Charlotte's Arrival

Charlotte -- Arrival

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Author's note: This story is set in the fantasy world of legal slavery created by Joe_Doe_Stories and expanded by many others.

Many thanks to: Avicia, Carl_Bradford, MrSmith27, and EroticStorySpinner for their edits and guidance.

This story contains no characters who are, or who appear to be, less than 18 years of age. No real girls were enslaved to write this story.

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Cassie pulled up to Charlotte's house and watched in alarm as Charlotte carried two large cardboard boxes out to the car and put them in the back seat of her car. Cassie didn't know what was in them, but she was pretty sure she saw Mr. Monkey's arm sticking out of the top box. Mr. Monkey was a plushie toy and probably the only thing in Charlotte's life that was more enduring than her friendship with Cassie. Mr. Monkey had been a fixture in every sleepover that Cassie had ever had with her... and that was many. The two girls had been besties since third grade.

Charlotte jumped into Cassie's car, looked around nervously, and urgently told her to "Go-go, drive-drive, we need to go now before she comes back!"

Regardless of her friend's urgency, Cassie turned on her blinkers and looked both ways before pulling sedately out of the driveway. A girl couldn't be too careful these days. Too many driving tickets could lead to penal slavery. And the police loved pulling over attractive young women. Any valid excuse would do, and any excuse to search their cars for contraband -- planted or otherwise -- would also do. The North Dallas police department was very professional, but some of the smaller towns had extremely shady practices. So, Cassie was always careful. She couldn't make the possibility of unjust enslavement disappear, but she could minimize it to the best of her ability.

Apparently dissatisfied with Cassie's failure to peal out of the driveway like a jet-powered race car in a spy novel, Charlotte ducked out of view and laid her head down on Cassie's lap.

Cassie was not in the least bit displeased with this turn of events, even though she found Charlotte's behavior extremely dramatic and puzzling. Although both girls preferred boys as romantic partners, they had each had their first kiss together on one of their sleepovers and had even experimented further. Cassie gently stroked her friend's golden-brown ponytail as she drove, thinking furiously.

"Charlotte," she began hesitantly, "you're acting like an escaped slave, you know that, right? What's going on? I know things have been difficult with your mom lately, but running away isn't going to solve anything."

Charlotte didn't speak right away. But she did put up a finger to let Cassie know that she was thinking about her response. They had been friends for so long that the two girls had their own unspoken language of gestures and signs.

Lying in Cassie's lap, Charlotte was silent for some time. As Cassie was eased onto the on-ramp for I-695, Charlotte finally sighed and sat up. As she did so, she continued to hold one finger in the air to indicate that it was still her turn to talk, and only her turn to talk. Then it all began to spill out in a rush.

"Cassie," she said, "my mother is trying to enslave me. My 18th birthday was three weeks ago and she started pressuring me to get slave-graded right away. I thought it was odd, I thought it was suspicious. You know how she is. She has some kind of selfish ulterior motive for everything she does. I have another month and a half to get the slave grade that I need in order to qualify for my student loans, so there's no need to rush. It's ridiculous.

"I asked her why she was pushing me," Cassie continued, "and she gave me some lame excuse about how she wanted to get me graded so she could brag to her friends about my grade. That's actually kinda-sorta believable because everything I do, she takes credit for. That's just how she is, and you know that. I'm pretty sure that she told about 700 people how smart and beautiful I was and how I was class valedictorian and got accepted to Harvard. Taking all the credit herself, of course. It was all those late night study sessions and academic coaching classes she paid for and whatnot. Nothing to do with my own efforts, natch."

Charlotte put her finger down, inviting comment.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if any of that had actually taken place," Cassie commented drily.

"Exactly," Charlotte agreed, putting her finger back up. "Everything is arranged. I can start at Harvard this fall. The grants are approved, the loans are approved, the family financial contribution level has been calculated. All I need to do is get any halfway-acceptable slave grade sometime in the next five weeks. I've even picked out my first semester of classes. Any slave grade at all and I'm home free. But she's been pestering me for months about working hard on my slave yoga routine. Now THAT she was willing to spend money on for extracurricular lessons. So why pressure me to have my grading take place literally days after my 18th birthday when I still had three weeks of high school left and finals and graduation were coming up? Why would she do that? It made me suspicious."

