The selective service slave part #12

[mikey22]

Misty did her best with the yoga positions. They forced them into. She was very impressed with the blonde slave girl. Who seemed to be the only one in there group. That could perform with the perfection that was expected of them.

“ Oh I wish I could talk to her. “
Misty says to herself.
The slave girl knew, all the new slaves were watching her. And you could tell by her body language that she was thriving on the attention.

She puts her palms flat on the floor. And hoisted herself straight up into the air.

“ Oh my! She is so strong! “
Misty says to herself watching her do a perfect handstand. Before spreading her legs. Like some professional gymnast.

“ Good job slave! “
One of the onlooking slave handlers said. Giving her a little praise.

“ She’s so good at this slave shit? Why did she ever runaway? From the Big D?”
Misty and several others wondered.

Again wishing she could talk to her. Her knowledge of slave life could be so helpful. Especially to a new slave.

But none of them were allowed to talk. Especially with there gags in place. It made it impossible.

After about an hour of yoga. They turned on music. Music like you’d hear in some low budget porn video. It had that 70’s porn groove sound going for it.

The leader of the slave girls. Who was allowed to talk. Motivated them all into aerobic type of dancing.

“ Get that cardio up slaves! “
She yells out to them. As they all bent forward together. Shaking there hips and ass’s.

“ Damn! This is the kind of shit? I used to watch on Showtime after hours? “
Misty says.

Remember the breaks between the soft core R rated porn. That usually took place in Europe somewhere? And usually had some girl named Emanuel as the lead character?

That girl was hot! I used to jerk off watching that shit all the time.

But they had those aerobic dancers all sweating like hell. With there big 80’s perms. And cleavage out on display. Usually there was about 4 of them dancing opposite of one another. With there butts all facing one another.

Oh that shit was Hot!

That’s the same style of exercise that Misty and all the slaves were doing.

In no time Misty was pouring sweat and about to fall flat on her face.

“ Shake those tits slaves! “
The lead slave yells. As she demonstrated with perfection.

After about 20 minutes they all were falling down in exhaustion.

They then were allowed a break. Without gags. And each was given a bottle of water.

Though it was a break. But none were allowed to relax comfortably. The usual slave position. All on there knees. Slave spread in lined formation. And of course no talking was allowed.

They all sipped there water. And tried to hold there positions as directed. A slave not doing so. Was usually corrected swiftly with a swat to the ass with the dreaded riding crop.
A jump and a painful yelp was often heard. And that slave tightened up her game almost instantly.

Again all the new slaves eyes was on the sexy blonde in the front row. The only one that had the big D brand burned into her perfect looking ass.

She seemed at ease with all this. As if she was in a deep mindset of meditation. Yes she had what the others would within time would come to know as slave brain.
It’s like some personal safe space within yourself. Where you could go. No matter what your physical body was going through. Torture, humiliation. Or whatever Hell your master or mistress puts on you. You can survive and thrive with the slave brain mentality.

After another hour. They were told to stand. And were all marched like naked slave soldiers in military like formation. Straight to the showers.

The lead slave handed them all disposable razors. Even though they all had been waxed free of any unwanted body hair during processing. They all were instructed to inspect each other’s bodies. And help one another. With the razor of course.

It’s funny how damn fast that hair starts to grow back. There bodies could be inspected at anytime. By a handler, wrangler. Or the expert slave that was in charge of training them. It was soon discovered that the expert slave left no stone unturned. Cause if she fails. Then her ass gets whipped also.
After there shower and shave time. They all were given tooth brushes. Oral hygiene was also very important. Nobody wants a slave with yellow rotting teeth.
They were then trained on keeping there nails clipped short. Fingers and toes were closely inspected. And clear polish was only allowed. Keeping the slaves beauty. As natural as possible.

They were then taken back to there poodle cages. Secured and allowed to bed down for the night.

Misty and all the others quickly fell asleep. This slave life was exhausting. She thought to herself. Wishing so badly she was back at home. Curled up on the couch. And demanding that I pamper her. And spoil her the way I always did. That was only things now to dream about.

The days that followed. Seemed to be more of the same. Though they did change things up. Some days they would be weight training. Others it would be more cardio. As expert slave put Misty’s fat ass on a treadmill. Speeding it up. Making her run. Barefoot on a treadmill wasn’t fun. After 30 minutes her feet felt as if they were on fire.
But slowly but surely. Her body got slimmer and stronger. The slave slop and kibble diet, also was helping out of course. And water only to drink. She soon lost the cravings for her beloved Pepsi products. And though she’d probably kill for a Marlboro Red. She did seem to breath better and didn’t cough as much. Since she’d been smoking since the innocent age of six. Starting by lightning her moms cigarettes as mom drove.

