(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.)
The Breeding Barn Café was only a fifteen minute trot from Bender's pond. The heat and humidity in the early afternoon in the first part of June had all the ponies sweating and in need of water. On the way I had more time to ponder whether it was good or bad luck running into Daphne as I balanced the pros and cons of her posting pictures and videos of me as a ponygirl on social media. This might help Calum find me or cause him to stop looking altogether once my reputation was destroyed. It just seemed like really bad luck that both Lindsey and I ran into people we knew who despised us. Little did I know that it would only get worse for poor Lindsey.
As we trotted up to the Breeding Barn Café, a party bus was disgorging a boisterous bachelorette party of animated young ladies who likely had already imbibed. They saw us parking the buggies and decided to check out the six large sweating, fit and hung stallions. It was truly amazing the number of crude comments they uttered discussing which stallion they preferred, especially when comparing the stallion's shafts. Giggles erupted when three of the stallions became erect listening to the women.
Most of the stallions had their penises pierced with what looked like a wide array of jewelry that I had never seen before. The only one I recognized was a very large Prince Albert piercing on Viande. Some had barbells piercing the heads of their penises. Those and the Prince Albert looked painful to receive, making me feel sorry for the poor stallions. Many had a large hoop located between the base of their cocks and the scrotum. The hoops were only visible on the ones sporting erections. I wondered why they were pierced as I doubted it was for the stallion's pleasure. Then I began to wonder what it would feel like having one of those pierced studs inside me. Would it hit my newly discovered G spot just right if we were in the right positions? My loins started throbbing in anticipation once again as I expected to be bred by at least one if not more of these male specimens.
When the discussion devolved into a proposed hand job contest, Hank Bradford stepped in. He advised the "young ladies" that the Breeding Barn staff often allowed the bride and maid of honor to assist the pony whisperers in getting the studs erect, lubed and lined up for breeding so long as they had tables on the floor. The bride blushed in embarrassment at the thought while the maid of honor pumped her fist in triumph advising her favorite stallion, "I'll be seeing YOU inside." The sober one trying to chaperone this group advised that they had a reservation for those seats and would see us inside as she herded the women away.
One of the girls, an attractive (in her own way) tall fit tomboyish or butch looking woman in her early twenties, hung back observing our group. For some reason she seemed focused on Lindsey. When Lindsey spied this woman I swear my sister slave turned pale with a horrified look on her face. I would later learn that this woman was Beth Simmons who was a soccer rival from high school here in Dallas. The rivalry continued with Beth playing for Texas Christian University (TCU) and Lindsey attending the University of Texas. This last season Lindsey beat out Beth for first team all-Big 12 for the defending midfielder position. Lindsey made the first team and Beth was on the second team. Beth took it as a personal affront to lose to Lindsey. She was also jealous of Lindsey's academic all-American and national second team all-American awards.
Hank took charge when we arrived, getting all of the stallions lined up and making contact with the staff confirming the reservation he made on the way in. He walked up to an attractive older ponygirl who was being prepped for the breeding bench.
"Thwack." Hank slapped the mare hard on the ass, causing her to jump whinnying shrilly in surprise.
"How's my favorite mare doing this afternoon?" he asked, kissing her on the nape of her neck as he fingered her pussy. His fingers came away wet as she whinnied happily. The affection each of them felt for the other was evident in their interactions. I could see the love radiating between them as did most everyone else in the room.
"Aunt Nancy, is that you?" asked Carl Bradford, a shocked look on his face. What's going on here?"
"Carl, my brother, your father, didn't want you to know about this arrangement between me and your aunt until you turned eighteen. Now that you are eighteen we want you to know the truth. Your Aunt Nancy signed a FINO slave contract with me years ago, making our pony play legal. Rosebud here is about to be bred by my two stallions out on the stage," explained Hank, grinning at Carl as Rosebud whinnied enthusiastically.
"My friends were always calling Aunt Nancy, I mean Rosebud here, the hottest MILF in the neighborhood. She looks even better dressed like a ponygirl. Can I touch her?" asked Carl.
"After the show you can do more than touch her. There is a reason I named her Rosebud," chuckled Hank. Remember, here at the Breeding Barn MILF stands for Mare I'd Like to Fuck. After the show we can take her back to the Petting Zoo and you can explore Rosebud's rosebud, so to say. Sound like a plan?"
"Does it ever!" exclaimed Carl, as he and his uncle headed to their table as Rosebud was eagerly led down a hallway to the breeding bench.
Watching this exchange was simply surreal. The subservient relationship she had with Hank appealed to me. I felt a bond with Rosebud, a bond that I could not rationally explain other than a part of me longed for a relationship like that with Calum. I wouldn't mind being her right now walking down that hallway to the breeding bench as my slave heat raged at the possibilities. I really had become a total ponyslut today.
Penny, accompanied by Daphne and Maribelle, took control of Lindsey and myself and we were quickly led into the holding pen. Our first stop was the pee grate where we relieved ourselves while our rivals jeered at how we had been turned into animals. Then Penny removed our bridles and bits, wiped us down and rehydrated us. In the background we could hear the reverberations of ponies mating and the cheers of the crowd. The sounds made me nervous about what was about to happen to us while also stimulating my arousal.
Beth took this opportunity to pull Daphne and Maribelle aside. The three of them had an animated conversation, often taking sidelong glances in our direction with mischievous grins on their faces. Beth pulled something out of her purse, handing the items to Daphne and Maribelle. After it appeared that an agreement had been reached, Beth shook hands with Daphne and Maribelle and left.
Daphne and Maribelle rejoined us asking Penny if she needed any help getting us ready for the show. Penny replied that she had to check in with the staff and use the ladies room, asking that they keep providing us with water. While Penny was gone Daphne pulled out a bag with sugar cubes, taking one and handing the bag to Maribelle.
"Spice, you have been a really good filly today and I just wanted to reward you with a treat," smiled Daphne innocently, holding out the sugar cube in the palm of her hand.
After almost a week of surviving solely on Purina slave chow, these pony sugar cubes were a welcome change of pace. They reminded me of the Christmas peppermint candy puffs we had for the holidays when as a child I could never just have one. I whinnied eagerly and I bent forward scooping up the cube in my mouth like a horse and savoring the flavor as the sugar cube melted in my mouth. It is amazing what can make a slave girl truly happy. "Can I have another?" I whinnied hopefully only to have my hopes crushed by Daphne reverting to her Princess of Darkness persona.