Charlotte stopped her rant and sighed deeply, seeming to deflate in her seat. The sweet, bubbly girl that Cassie had known and loved for fifteen years seemed to fade away, leaving only a cold husk.

"So I snooped," she continued in a soft voice. "I snooped on her computer and discovered that my mother... my own mother... is planning on enslaving me and pocketing the money for herself."

"What?" Cassie screamed, turning to look at her friend and inadvertently swerving halfway into the next lane.

"Watch the road, honey, watch the road," Charlotte told her calmly, putting her hand on the wheel to stabilize it. "I'm already over it, I've been planning my getaway for two weeks now and today is the day."

"Okay," Cassie started calmly, "you DO know that you can't be enslaved involuntarily unless you commit a crime or run up huge debts, right? As far as I know, and I know you well, you're not a criminal or a... spendthrift with huge credit card bills. Heck, you can't even GET a credit card without a slave grade."

"I know, watch the road," Charlotte said with a resigned sigh. "But there are things that can be done. The first one, obviously, is some kind of skullduggery at the auction house during your slave grading. I know, forewarned is forearmed, so I think she would have difficulty pulling that off now that I know about her wicked plan. But there are other things that can be done. It's not just urban legends, you know. There really are shadowy groups of unethical slavers that can enslave almost anyone if they have inside help. Husband, sister, lover, wife... MOM."

Charlotte released an agonized sigh as Cassie's 'basic transportation' Hyundai buzzed down the highway, then continued, "They just need someone on the inside, someone trusted, to give them the inside info and they can set the whole thing up. It's a real thing. Mom had a link to a website called "How to Enslave Your Daughter and Pocket the Money". It pretends to be a joke website so the feds don't go after them, but the strategies and techniques are real. I researched the heck out of it on the school library computer. I don't trust my own laptop anymore. I don't even trust my phone. It's turned off, by the way, and sitting on my bed. Don't worry, all the pictures we've taken over the years have all been uploaded to cloud storage, so nothing is lost."

"Anyway," Charlotte continued in her soft, sweet voice, "I came up with a plan to defeat her... and her allies. It just means that my college plans have to go on hold for a bit. I've signed a voluntary indenture contract for the next two years."

"What!" Cassie shrieked, again swerving a bit as she turned to her friend. This time, Charlotte was ready for her, and she put her hand out to keep her friend's car in the correct lane.

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"How does that make any sense at all?" Cassie screamed, "Oh gee, I'm worried about being sold into slavery, so I went ahead and sold myself into slavery! that makes zero fucking sense!"

"It makes perfect sense," Charlotte replied calmly, while looking about in order to ensure that their wobbling trajectory hadn't attracted the attention of predatory law enforcement agents.

"You see, if I sell myself, that ensures that I get the money myself and Angela is cut out. 'Angela' is my mother's name by the way, I refuse to call her 'Mother' ever again. The sales price goes into my peculium, which is a sort of trust fund for slaves to use when they get out. It's standard slavery practice, so it's not risky at all. On the day of my manumission - two years from now - I become a person again and I gain control of my money. Then I can go to college. The ranch will even negotiate with the school in order to make sure that my admission is put on hold and not cancelled. The ranch I sold myself to has a reputation for fair dealing and they even give the slaves a percentage of revenues and tips."

"Ranch?" Cassie asked, trying to maintain her attention on the road. Her very best friend was sitting next to her and calmly explaining that she had sold herself into slavery. The road was calming, it was predictable, the white lines ahead of her formed a clear path. Her safe and happy suburban world was being torn apart by her best friend's calm, sweet voice and she needed to get them both safely to their destination. She focused on the road.

"Yeah, 'ranch'," replied Charlotte. "It's a human pony ranch called the HH Ranch. They're the ones that provided the pony carts for prom, remember that?"

Cassie DID remember that. It was so much fun. The North Dallas School District contracted with local human pony businesses to provide transportation from the parking lots to the prom venue. It was really classy. Cassie remembered sitting in her cart watching the athletic pony girls pulling her cart with a mixture of sorrow, revulsion... and envy. They were so sexy in their tights and leather harnesses! Due to the fact that it was a school function and some of the participants (like Charlotte at the time) were underage, the pony girls (and boys) had worn tights while they were working. But Cassie also knew that human ponies were almost always naked while serving. And by "serving", she knew that meant that they also provided sexual services, not just draft-animal services. Her very best friend in all the world had just calmly informed her that she was going to be a draft animal and sex slave, sold to the highest bidder for the next two years. It was awful. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. She loved Charlotte so much and this was too much to bear. Charlotte shouldn't be forced into this... no one should!