“ If mom does it? It must be okay? “
Misty always rationalized in her head. Even though that was frowned upon by other adults. Especially during her grammar school years in the 70’s.

On another day. The slaves were all allowed to go outside. This was really nice. Getting fresh air. Seeing the beautiful landscaped grounds that were meticulously maintained by worker slaves. Though surrounded by a high electrified fence with razor wire. They could see the cars and trucks pass by. And usually a group of boys would stop. And take pleasure in watching the naked slave girls while they were out. The soft green grass felt good to there feet. As they walked about, wherever they were being led.
On this particular day they were led to a open shed. Where they all set there eyes on different types of chariots, and buggies.

Yes it was pony girl training time.

“ WTF??? “
Misty mumbled through her cum soaked ball gag.

The pony girls were nothing new to Misty.
She’d seen them throughout her life. Usually around the holiday season. Or the summer tourism months. When those rich obnoxious Yankees would pass through on there way to the coast. In there gas guzzling motor homes. SUV’s or that smaller car with that dorky looking box on top. Usually with two or three bicycles hooked on the back.

All would come into the small historic town for some true southern hospitality. Maybe some home cooked meal from Granny’s diner.
Whorisville Mississippi had that old time feel to it. When you drove into town on that old bumpy broken concrete highway. That probably ain’t been paved since pavement was invented. You just knew you were in the south.
By the smell of the Jasmine. The blooming azaleas. And the giant magnolias had a true beauty to them. That no way could the shit hole dumps of the north east could ever compare.

And the main attraction was the well disciplined authentic pony girl. They were loved by all. And the pony girls loved to perform for there audience. They thrived on the attention they got. As they in teams pulled the wagons of tourists around the town square.
In slave world it was a privilege to be a pony girl.

But pony girl training was no fun at all. The new slaves had to be broke. Like that of a wild horse.
And that for sure wasn’t gonna be a pleasant experience.

Misty was harnessed up to a single seat sulky. Her gag was replaced with a bridal and bitt.

“ Getty up slave! “
The 200 pound man yells out. As he cracked a whip across her back.
And off she goes. Digging her toes into the grass for traction. Pulling him around, as the others watched with horrific fear in there eyes.

“ Faster! “
He barks, cracking the whip again.

“ I expect you to perform slave! We got a race to win at the state fair! “
He informs her.

“ Shit! “
She mumbles to herself. As the sun beams down on her porcelain white naked skin. Pouring sweat. As the whip left bright red welts of pure agony.
Her legs aching and shaking. More so than they ever had at the squat rack in the weight room.

She knew then why the weight training was so important to the slaves.

A few agonizing minutes later. She had all she could take and collapsed.

A few slave handlers rushed over and freed her from her restraints. One of them picked her up off the ground in his strong arms. Like she was light as a feather. And carried her to the shade of a magnolia tree. And gently set her down. And gave her a bottle of water.

“ Good job slave! “ He said with a smile. It was the first human like interaction she’d experienced in a slaves world. Finally an act of kindness by somebody. It truly touched and warmed her heart.
And for the first time. She was allowed to sit on her ass and relax. While from a distance. She watched all the others take there turns. All suffered the same fate as Misty. All except one. The branded blonde. Who pulled that 200 pound man on that sulky like he was noticing. She sped up to a steady trot and barely broke a sweat.

They all watched in total ahhh. At how this slave performed. And another surprise to them all was that for the first time. The slaves were allowed to talk quietly among themselves. As there handlers watched from a distance.
The only one in the crowd Misty knew of was the young reporter from just the Tv news. And the former prosecutor. Who she faced in court for her DUI and shoplifting charges a few years back.
It was satisfying to her to see her get run through the mill as a slave.
She was lucky she wasn’t enslaved for the charges. Probably was the only thing that saved her was the high end attorney that her mother hired to get her out of it. So luckily she didn’t have to deal with the two crooked defense attorneys. That would have made her take a plea deal. Which almost always led to an enslavement. Or costed a shit load of money and debt.
Most the slave girls quickly became friends. And looked out for one another. They were kind of doing that anyway. As they showered together. And shaved one another in awkward private places. Where only a separate pair of eyes could see. They just did all that without talking of course.

After the last pony girl in training fell. And had a break. They all were snapped back in formation. And marched back for a much needed shower.