knew that this was a medically-necessary procedure. If the penisillin patient didn't get it all out in one go, then bad things would happen, possibly including ruptured arteries, which could be fatal. Oksana assisted the milking process by giving the criminal rapid taps with her paddle on his reddening ass, sending stimulating vibrations through his body.
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The condemned man didn't know any of this. All he knew was that he was being stroked and milked on national television by the creepy and disgusting tranny-futa-slave-pony-thing. This shameful knowledge didn't stop his orgasm, though. Maybe he had found his true calling.
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After rushing up to discover what was occupying her evil minions, Thanh saw what they were doing and she approved. She looked around the hanging prisoner's body to see what her Mistress thought of it. She saw that the Mistress was approaching rapidly and Thanh's eyes widened in alarm.
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“Excellent work, Thanh, keep that up!" she exclaimed, "Sandy! Do you see what she's doing there? Do the same with your prisoner!”
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Mistress Harriette had seen the effects of a penisillin treatment gone wrong before and didn't want one documented on live television. Penises spurting semen were fine, but penises spurting blood were an entirely different matter. This was a PG-13-rated show, after all.
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Sandy sprang into action. "Daybreak, you're on spanking duty, give him tappity-taps, get those vibrations going! Meadow, you're on stroking duty, stroke him to orgasm gently, Mistress commands it!"
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The two ponies moved to comply and soon the second prisoner was experiencing his own agonizing penicillin-enhanced orgasm. Meadow tried to point her assigned penis at the proper angle in order to match the distance of the other criminal's spurts, but she was defeated by the excessive upward-curvature of the man's cock. Instead, the semen arced too high and didn't match the distance achieved by the first prisoner. In the VIP seats and online, bets were settled and money changed hands. On the Slavery Channel, everything can be monetized, even the distance of slaves' ejaculations.
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Once she was satisfied that there would be no penisillin-related medical emergency, Mistress Harriette gave new orders, "Back in positions everyone! Daybreak and Meadow, victory salute spank now!" They proceeded to perform the same victory salute spanking that Poppi and Oksana had done.
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"Interns!" Harriette shouted. Two excited teenage girls wearing clothing ran out from behind the curtain carrying buckets. They were local college freshmen that Harriette had selected to perform this role. She had attempted to recruit both of them as dressage ponies, but their parents had vetoed the idea and they went to college instead. It was a clear waste of talent, although Harriette was willing to accept it... for now.
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But Harriette Valdez doesn't forget a pretty face. When she needed a couple of photogenic young girls for this broadcast, she immediately thought of Susan and Sharon. They were fraternal twins with red-orange hair who looked very much alike. Those attributes were big selling points in the pony business and Harriette still hoped to add them to her herd.
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Both interns were wearing figure-hugging emerald minidresses, just like real Hollywood starlets! But unlike real starlets, the pale skin of their slender throats was unoccupied by anything that might be construed as a collar. Several calculating minds in the studio audience began plotting to change that. Their hair and makeup had been done by the Slavery Channel professionals. When they arrived at the studio with their parents, they were separated from them and ushered backstage. The parents were guided to the VIP bleachers and given complimentary drinks and hors d'oeuvres.
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Back stage, the girls' appearance had been evaluated and deemed acceptable - for a high school prom. But not for a nation-wide broadcast. The Slave Channel's expert staff sprang into action. The girls were stripped and placed in chairs. Their hair and makeup had been completely redone. New dresses were selected for them. Their expensive calf-length Costco-brand cocktail dresses were now hanging on a rack in the wardrobe department awaiting their return. So was their underwear. It is possible that they may never wear underwear again. Or dresses. Time will tell.
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Susan and Sharon waved to their parents in the bleachers as they ran past. Running in high heels and skin-tight dresses had a fascinating effect on their shapely bottoms and steely-eyed professional cameramen made sure to zoom in on the captivating sight. Purely because it was good cinema, of course. Not because they were nursing hard-ons or anything. They were professionals.
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Each girl held a bucket of props. The duo ran up to Mistress Harriette. They were both so excited to appear on national television! And wearing such scandalous dresses! They knew that all of their friends were watching them as they appeared in such a glamorous venue, wearing sexy makeup, with their hair professionally done by Hollywood glamour artists. They had spent hours with their mom preparing for this event, but none of that had mattered. The Hollywood professionals had quickly stripped them of their clothing, put them in chairs, covered them in entirely see-through plastic capes and set to work immediately. It had been terrifying and embarrassing for both of them, but no one had paid their visible-displayed charms any mind as they set to work. The sight of naked starlets meant nothing to them, they were pros, and lewdly-exposed girls were normal for them, they had jobs to do.
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Susan was quite certain that her makeup artist was a homosexual, so nudity and immorality were probably part of his nature anyway. He seemed really sweet though, so it made her sad that his soul was destined for Hell. Maybe Daddy could help? He had a really successful anti-gay counseling program.
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Deacon John Maisie leaned back in his chair while his wife stiffened in outrage next to him. He calmed her simple feminine mind with some gentle back-rubbing, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath the thin material of her dress. He knew that sex with his wife tonight would be especially exciting for him after watching one of his favorite ponies, Poppi, prancing about under the bright studio lights. That's why he had reserved a hotel room so that he could sodomize his wife Sarah right after the show. She wasn't aware of that yet, but she soon would be.
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Harriette had a policy of selling her transgender ponies after two years, so he knew she would be selling Poppi soon. Fortunately, Tulip was coming along nicely and John had just managed this week to finally cram his entire cock down the pony's throat. The boy had vomited afterward in spite of having had his gag reflex suppressed with a numbing agent, but throat training took time. Deacon Maisie was patient and was willing to sacrifice whatever time it took to assist the boy in reaching spiritual salvation.
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But right now, his wife was upset about his daughters' appearance, so he paid attention to it. "What was the silly cunt thinking?" he thought. Of course the Slavery Channel wasn't going to allow a couple of nubile 18-yr-olds appear on a show wearing flowing calf-length gowns! This was going to happen anyway, which was why he hadn't been willing to allow her to spend her allowance at the more expensive JC Penney dress shop.
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Sighing, he leaned forward and whispered into his wife's ear, "Don't worry, honey, we can have them change back into the more appropriate dresses before the after party."
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“Oh!" she replied, "Umm, I didn't know we were staying for the after party.”
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“Yes, of course," Deacon Maisie told her as he trickled his finger up her back toward the bright orange hair that all of his daughters had inherited and began stroking her neck. "I've also reserved a hotel room for just the two of us.”
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“Okay, honey, but we'll need someplace for the girls though, I don't want them taking a cab home, it's not safe.”
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John nodded thoughtfully. Under the current legal-slavery regime, it really wasn't safe for 18-yr-old prime-graded girls to be out and about in the world without chaperones. "Hmm," he said, nuzzling her ear, "suppose we ask Harriette to take them in hand and ensure their safety? Otherwise, the best solution is to hire someone to stand guard outside their hotel room. Or do you prefer that they share our room with us? But if we did that, it might cut down on this evenings' activities. I had planned to... sodomize you tonight," he said seductively.
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At the sound of the forbidden word, an erotic thrill ran through the woman's body. Her Husband wanted to sodomize her! It was so wrong and immoral and a good girl like herself shouldn't do it... but a wife needs to obey her Husband and Master, so she would submit. Submission to one's Husband was natural. It was right and just. She just needed to obey.
