(This story arc takes place in an alternative reality where legal slavery exists in the United States as depicted in the stories by Joe Doe, Carl Bradford, Gentlemanmariner and a number of others. I also want to thank Carl for editing much of my work, which greatly improved the final product. All persons enslaved, involved in slavery operations or described in explicit sex scenes are aged 18 years or older.)
My internal clock quickly adjusted to my new circumstances. I now awoke a few minutes prior to our official wake up. Taking a moment to relish that warm comfortable feeling cuddling with Lindsey, I contemplated an explicit dream that I woke up to that left me horny with a throbbing pussy. In my fantasy I was a ponygirl hobbled in a stable being bred by a big stallion equipped with a good-sized cock, the stallion just happened to be Calum, as people casually walked by and I whinnied in bliss. After Mistress Kara had us "loosened up" with dildos last night I expected that we would be bred during pony play today, hence the unambiguous dream last night.
The dream focused my thoughts back on Calum and how much I missed my man. This new life of a slave had become so chaotic that I rarely had free moments to pine over my lost fiancé, except when I awoke early like this. How I longed to wake up once again engulfed in his strong arms as he held me close while spooning me. I adored those moments when I would roll over and just watch him sleep, sometimes running my fingers through his tousled hair or along his jawline feeling the stubble of his beard. Often I would awaken him with light kisses. His beautiful gray eyes would flutter open and I would lose myself in their depth as he uttered "good morning beautiful" or "my vision of loveliness" which was my personal favorite. God, I missed him so, his scent, the feel of his skin upon mine and the warmth of his body. Most importantly feeling loved as he held me safely in his sturdy arms. I missed him so much, especially those moments when ....
The lights flashed on, startling Lindsey awake to shouts from girls to get up and get moving. The chain attached to our collars released. As had become our morning ritual I rolled over and gave her a quick hug, kissed her on the cheek, whispering, "Together forever." Then I quickly got out of the way as Lindsey's "small bladder" leapt to her feet announcing her need to pee. She dragged me off to the bathroom to take care of business and our morning routine. Lindsey's bladder always ensured that we were on time for our morning slave yoga.
This morning we were off to the Parker Center equine facility located somewhere on the outskirts of Dallas. It turned out that pony play was a rite of passage for Broadstone consorts. Part of the tradition included zero information for the new students as to what to expect from our tight-lipped sisters who had been there before us. The standard line was something along the lines of, "have fun" or "just enjoy it" followed by knowing giggles. The one thing they told us about was the "horse trailers" used to transport the ponygirls. They regaled us with stories of being dressed in our ponygirl outfits at the school, then walked into a "horse trailer" and restrained in the standing position together and left in the dark for the trip. Being pulled behind a loud F-150 spewing diesel fumes and driven by a tall overweight hygienically challenged redneck named Al all the way to the Parker Center. One lucky slave girl always gets to "slave tip" Al with her mouth before the girls are led out of the trailer. Three even told me that Al had an affinity for red-heads. Yikes! This sounded awful.
Lindsey and I were allowed to look up the Parker Center facility online in the days leading up to our pony play date. It was the preeminent ponygirl/boy training and recreational establishment in the region. It hosted harness racing, steeplechase, and dressage events. The center trained and stabled ponies with available "play" stables for "quality time" with your pony. There were also carriage trails where owners could go out into the country pulled by their ponies for picnics or just to get some fresh air. There was even a map with all of the randomly placed breeding stands that were available for use. All individuals participating in sexual activities on site, whether free or slave, were required to pass an Insta STD test validating they were disease free. This also meant that condoms were not required leaving some ponygirls a dripping mess if subject to multiple breedings.
The famous Breeding Barn Café, where patrons enjoyed fine dining or a drink at the bar, was located at Parker Center. The terraced seating was arranged such that ponygirls were hobbled in the middle of the establishment and bred by stallions as entertainment. Older ponygirls, often those who had given birth, were referred to as "mares" while younger women without children were called "fillies". It was not uncommon for couples into pony play to have the ponygirl FINO wives hobbled and bred by a train of stallions while the husbands compared notes at the bar regarding their mare's performance.
The sensors in their ponygirl tails apparently tracked their climaxes, announcing for all to see when a red siren-like light located above the breeding stand lit up. The website had a short video clip of a breeding depicting a humiliating scene where the poor ponygirl was tied down and vigorously pounded by a big well hung stallion. That red light kept turning on again and again and again, indicating that this particular mare was having a hell of a good time. There was also a patron breeding area out back aptly named the Petting Zoo where patrons, with the owner's permission of course, could breed the ponygirls in private stalls.
As part of our research we learned that there were different types of ponygirls. Some were solely trained for competition in harness racing or the dressage events while others were jacks of all trades. The dressage events in my opinion were ballet in hooves while dressed like a horse. The male events were broken down into subcategories of stallions and geldings with the stallions concentrated in harness racing while the geldings focused on the dressage events.
All ponies at the center wore a specialized electronic choke collar that transforms any attempt at human speech into corresponding horse sounds. This effectively eliminated all normal forms of human communication. I giggled at the thought of how one of these would translate some of the expressions I made when climaxing into horse sounds. Lindsey being the type-A perfectionist even had me practicing tossing my head while whinnying and stomping my right hoof, making the universal pony gesture for yes.
This morning it was good to be naked again in slave yoga without restrictions. All three of my climaxes involved visualizing my Calum stallion breeding his little filly with his horse shaft. According to the Parker Center website, stallions have shafts, not cocks. It was nice to be able to start the day off right again. What did this say about me I wondered? At the end of slave yoga Mistress Kara again identified the six of us participating in pony play today. Each of us had to have three enemas during personal hygiene, eat an extra half can of slave chow and to meet Mistress Kara at her desk with a full water bottle at 7:50 a.m. sharp for inspection. After breakfast and getting cleansed and cleaned up we all passed inspection.
Security Officer Haynes was waiting for us and took control of us from Mistress Kara. We were advised by SO Haynes that she was responsible for getting us on our "horse trailer" for transportation to Parker Center and that she would accompany us for the trip. Then she led us away to a chorus of whinnies from our sisters who were enjoying our discomfort. Our "horse trailer" turned out to be an eight passenger van with tinted windows. Before boarding we were given "flip flops" for our feet. We were unrestrained for safety reasons and reminded that our collars could knock us out if we misbehaved. Finally, we were reminded that it was going to be a hot day in early June. SO Haynes directed us to empty our water bottles before arriving to insure we were properly hydrated and then we were off. Is there something wrong with me if deep down a part of me was still looking forward to "slave tipping" Al?
During our trip there was time to reflect upon my current situation with regards to my past life and my relationship with Calum. I was steadfast in my belief that Calum was searching for me and once found we would be reunited. This one constant kept me going. For some reason I did not feel as though I was unfaithful to Calum when having sex with Lindsey and my sister slaves. It simply did not feel like cheating because no men were involved. Today at the Parker Center I knew that I would have sex with a man at least once if not more. It was simply unavoidable. Mentally I had accepted this when I fell asleep last night but what did it say about my relationship with Calum if I enjoyed the sex acts by climaxing?