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“Mmm..." she moaned, responding to his ministrations, "I agree, why don't you ask her to take care of it so we can have some 'Daddy Time'?”
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“Actually, why don't we wait until after this punishment session? Harriette and I have a plan. I'll give you the details later, then we can go down to the ponies' break room and set things in motion.”
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As the cheerfully-unsuspecting teens approached Mistress Harriette, she smiled in greeting and then pointed to two slave mats on the floor in front of her. "Knees!" she commanded and both teens immediately sank to their knees on the mat, just like any slave girl would do when given that command. The Texas public school system's mandatory slave yoga classes had programmed them to act like obedient slaves without thought and they dropped to their knees without hesitation.
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But "obeying without question" is not the same as "not questioning", and both girls suddenly realized that they had instantly and simultaneously obeyed a slave command. And that they had done so before hundreds of thousands of witnesses. Although involuntary enslavements for "self enslavement syndrome" were rare, they did occur from time to time and they had both just provided damning evidence for such a lawsuit.
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Seeing the sudden looks of apprehension and understanding on their faces, Harriette quickly distracted them. "All right prop interns, what have you brought me?" she asked.
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They quickly displayed their wares and Harriette decided. "Flags first!" The gleeful spanking ponies then performed their dual-spank move holding various combinations of props in their free hands - flags, pom-poms, sparklers, and pinwheels - toys that kids might play with running around the yard on a Sunday afternoon. It was extremely un-torture-like. Everyone had a lot of fun and the Slavery Channel cameramen got a lot of great shots of the cheerful spanking ponies.
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Sharon also got her first up-close view of an erect penis. One of the pony girls had a penis! And it was erect! Every time the pony came up to her bucket for more props, he stood next to her. Since she was kneeling on the floor, his erection was very close to her face and it kept distracting her. It had never occurred to her that she might see an actual penis from close up before her marriage. She had seen many naked slaves around town of course, but this was a new experience for her. At one point, she noticed a glistening drop of clear liquid protruding from the hole at the end, "Is that what semen looks like?" she asked herself.
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While Sharon was being distracted by her eye-level view of Poppi's erection, Susan was also getting an eyeful. Her two ponies were named Meadow and Daybreak. Sharon thought that under different circumstances, they might have become friends. Both girls were extremely cute and cheerful and they just seemed so bubbly and happy. It wasn't the image that Sharon had previously held of slavery. These two girls, who were probably no more than 19 or 20, didn't seem oppressed or miserable in the least. When the two ponies sprang to their feet and stood in front of Sharon to applaud the latest spank, Sharon noticed a couple other things that she hadn't realized. One was that the ponies' tails were not actually attached to their harnesses. It was puzzling, but they seemed to spring directly from their round bottoms. "I wonder how they're fastened?" she thought. Perhaps she could ask. After all, that's the only way you learn about new things, you ask questions.
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Sharon also noticed that each girl had the HH brand on her left glute. Sharon had heard about branding and thought it was terribly cruel, but her Father had explained to her that it was actually for their own protection. It was far easier to steal an unbranded slave and, because stolen slaves couldn't legally be sold by any licensed slave merchant in the country, they almost always ended up exported to foreign countries where slavery was a permanent and sometimes fatal condition. It was a frightening thought.
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The cameramen and the studio audience were also enjoying interesting views. The cameras were able to get several high-resolution shots of the two kneeling interns' bottoms as they reached into their buckets. Since neither girl had ever worn such a tight dress - or one so short - they didn't think to take care of their hemlines, which slowly rose over the course of the event to expose their pantyless bottoms and ginger-furred vaginas. The cameramen took full advantage of the oversight, but the show's producer ensured that the resulting crotch shots only appeared on the wall screens behind the two girls. He didn't want them distracted from their important toy-distribution task.
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Observing the salacious spectacle, Deacon Maisie, the interns' father, chuckled ruefully and thought to himself, "Yep, there will have to be spankings tonight. There's my excuse." Mrs. Maisie simply fumed.
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He turned to her and said, "Honey, I think that the girls need to be taught a lesson in modesty tonight, don't you?" She simply pressed her lips together and nodded back, unable to tear her eyes away from the big screens showing her daughters' exposed treasures to the world.
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Once Harriette was satisfied that the Slavery Channel had enough spanking pictures for the edited version of the show, she ordered the two grooms to coffle the minions. Since there were only two grooms, they first captured and coffled one pair while the other two ran about in circles waving their toys in the air. But soon all four had been returned to their original 4-pony coffle bondage.
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Thanh attached a guide rod to the lead pony and ordered "One-two, prance in PLACE!" The four minions began to prance in unison, making their topknots, belled breasts and round bottoms bounce in unison. The mobile cameramen quickly repositioned themselves to take in the erotic display.
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"Three-four... on the guide... ADVANCE!" shouted Thanh as she began leading the 4-pony coffle in a circuit around the studio, slowly picking up speed. As they passed the bleachers, she commanded "Eyes left, smile brightly!" and all four ponies turned their smiling faces toward the bleachers as they pranced past.
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Human pony enthusiasts in the audience were impressed by the display. Not only were all four ponies moving in perfect unison, they were looking to their left while the diminutive groom led them in a wide circle curving to the right. Such a maneuver required the utmost precision training and mutual trust and they pulled it off perfectly. Harriette's reputation as an expert trainer - already stellar - rose even higher.
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After a second and faster pass, Thanh led them through the curtains back stage to thunderous applause.
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Susan and Sharon took in the Minions' victory lap from their mats at Mistress Harriette's feet. When they had initially started to get to their feet, Harriette commanded them to stay down for the victory lap. They quickly returned to their knees without arguing, like the obedient girls that they were.
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As soon as the minions were gone, Harriette ordered the twins to rise to their feet. "Pull your skirts down, honeys."
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Both of the fair-skinned redheads instantly blushed bright red as they realized that their skirts had ridden up. They pulled their hemlines down frantically, hoping that no one had noticed. It was too little, too late. It had been noticed and their school and church friends were already trading screenshots. Others had helpfully forwarded those same screenshots to their mother's phone and their own phones which were being held in their mother's purse for safekeeping while they were onstage. There would be consequences later, but for the moment they remained blissfully unaware.
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Once they had restored their (entirely real) modesty, Harriette escorted the bucket-carrying duo out of the studio. They had wanted to stay and watch the rest of the show with their parents in the bleachers, but Harriette forbade it, telling them that "The rest of the show features sodomy and whipping. It's not proper for young ladies of quality to be exposed to such things." It was the right tack to take, as both of them fundamentally identified as "proper young ladies of quality".
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Harriette escorted them out of the studio with a girl on either side. She guided them with a manicured hand possessively cupping each girl's stretch-satin-covered ass. Harriette had a special place in her heart for athletic girls wearing tight, stretchy clothing. Who doesn't? She frequently dressed her bed-slave Sandy in snug athletic shorts in the privacy of her chambers. She was especially fond of seeing Sandy dressed solely in lycra boy shorts that produced a nicely-pronounced camel toe. It was Sandy's preference for such shorts that had first brought her to Harriette's attention before her enslavement, back when Sandy had been working on the ranch as a paid employee. Maybe Sandy would be able to wear clothing and earn paychecks again some day.
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This is a story from The Stallion Series and uses characters and ideas developed therein. I owe a huge debt of thanks to Mr. Smith and Carl Bradford for their expert advice and clever (and fun-evil) ideas. I also owe a debt to Joe Doe for inventing this particular story-verse of legal slavery so that we can all play in it.
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As usual, please ignore the "-" between paragraphs. I use an off-brand word processor and if I don't do that, the file saves as a wall of text.
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Fair warning - THIS STORY CONTAINED A BRUTAL WHIPPING SCENE WHICH HAS BEEN REDACTED - You can read it in Chapter 1B if you want to. I worked hard on it, but recognize that it may not be to everyone's taste. If you want to tell me how much you hate me for writing it, please do so in a direct email, rather than in the open forum.
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Another note - Some characters' names are never revealed in the story. There's a stylistic reason for that, it's not simple laziness on my part. If it annoys you, please let me know, I'm a beginning writer and am open to all helpful criticisms.
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The Stallion - Atonement Session Ch. 1
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In the opening scene, we see two men hanging from the ceiling. Both are entirely nude and sporting erections. Extremely painful-looking erections with bulging and throbbing veins. Their distended cocks bounce in time with their heartbeats and their hearts are both beating very fast. Both men have been injected with penisillin which is a powerful drug that enlarges penises. Due to the severe and excruciatingly-painful side effects, it is illegal to use on human beings. But these are not human beings, they are slaves. Penisillin is injected directly into the arteries at the base of the penis and causes a painful 4-hour erection while the body's elevated heart rate and blood pressure stretch the penile tissue and slightly enlarge the penis permanently. Multiple treatments may be necessary to achieve the desired effect.
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The man on the left is probably in his mid-30's and fairly fat. If you told a caricature artist to draw a picture of a "good ole boy," this is what he would look like. The man on the right appears to be about 21 or so and his entire appearance screams "Ivy League Fratboy." Which is what he is... or rather, what he was when he was a human being.
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Neither of these men is considered human any longer. Both have received lifetime enslavements. They are mere livestock now, they are slaves. They are lucky. Given the seriousness of their crimes, they could have been hanged. And since they committed their crimes in Texas, that could easily have happened. There's plenty of rope in Texas.
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In front of each man is a video monitor showing a repetitive replay of their sentencing. It was the moment they lost their case, their freedom, their civil rights, their status as human beings... and their clothing. If the purpose of this is to crush their spirits, it is working. Don't feel bad, they deserve it.
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Today is the day of their atonement session, when they will receive corporal punishment from their victims. In this case, they have two victims, Mistress Harriette Valdez, the owner of the Double H Pony Ranch, and an unnamed rape victim, Jane Doe. Because their crimes were sexual in nature, sexual atonement can be used. It's up to the victims. In this case, since the atonement session is taking place in the studios of the Slavery Channel, we can be assured that the audience is going to get a good show.
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Off to one side of the dangling criminals is a nurse's station occupied by two attractive young women wearing matching nurses uniforms consisting of a white hat with a red cross on it, a white satin mini dress, white stockings that don't even try to reach the hem of their dresses, and sensible shoes with non-slip soles. They are also wearing white leather collars with red crosses on them, indicating their status as slave nurses. The figure-hugging mini dresses feature a shiny brass zipper that goes from the hem to the collar of the dress. These particular zippers have never in their existence been zipped so high. Right now they are zipped almost to the bottom of the buxom slaves' generous breasts. The two girls seem bored, but they smile and wave excitedly for the cameras whenever they see themselves on the monitors. A girl never knows when she's about to catch the eye of a powerful man and make her big break in Hollywood.
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Wrapped around the back of the studio is a 3-level bleachers filled with Slave Channel VIP guests. In one of the seats is the President of the Slave channel. Kneeling at his feet is a 19-year-old collared slave girl. He is holding her leash in his hands and she is wearing the same designer gown she wore three years ago while accepting her first Grammy Award for Best New Pop Artist. Her elbows and wrists are bound together behind her back and her face and dress are stained with the evidence of multiple blowjobs. She is forbidden to swallow while sucking cock. She is unworthy of ingesting the semen of free men. She has been sucking a lot of cock recently. Her long dark hair is pulled up in her trademark high ponytail on top of her head.
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The President doesn't use her personally. She is female and he considers the idea of having sex with a woman disgusting. Sometimes he lets his husband Mortie mouth-fuck her, though. Mortie is like that, indiscriminate.
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Because of various legal maneuvers, he effectively owns her until he can finish the complicated lawsuit over her copyrights. That may take a few years. Her father controls the copyrights and seems to be content to continue to cash the monthly royalty checks while his daughter serves her five-year sentence for moral turpitude. It turns out that not every leaked sex tape has a beneficial impact on a starlet's career. The President doesn't care all that much. In the end he will own her and various tens of millions of dollars from the copyright lawsuits. In the meantime, the trust that holds title to her and her music is controlled by her father and it is raking in millions of dollars in royalties per year. He's in no hurry to settle the case.
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In the center of the C-shaped bleacher arrangement is the announcer duo, consisting of Mr. Smith and the slave announcer Kylie. The Slavery Channel shows always feature a Human-and-slave duo as announcers. Mr. Smith is a boring I-Wear-A-Suit-And-Have-Slick-Hair generic announcer guy. Slave Kylie is a busty bimbo with huge hair, plump lips, and an hourglass body squeezed into a bright red satin mini dress. She looks great. She looks sexy. He looks... generic.
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Slave Kylie leaps into the air, her bust bouncing in its satin almost-constraints. She spins about and screams at the crowd, "Are... you... READY!?!"
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The crowd is ready. They scream their readiness to the cameras.
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Mr. Smith quickly regained control from the impertinent (and sexy) slave. "Gather 'round my friends in the studio audience and online! Here we are today to see TWO deserving criminals receive... their... re... tri... bution-n-n-n!" He seems delighted, he seems excited, he gets paid big money for seeming that way!
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Slave Kylie, on the other hand, she gets fucked in all holes no matter what she does, but she just tries to have fun with her job before the highest-bidding fan inevitably takes her in whichever perverted way he deems necessary. That's the life of a starlet in Hollywood nowadays. Not that it's all that different from the days before slavery was reinstituted. At least it's official now. Aspiring starlets with (real or imagined) star potential immediately enslave themselves to the best acting agencies they can as soon as they arrive in Los Angeles. The lucky ones immediately get lucrative (for their owners) acting jobs. The majority are either re-sold immediately or leased to the nearest suck-bar. It's an easy scam. Put out a sign that says, "I'm a a powerful and important acting agent with power and influence" and watch the innocent and unsuspecting teenage pussy march into your lair and enslave themselves to you for "a percentage of movie royalties." There will never be movie royalties. Nobody tries, why bother? Then sell or lease them to the nearest suck-bar. Easy-peasy. Lots of suck-bars in California. Most free women refuse to suck cock these days. Apparently oral sex is something that only slave girls do now. Nevertheless, always visit the suck-bar girls and tell them that you're working on "the next big project" while she's sucking your cock. It keeps them docile.
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Flashing lights, billowing smoke, and dramatic music accompany the entrance of two people who stride boldly up to the announcer couple. Both of them are free persons. Both of them wield real-world authority over hundreds of people - both Human and otherwise. Their posture, demeanor, and clothing tells us that. On the left is Sheriff Donovan, the Sheriff of Tarrant County, Texas. On the right is one of the most important and influential slavers in the state of Texas, Mistress Harriette Valdez.
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“Wow, you two look great," gushed slave announcer Kylie, "that's a great hat, Mr. Sheriff, are you a cowboy?”
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"I am not, I'm just a gunslinger, we need hats, too," responded Sheriff Donovan.
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“Wow! That's so cool! What are you here for?”
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"Justice. The State of Texas was betrayed and is seeking retribution on behalf of Jane Doe, nothing more than that," he said as he surveyed the crowd and pointedly ignored the satin-clad slut in front of him. "Jane Doe was a prisoner awaiting trial when THAT thing over there paid THAT thing to let him into her cell and rape her. Maybe that's just fine back in Massachusetts, but we don't play by those rules here in Texas."
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The sheriff noted that the governor of the great State of Texas was in the audience and he gave his superior a polite nod and tip of his hat. The governor's naked and collared intern was kneeling at his feet while he idly stroked her hair fondly. His election campaign had received an unexpected boost when the girl had publicly defected from her father's campaign and enslaved herself to him. Unlike the Fallen Pop Star, her hands were unbound and she wrapped them around his calf as she gazed up at him with a blissful smile on her face. "She'll make a great political wife some day," thought Sheriff Donovan, "she has that adoring gaze thing down pat."
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While the Sheriff was surveying the VIP seats, the slave announcer turned to the tall blonde woman wearing an elegant skirt-suit. "And Mistress Harriette Valdez, what's your goal here?"
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The tall and authoritative blonde woman turned and looked at her. It was not a reassuring glance, it was the gaze of a slaver that quickly looked her up and down and assigned a monetary value to her appearance. "I am here for vengeance," she stated, "This man harmed and abused my property. Property that is precious to me. I do not allow that. I do not permit that. I will have my revenge."
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Kylie stared at her in shock for a brief moment. In the male-dominated legal-slavery entertainment industry that she lived in, women were not authority figures. Women served. It was the natural order of things. But this woman stood before her, clad in the raiment of power - a tailored skirt-suit with a bull-whip on her hip - and publicly declared that she fully intended to inflict pain on a man. For pissing her off. By harming her slaves. An erogenous thrill ran through Kylie's body as she suddenly imagined what it might feel like to be owned by such a woman. Would this woman control her? Would she protect her? Would she fuck her?
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Despite her disconcertion and budding arousal, she quickly replied cheerfully and brightly, "Yes, Mistress, that sounds like a great plan! Mr. Smith! What happens next?"
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Mr. Smith gave her a brief glance. He had been in this position for four years now and had seen numerous lovely and outwardly-cheerful slave girls pass through the slave announcer position, usually on their way into permanent slavery. It was going to happen. There were methods and means to permanently enslave a woman "by her own choice" whether she wanted it or not. A girl in a job like slave announcer would undoubtedly attract numerous fans. Some of them would have the financial means to buy her... and the President was more than happy to sell for the right price. There were plenty of equally-lovely girls willing, eager, and capable of taking her place. This is Hollywood, after all.
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“I'm not sure, Kylie, let's find out. Sheriff, what have you got for us?”
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The Sheriff replied "Not much, but I got a few law enforcement officers who will be delighted to assist in today's events." With that, the dramatic lighting, smoke generators, and music began again. From behind the curtain, a sharp female voice commanded, "For-ward, MARCH!" Five female deputies sporting large chromium-steel strapons marched out from behind the backstage curtain, between the two condemned men, and stopped before the Sheriff.
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"Group, halt! Left, face!" commanded the sergeant. The five grim women turned and faced the Sheriff. Their chromium-steel appendages pointed obscenely from their hips straight at the announcer group. The sergeant saluted Sheriff Donovan. He nodded in response and walked slowly up and down the line of determined women, inspecting them.
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"This man is a traitor!" he shouted. "He is a betrayer! He has betrayed me! He has betrayed you! He has betrayed our honor, our oath, our country, and our badge! He is the lowest of the low!" His voice decreased in volume now, but did not soften, dripping with venom. "He is an oath-breaker... he is... a vile thing that has to be destroyed and cast out. It is your duty to destroy him so that we may cast him out. Do you accept this duty?"
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"Sir, yes sir!"
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The slave announcer stared at the women open-mouthed, not even faking it. Her professionalism was starting to slip. It would continue to slip throughout the evening, much to her detriment. These were powerful women, wearing uniforms and wielding tools of power - chromium-steel strapons (chromium steel!) - prepared to teach a man a lesson! It was so exciting and... a firm slap on her satin-covered ass brought her back to reality. She gave Mr. Smith a startled look, then quickly got back to business.
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"Mistress Harriette," she addressed the commanding woman, thrusting her microphone at her face "What have you got for us?"
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Mistress Harriette turned her basilisk gaze onto the young slave girl. The myths and legends of the basilisk - a creature that can turn people to stone with its gaze - are based on a true thing. When Mistress Harriette's crystal-blue eyes met the eyes of the slave girl before her... they locked her in place. It wasn't even accidental. The hapless girl just froze, utterly dominated by simple eye-contact.
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Then the terrifying Mistress smiled sweetly and said, "I have Evil Pony Minions."
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Behind the curtain, an excited young female voice shouted, "Evil Pony Minions, ad-VANCE!"
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A coffle of four human ponies began marching sternly out of the backstage area. Although the normal tack for a working pony is made of supple brown leather, these ponies were wearing black. Instead of the usual scuffed brown knee-length pony boots, each Minion was wearing hip-length black leather pony boots with spiffy white feathering around the ankles, making them look like tiny two-legged Clydesdales. The sides of the boots extended upward to attach to their torso harnesses, much like a cowboy's chaps. This design neatly framed and emphasized their nude and clean-shaven genitals for the viewing pleasure of the studio audience... and every viewer online. Some of those viewers gazing with lust at the young ponies almost certainly knew them in real life, the life that they had before they became slaves. However, each minion was wearing a black leather domino mask, which concealed their former Human identities as they marched into the studio with flawless precision.
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This precision movement caused all eight of their perky bell-tipped breasts to bounce in unison. Several studio cameramen immediately zoomed in on the titillating display, even one or two who weren't supposed to.
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The file of ponies was flanked by a pair of pony grooms. On the left was a petite Asian girl, on the right, an equally-petite and very busty blonde. Each slave groom was wearing a collar, knee pads, and a web belt with a tool pouch... and nothing else. They were both barefoot, as is proper, but they marched in time with the ponies anyway.
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The group looked neither left nor right as they marched between the two hanging evil-doers. The evil-doers... just hung there helplessly. These were two men who reveled in subjugating and abusing people unable to fight back. Now they were the helpless ones and some of their victims had returned to haunt them.
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The masks, precision-drilled march and the synchronized clop-clopping of their hooves gave the Evil Pony Minions a menacing air. They approached the announcers and their guests. The Asian slave groom on the left, shouted "Evil Pony Minions, halt!" The file of ponies clop-CLOP-ed to a halt. While they were approaching the announcers, moving in unison, they seemed quite intimidating. But now that they were standing next to them, the announcer group could see that all four of these ponies were actually quite slender and pretty. Even with the hooved boots adding 4 inches to their height, the tallest was only 5'7".
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"Ponies, LEFT face!" All four ponies turned toward their Mistress as one, keeping their eyes straight ahead on the horizon, looking neither left nor right. Unlike humans, ponies do not need to look where they are going. They are guided - they follow the commands of the person controlling them.
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"Ponies kneel!" All four ponies knelt as one. They were well-trained ponies, and well-trained pony teams move in unison.
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“Thanh, Sandy, unleash my minions.”
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The Asian groom, apparently Thanh, quickly unlocked the coffle strip and withdrew it from the loops of their collars while the blonde groom moved down the line of ponies releasing their hands. Working ponies normally wear arm binders, but not tonight, these ponies had a different sort of work to do and they needed to use their hands to do it.
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Mistress Harriette looked down at them smiling. They had pulled that off perfectly and she was very pleased with them. Although none of them were aware of this, she was planning on putting a percentage of the revenue from this event into their peculiums. Her pleasure ponies normally received a percentage of the revenue that Harriette earned from selling their sexual services and they had been pulled from those duties for some time while being prepared for this display. It was only fair that they receive a cut of the earnings and Harriette was always scrupulously fair, even to her slaves.
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"Attend!" she commanded. All four ponies immediately turned their faces toward her and smiled. She was pleased with them, they could see it, and it made them happy.
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The slave announcer stepped forward to stand next to Harriette and squealed in delight. "They're so cute!"
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Harriette continued smiling down at her property and responded to the satin-clad slut, "No, they're evil. Usually they're just plain old cute, but tonight they're going to be cute AND evil." All four ponies immediately adopted stern expressions, but it just made them cuter, despite the black domino masks.
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"Oo! And I love their hair, that's cute, too! It looks just like Fallen Pop Star's hair. Did you know she tried to copyright that?" Each evil pony minion was wearing her mane in a high pony tail, much like the cum splattered former celebrity kneeling at the feet of the VIPs in the front row.
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“Ponies have manes," Harriette said, not bothering to look at the slut in the satin costume. Slaves did not wear clothing. It was forbidden. But if a slave needed work-related garb, it was permitted. Slave entertainers wore "costumes", not "clothing". The slave nurses were wearing sensible shoes with non-slip soles. The slut next to her was wearing high heels and a glamorous dress. She was an entertainer, and she needed to present an entertaining appearance. So it was permitted. "Sandy, bring me my torture devices.”
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The blonde groom quickly dropped to her knees, withdrew four leather spanking paddles from a canvas bag, and handed them to her Mistress.
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Kylie was perplexed, "Mistress, those are 'torture devices'? They look like table tennis paddles."
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Mistress Harriette bent down and kissed a pony on the forehead while bouncing one of her perky breasts with her hand. The belled nipple chimed merrily. The girl smiled sweetly up at her with her hands upraised to receive the paddle. Mistress Harriette was the all-powerful being at the center of her pony life. And now, now She was delegating Her Authority to this unworthy slave pony. The slave girl beamed with pride as the Mistress placed the paddle into her cupped hands.
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"Honey, these are pleasure ponies, their purpose in life is to be cute and sweet and carefree. It would be wrong to force them to actually harm someone. But they wanted to do their duty, so I will allow it."
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"It just seemed a bit weak and ineffective to..." Kylie began, then stopped. She had just questioned the judgement of a Slave-Mistress, in public, on television. Mistress Harriette stiffened, rose to her full height, and the slave girl realized that she had overstepped.
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"Silence!" Harriette commanded. "Smith, this slave is questioning my judgment! Do we need to demonstrate to her the effectiveness of my spanking paddles?"
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Smith got a delighted grin on his face. Suddenly he wasn't faking a smile for the cameras, he was actually enjoying this turn of events. "Why yes, Mistress Harriette," he exclaimed, emphasizing the title "Mistress". "I think we should definitely demonstrate the effectiveness of a spanking paddle on an impertinent slave. Hmm... I know! Slut! Bend over that chair and grab the handles!"
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As the frightened slave bent over the chair and grabbed the arm rests, Smith said to Harriette in a conversational tone, "You know, normally slaves are not permitted to use furniture, but I think that everyone can agree that this is one of the exceptions to the rule."
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Harriette nodded, contemplating the upturned red satin covered ass of the nervous slave girl. Two of the cameramen with shoulder-mounted cameras quickly positioned themselves to zoom in on the girl's fearful face and shapely bottom. Kylie was glad that at least the Mistress was going to spank her with her dress on and that her long hair would hide her face from the cameras in this position.
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Her confidence was mistaken. "Sandy!" the Mistress standing over her commanded.
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"Yes, Mistress?"
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"Put a pony-comb on her so her fans can see her face. She's about to get a spanking for insulting me and I want them to see it."
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"Yes, Mistress, right way!" The blonde pony groom quickly brushed Carlie's hair up into a mane and affixed it with a comb.
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"There we go, sweetie, don't we want the home audience to see how 'weak and ineffective' leather paddles are? After all, they look like tennis table paddles. Surely they can't hurt, can they?" Harriette gazed down at the eminently-spankable ass in front of her. She so enjoyed a good spanking, especially a taut and firm teenager's ass like this one.
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Her bed-slave Sandy's ass was also eminently spankable. Harriette enjoyed spanking her very much, even though she pretended not to. She always went with the "I really don't want to do this, but you need to learn discipline" speech, but it was entirely untrue and Sandy knew it. On the other hand, Sandy actually liked it when her Mistress spanked her, although she also pretended not to. It was one of those games that dominant and submissive lovers play. They had played this game before Sandy had been enslaved and they still played it in the privacy of Mistress's chambers.
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But now, people were looking. Sandy pretended to be frightened of the intimidating Mistress and asked in a fake-frightened voice, "Are you going to spank her now?" She was a terrible actress and it showed. But somehow it made the interaction more effective, not less.
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"I am, raise her skirt for me," Harriette responded, wedging her hip up against the slave announcer's silky-smooth and oh-so-firm hip.
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Sandy quickly complied and Kylie's last bastion of false modesty was eliminated. Her naked face and bare bottom were now exposed to millions of online viewers. The cameraman behind her zoomed in on her smooth and juicy vagina and the image appeared on the big viewing screens on the walls of the studio. A small silver disk bearing the logo of the Slavery Channel dangled from her clitoral-hood piercing and reflected the bright studio lights nicely, winking at the audience as it spun back and forth in her thigh gap. Kylie was sure that many of the online audience members were probably friends and family that she had known back in Cornhenge, Iowa before she had - filled with dreams of Hollywood stardom - enslaved herself to a "reputable" acting agency. Acting agency reputations in Hollywood were like a slave's modesty, entirely false fronts, quickly discarded. She had been evaluated and immediately re-sold to the Slave Channel.
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Kylie's first acting assignment had been a commercial for Purina Slave Chow and it had featured her naked on her hands and knees eating out of a bowl on the floor next to the family dog. It wasn't a great start on her rise to fame and fortune, but it could easily have been worse. This moment felt worse than that because she had managed to work her way up through the system of exploitation to the point where she normally wore costumes when on camera. Now she was about to be paddled bare-bottomed on live television. She hadn't even been spanked yet, and tears already started to form in the corners of her eyes.
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Harriette looked down at the slave girl's fully-exposed bottom and a tiny smile quirked the right corner of her mouth. She so loved the look of a naked girl's ass in her lap. Who doesn't? Kylie's bare bottom had perfectly-smooth unblemished skin, without the markings that free girls sometimes developed from their (unfortunate and unnecessary) freedom to sit on furniture. Each globe of her ass was nicely-formed and, displayed in this position, practically demanded to be spanked. Harriette wanted to spank the lovely girl with her bare hand. It was so much more intimate that way. But she was on national television and she had been challenged on the effectiveness of her spanking paddles, so that's what it would have to be. She glanced up at the Slavery Channel President and saw him nodding approval at this turn of events. Maybe he would let Harriette borrow the girl for the night. It had possibilities.
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Just when Kylie thought the embarrassment couldn't get any worse, it did. "Sandy, honey, remove her plug and clean it, we'll put it back in later." Kylie had forgotten that she was wearing a shining butt-jewel in her rectum. Gentle hands pried it out of her bottom and the home audience was treated to, in addition to their view of her bare and weeping pussy, a view into her gaping sphincter before it flexed closed. Mistress Harriette helpfully held the embarrassed slave girl's cheeks apart so the camera could get a clear shot. Kylie had been in Hollywood almost two years now, and although she had appeared mostly- or partly-nude many times, this was the first time she had been exposed in such an utterly dominated and sexualized position. Her initial two-year indenture was up in a few weeks, maybe she could go back to Cornhenge, Iowa and pick up the remaining pieces of...
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"Smack!" the leather spanking paddle hit her exposed right cheek and... "Smack!" she was hit on the left. The cameraman in front of her made a tight, professional smile as he captured the perfect shocked and open-mouthed expression on Kylie's face as the paddle stuck her sensitive bottom. A still-shot of her painted lips making a perfect "O" went up on the wall-screens. The cameraman behind her captured the rippling of her cheeks as they absorbed the impact of the "weak and ineffective" paddle. A slow motion shot of the rippling cheeks was quickly placed alongside her O-face on the walls. Apparently the paddles were neither weak nor ineffective in the hands of a skilled wielder. Mistress Harriette had spanked a lot of slave girls over the years and she was very skilled.
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"What do you think, Mr. Smith?" Harriette asked, "Do you think these paddles are weak and ineffective?" She began soothing the recently-smacked flesh by caressing them with the smooth leather paddle. It made future spanks more effective. And it was fun.
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"Hmm," replied thoughtfully, "perhaps we need another six spanks to be sure?" Although Mr. Smith was enjoying the spanking quite a bit, he wanted to keep the show moving.
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Mistress Harriette nodded and began swatting the girl efficiently. Sometimes she would spank the left cheek first, sometimes the right. Other times she would tense like she was bringing down another strike and then... not do it. The cameramen captured it all from close up.
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Finished paddling, Harriette placed one manicured finger on the girl's pierced clit. She rubbed it a bit as though checking for firmness. It was very firm. Someone was enjoying her spanking a little too much. Kylie shuddered a bit and wiggled in her grasp. Then the Mistress slid her finger along the girl's open pink slit, eliciting yet another shudder of pleasure. After gathering the moisture she found there, Harriette swirled it around the exterior of the slave girl's exposed pink sphincter, which was still partly open due the fact that Kylie had been plugged every day for the past two years.
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She then released the girl and told her to stand up. Kylie immediately began pulling her skirt down.
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“Stop!”
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Kylie froze in surprise, staring at Mistress Harriette. She realized that she had made yet another mistake. Mistress Harriette had pulled her skirt up. The Mistress had NOT pulled it back down and she had NOT ordered the slave girl to do so. This was getting worse and worse!
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Mr. Smith stepped in and rescued her. He needed to keep the show moving. This stupid slut was becoming a liability.
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"I've got this," he said. He plucked the disinfected butt jewel from Sandy's hand and ordered Kylie to open her mouth. He stuck the plug in the girl's mouth and ordered her to use her tongue on it. Because Sandy's cleaning and disinfecting of the plug had taken place off-camera, it appeared to the audience that the butt plug had just been removed from her rectum and the girl was now being forced to clean it with her tongue. Kylie had held it together during the brief spanking episode, but this humiliation was too much. Her eyes began to well up with tears of shame and, as Mr. Smith bent her over to re-plug her butt, they began to fall, streaking her makeup.
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Smith sighed, the slave announcer really WAS becoming a liability now. He smacked her exposed pink bottom and sent her into the back to freshen up.
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While he was doing this, Harriette finished distributing the torture devices and the row of ponies was kneeling at her feet holding them in their hands. The grooms were kneeling behind them. "Time to get this show moving, " he thought.
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He approached the Slave-Mistress and asked, "Now what?"
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Harriette looked up and gave him a sinister smile, then chuckled. "Well," she drawled, "there's a lo-ong and co-omplicated pro-ocess where we give instructions, assign targets, discuss technique and implementation..."
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Smith stared at her in horror. How long was this going to take?
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“Evil Pony Minions, ATTACK!" She smirked and turned back to Smith, "Or we can just send them off. Which do you prefer?”
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Giggling gleefully, the minions leaped up and raced over to the condemned men with their topknots and perky round pony-tailed bottoms bouncing. The four ponies positioned themselves with one on either side of each man and began paddling madly. They were terrible at it. There was no structure, no rhythm, they were just whaling away. It was extremely cute.
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“Sandy! Thanh! Get them under control! Two-by-two, just like we practiced!” Harriette commanded.
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The two grooms quickly got the rampaging minions under control and positioned them in pairs three steps behind the two men. Each pair of ponies held their assigned torture device in their inside hands. Thanh took charge, "Poppi, Oksana, you're up first!" she shouted. "Wind UP..." they began wind-milling their paddles like softball pitchers getting ready to throw an underhand fastball, "... and SPANK!"
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On command, the two ponies took three long strides forward clop-clop-clop-SMACK! For added visual appeal, they smiled brightly at the criminal's personal camera of shame, which had been positioned to capture every moment of his degradation. They also held up their outer arms in a "V-for-victory" salute. Knowing exactly what was coming, the cameraman in front of each criminal had set his lenses and filters just perfectly. The still photographs of that moment would become popular downloads on the Slavery Channel's website. On either side of the condemned man... pony girls in motion, manes swirling, eyes open and eager, belled breasts bouncing, naked and clean-shaven genitals exposed to the world. In between the two cheerful flying ponies, the condemned criminal, mouth open in shock and pain and... something else.
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It was too much. The penisillin had done its job. The vibrations from the spanking earlier had set a fire in his groin as they were transmitted through his body into his genitals... he erupted and the unforgiving camera's eye caught the first massive spurt of semen as it began to arc away from his body. Spotting the eruption, Poppi stopped and gently began stroking the criminal's penis, launching spurt after agonizing spurt of semen out of the man's body. Poppi was an expert at handling men's penises, as he had been a pony girl for two years now and had a lot of experience. He also knew that this was a medically-necessary procedure. If the penisillin patient didn't get it all out in one go, then bad things would happen, possibly including ruptured arteries, which could be fatal. Oksana assisted the milking process by giving the criminal rapid taps with her paddle on his reddening ass, sending stimulating vibrations through his body.
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The condemned man didn't know any of this. All he knew was that he was being stroked and milked on national television by the creepy and disgusting tranny-futa-slave-pony-thing. This shameful knowledge didn't stop his orgasm, though. Maybe he had found his true calling.
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After rushing up to discover what was occupying her evil minions, Thanh saw what they were doing and she approved. She looked around the hanging prisoner's body to see what her Mistress thought of it. She saw that the Mistress was approaching rapidly and Thanh's eyes widened in alarm.
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“Excellent work, Thanh, keep that up!" she exclaimed, "Sandy! Do you see what she's doing there? Do the same with your prisoner!”
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Mistress Harriette had seen the effects of a penisillin treatment gone wrong before and didn't want one documented on live television. Penises spurting semen were fine, but penises spurting blood were an entirely different matter. This was a PG-13-rated show, after all.
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Sandy sprang into action. "Daybreak, you're on spanking duty, give him tappity-taps, get those vibrations going! Meadow, you're on stroking duty, stroke him to orgasm gently, Mistress commands it!"
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The two ponies moved to comply and soon the second prisoner was experiencing his own agonizing penicillin-enhanced orgasm. Meadow tried to point her assigned penis at the proper angle in order to match the distance of the other criminal's spurts, but she was defeated by the excessive upward-curvature of the man's cock. Instead, the semen arced too high and didn't match the distance achieved by the first prisoner. In the VIP seats and online, bets were settled and money changed hands. On the Slavery Channel, everything can be monetized, even the distance of slaves' ejaculations.
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Once she was satisfied that there would be no penisillin-related medical emergency, Mistress Harriette gave new orders, "Back in positions everyone! Daybreak and Meadow, victory salute spank now!" They proceeded to perform the same victory salute spanking that Poppi and Oksana had done.
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"Interns!" Harriette shouted. Two excited teenage girls wearing clothing ran out from behind the curtain carrying buckets. They were local college freshmen that Harriette had selected to perform this role. She had attempted to recruit both of them as dressage ponies, but their parents had vetoed the idea and they went to college instead. It was a clear waste of talent, although Harriette was willing to accept it... for now.
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But Harriette Valdez doesn't forget a pretty face. When she needed a couple of photogenic young girls for this broadcast, she immediately thought of Susan and Sharon. They were fraternal twins with red-orange hair who looked very much alike. Those attributes were big selling points in the pony business and Harriette still hoped to add them to her herd.
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Both interns were wearing figure-hugging emerald minidresses, just like real Hollywood starlets! But unlike real starlets, the pale skin of their slender throats was unoccupied by anything that might be construed as a collar. Several calculating minds in the studio audience began plotting to change that. Their hair and makeup had been done by the Slavery Channel professionals. When they arrived at the studio with their parents, they were separated from them and ushered backstage. The parents were guided to the VIP bleachers and given complimentary drinks and hors d'oeuvres.
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Back stage, the girls' appearance had been evaluated and deemed acceptable - for a high school prom. But not for a nation-wide broadcast. The Slave Channel's expert staff sprang into action. The girls were stripped and placed in chairs. Their hair and makeup had been completely redone. New dresses were selected for them. Their expensive calf-length Costco-brand cocktail dresses were now hanging on a rack in the wardrobe department awaiting their return. So was their underwear. It is possible that they may never wear underwear again. Or dresses. Time will tell.
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Susan and Sharon waved to their parents in the bleachers as they ran past. Running in high heels and skin-tight dresses had a fascinating effect on their shapely bottoms and steely-eyed professional cameramen made sure to zoom in on the captivating sight. Purely because it was good cinema, of course. Not because they were nursing hard-ons or anything. They were professionals.
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Each girl held a bucket of props. The duo ran up to Mistress Harriette. They were both so excited to appear on national television! And wearing such scandalous dresses! They knew that all of their friends were watching them as they appeared in such a glamorous venue, wearing sexy makeup, with their hair professionally done by Hollywood glamour artists. They had spent hours with their mom preparing for this event, but none of that had mattered. The Hollywood professionals had quickly stripped them of their clothing, put them in chairs, covered them in entirely see-through plastic capes and set to work immediately. It had been terrifying and embarrassing for both of them, but no one had paid their visible-displayed charms any mind as they set to work. The sight of naked starlets meant nothing to them, they were pros, and lewdly-exposed girls were normal for them, they had jobs to do.
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Susan was quite certain that her makeup artist was a homosexual, so nudity and immorality were probably part of his nature anyway. He seemed really sweet though, so it made her sad that his soul was destined for Hell. Maybe Daddy could help? He had a really successful anti-gay counseling program.
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Deacon John Maisie leaned back in his chair while his wife stiffened in outrage next to him. He calmed her simple feminine mind with some gentle back-rubbing, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath the thin material of her dress. He knew that sex with his wife tonight would be especially exciting for him after watching one of his favorite ponies, Poppi, prancing about under the bright studio lights. That's why he had reserved a hotel room so that he could sodomize his wife Sarah right after the show. She wasn't aware of that yet, but she soon would be.
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Harriette had a policy of selling her transgender ponies after two years, so he knew she would be selling Poppi soon. Fortunately, Tulip was coming along nicely and John had just managed this week to finally cram his entire cock down the pony's throat. The boy had vomited afterward in spite of having had his gag reflex suppressed with a numbing agent, but throat training took time. Deacon Maisie was patient and was willing to sacrifice whatever time it took to assist the boy in reaching spiritual salvation.
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But right now, his wife was upset about his daughters' appearance, so he paid attention to it. "What was the silly cunt thinking?" he thought. Of course the Slavery Channel wasn't going to allow a couple of nubile 18-yr-olds appear on a show wearing flowing calf-length gowns! This was going to happen anyway, which was why he hadn't been willing to allow her to spend her allowance at the more expensive JC Penney dress shop.
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Sighing, he leaned forward and whispered into his wife's ear, "Don't worry, honey, we can have them change back into the more appropriate dresses before the after party."
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“Oh!" she replied, "Umm, I didn't know we were staying for the after party.”
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“Yes, of course," Deacon Maisie told her as he trickled his finger up her back toward the bright orange hair that all of his daughters had inherited and began stroking her neck. "I've also reserved a hotel room for just the two of us.”
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“Okay, honey, but we'll need someplace for the girls though, I don't want them taking a cab home, it's not safe.”
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John nodded thoughtfully. Under the current legal-slavery regime, it really wasn't safe for 18-yr-old prime-graded girls to be out and about in the world without chaperones. "Hmm," he said, nuzzling her ear, "suppose we ask Harriette to take them in hand and ensure their safety? Otherwise, the best solution is to hire someone to stand guard outside their hotel room. Or do you prefer that they share our room with us? But if we did that, it might cut down on this evenings' activities. I had planned to... sodomize you tonight," he said seductively.
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At the sound of the forbidden word, an erotic thrill ran through the woman's body. Her Husband wanted to sodomize her! It was so wrong and immoral and a good girl like herself shouldn't do it... but a wife needs to obey her Husband and Master, so she would submit. Submission to one's Husband was natural. It was right and just. She just needed to obey.
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“Mmm..." she moaned, responding to his ministrations, "I agree, why don't you ask her to take care of it so we can have some 'Daddy Time'?”
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“Actually, why don't we wait until after this punishment session? Harriette and I have a plan. I'll give you the details later, then we can go down to the ponies' break room and set things in motion.”
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As the cheerfully-unsuspecting teens approached Mistress Harriette, she smiled in greeting and then pointed to two slave mats on the floor in front of her. "Knees!" she commanded and both teens immediately sank to their knees on the mat, just like any slave girl would do when given that command. The Texas public school system's mandatory slave yoga classes had programmed them to act like obedient slaves without thought and they dropped to their knees without hesitation.
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But "obeying without question" is not the same as "not questioning", and both girls suddenly realized that they had instantly and simultaneously obeyed a slave command. And that they had done so before hundreds of thousands of witnesses. Although involuntary enslavements for "self enslavement syndrome" were rare, they did occur from time to time and they had both just provided damning evidence for such a lawsuit.
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Seeing the sudden looks of apprehension and understanding on their faces, Harriette quickly distracted them. "All right prop interns, what have you brought me?" she asked.
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They quickly displayed their wares and Harriette decided. "Flags first!" The gleeful spanking ponies then performed their dual-spank move holding various combinations of props in their free hands - flags, pom-poms, sparklers, and pinwheels - toys that kids might play with running around the yard on a Sunday afternoon. It was extremely un-torture-like. Everyone had a lot of fun and the Slavery Channel cameramen got a lot of great shots of the cheerful spanking ponies.
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Sharon also got her first up-close view of an erect penis. One of the pony girls had a penis! And it was erect! Every time the pony came up to her bucket for more props, he stood next to her. Since she was kneeling on the floor, his erection was very close to her face and it kept distracting her. It had never occurred to her that she might see an actual penis from close up before her marriage. She had seen many naked slaves around town of course, but this was a new experience for her. At one point, she noticed a glistening drop of clear liquid protruding from the hole at the end, "Is that what semen looks like?" she asked herself.
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While Sharon was being distracted by her eye-level view of Poppi's erection, Susan was also getting an eyeful. Her two ponies were named Meadow and Daybreak. Sharon thought that under different circumstances, they might have become friends. Both girls were extremely cute and cheerful and they just seemed so bubbly and happy. It wasn't the image that Sharon had previously held of slavery. These two girls, who were probably no more than 19 or 20, didn't seem oppressed or miserable in the least. When the two ponies sprang to their feet and stood in front of Sharon to applaud the latest spank, Sharon noticed a couple other things that she hadn't realized. One was that the ponies' tails were not actually attached to their harnesses. It was puzzling, but they seemed to spring directly from their round bottoms. "I wonder how they're fastened?" she thought. Perhaps she could ask. After all, that's the only way you learn about new things, you ask questions.
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Sharon also noticed that each girl had the HH brand on her left glute. Sharon had heard about branding and thought it was terribly cruel, but her Father had explained to her that it was actually for their own protection. It was far easier to steal an unbranded slave and, because stolen slaves couldn't legally be sold by any licensed slave merchant in the country, they almost always ended up exported to foreign countries where slavery was a permanent and sometimes fatal condition. It was a frightening thought.
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The cameramen and the studio audience were also enjoying interesting views. The cameras were able to get several high-resolution shots of the two kneeling interns' bottoms as they reached into their buckets. Since neither girl had ever worn such a tight dress - or one so short - they didn't think to take care of their hemlines, which slowly rose over the course of the event to expose their pantyless bottoms and ginger-furred vaginas. The cameramen took full advantage of the oversight, but the show's producer ensured that the resulting crotch shots only appeared on the wall screens behind the two girls. He didn't want them distracted from their important toy-distribution task.
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Observing the salacious spectacle, Deacon Maisie, the interns' father, chuckled ruefully and thought to himself, "Yep, there will have to be spankings tonight. There's my excuse." Mrs. Maisie simply fumed.
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He turned to her and said, "Honey, I think that the girls need to be taught a lesson in modesty tonight, don't you?" She simply pressed her lips together and nodded back, unable to tear her eyes away from the big screens showing her daughters' exposed treasures to the world.
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Once Harriette was satisfied that the Slavery Channel had enough spanking pictures for the edited version of the show, she ordered the two grooms to coffle the minions. Since there were only two grooms, they first captured and coffled one pair while the other two ran about in circles waving their toys in the air. But soon all four had been returned to their original 4-pony coffle bondage.
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Thanh attached a guide rod to the lead pony and ordered "One-two, prance in PLACE!" The four minions began to prance in unison, making their topknots, belled breasts and round bottoms bounce in unison. The mobile cameramen quickly repositioned themselves to take in the erotic display.
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"Three-four... on the guide... ADVANCE!" shouted Thanh as she began leading the 4-pony coffle in a circuit around the studio, slowly picking up speed. As they passed the bleachers, she commanded "Eyes left, smile brightly!" and all four ponies turned their smiling faces toward the bleachers as they pranced past.
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Human pony enthusiasts in the audience were impressed by the display. Not only were all four ponies moving in perfect unison, they were looking to their left while the diminutive groom led them in a wide circle curving to the right. Such a maneuver required the utmost precision training and mutual trust and they pulled it off perfectly. Harriette's reputation as an expert trainer - already stellar - rose even higher.
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After a second and faster pass, Thanh led them through the curtains back stage to thunderous applause.
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Susan and Sharon took in the Minions' victory lap from their mats at Mistress Harriette's feet. When they had initially started to get to their feet, Harriette commanded them to stay down for the victory lap. They quickly returned to their knees without arguing, like the obedient girls that they were.
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As soon as the minions were gone, Harriette ordered the twins to rise to their feet. "Pull your skirts down, honeys."
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Both of the fair-skinned redheads instantly blushed bright red as they realized that their skirts had ridden up. They pulled their hemlines down frantically, hoping that no one had noticed. It was too little, too late. It had been noticed and their school and church friends were already trading screenshots. Others had helpfully forwarded those same screenshots to their mother's phone and their own phones which were being held in their mother's purse for safekeeping while they were onstage. There would be consequences later, but for the moment they remained blissfully unaware.
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Once they had restored their (entirely real) modesty, Harriette escorted the bucket-carrying duo out of the studio. They had wanted to stay and watch the rest of the show with their parents in the bleachers, but Harriette forbade it, telling them that "The rest of the show features sodomy and whipping. It's not proper for young ladies of quality to be exposed to such things." It was the right tack to take, as both of them fundamentally identified as "proper young ladies of quality".
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Harriette escorted them out of the studio with a girl on either side. She guided them with a manicured hand possessively cupping each girl's stretch-satin-covered ass. Harriette had a special place in her heart for athletic girls wearing tight, stretchy clothing. Who doesn't? She frequently dressed her bed-slave Sandy in snug athletic shorts in the privacy of her chambers. She was especially fond of seeing Sandy dressed solely in lycra boy shorts that produced a nicely-pronounced camel toe. It was Sandy's preference for such shorts that had first brought her to Harriette's attention before her enslavement, back when Sandy had been working on the ranch as a paid employee. Maybe Sandy would be able to wear clothing and earn paychecks again some day.