Charlotte looked at her friend with concern. She placed her small, warm hand on Cassie's denim-clad thigh. "It's okay, honey," she said. "This is MY choice, this is the path that I have chosen, no one else. Yeah, Angela forced me into it, but it is what it is. This is MY path and I've chosen it of my own free will. I'm going to be a human pony for two years, and then I'm going to carry on with my career. It's already set up. The Ranch has an arrangement with the National Association for the Advancement of Collared Persons. The NAACP will smooth everything over. As long as I come out of my two years of slavery mentally intact, they'll make sure that Harvard honors its enrollment offer. Just like that, it's done. It will happen. It will be fine. Two years later than I originally planned, but it will still happen. Plus, there will be a lot less college debt than I would have had otherwise. So it's really a win/win for me. I just have to serve for two years in a collar. That's all."

Cassie sighed a sad, heartbroken sigh. She took off her glasses and put them on the dashboard. She wiped her eyes. She kept her now slightly blurry vision on the road. Charlotte's safety was her responsibility and Cassie was going to get her to her destination safe and sound. What happened to her next was... worrisome.

They were approaching the interchange where Interstate-35 East merged with I-35 West and became I-35 South. In a few more miles they would pass through Hillsboro and reach the rest area they were heading toward. The two girls continued in silence.

"Who are you going to meet at the rest area?" Cassie asked.

"Boss Monica," Charlotte replied, "she's the head recruiter for the Ranch. She's on her way to Waco and she'll give me a lift the rest of the way there. So you won't need to drive me the full distance. The Southwest Regional Pony Association is having their quarterly auction in Waco and that's where I need to be to surrender myself. It's in the contract. This is their biggest event for each year because the high school students are graduating and available for sale."

She said it so matter-of-factly, Cassie thought. "The high school students are graduating and available for sale." Just thinking those words hurt her brain and her heart. Graduating high school students were supposed to enjoy a golden summer between high school and college - living life, enjoying themselves drinking and partying. They weren't supposed to be handing themselves over to the cruel and callous lusts of old men. And that's who was going to be buying these girls. Old... men. Old men who had worked hard and earned enough money to buy or rent sex slaves. Sure, the Hallmark slave romances were heavily populated with sexy young dot.com millionaires and European aristocrats who inherited their money. But the truth of the matter was that men worked hard for years and eventually earned enough money to buy a sex slave. That's who Charlotte was selling herself to. Sure, her owner was going to be some so-called "ranch", but her real users were going to be a faceless, nameless horde of random businessmen, executives, oil barons, politicians, and so on. They were going to pollute and poison her youth and innocence with their own sexual greed. It was unfathomable that society would allow this, it was...

"You okay, Cass?" asked Charlotte.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered as she wiped away another veil of unsummoned tears. "I'm just so upset that it's to come to this. You haven't done anything wrong. You've always been a good girl. You're not a criminal or a druggie or a... I dunno... a profligate spender or anything. None of this is your fault."

"I know," Charlotte replied quietly. "I'm none of those things. What I am is a talented girl with lots of potential who doesn't have the family support to attend the top school in the nation. Without Angela's financial help, I just don't have the money for it. It is what it is. That's my dad's saying, by the way. He was a strong man. A hard-working man. That's what he used to say before he died in that oil rig blowout. He said, 'You need to take what you have and make it work.' I have what I have and I'm going to make it work. I'm young, I'm sexy, I'm athletic, and I'm going to use that while I can and get the money I need to go forward. Angela wants to spend it on herself and I'm not going to let her. I'm going to spend it on me and, hopefully, make a better life for myself and my husband and children when they come into my life. I'm going to make it happen, just like Daddy said. He said, 'Do what you can with what you got.' That's what I'm going to do."

They were driving through Hillsboro now and both girls were silent, lost in their own thoughts and emotional turmoil. Cassie was very impressed with her friend right now. Cassie had always been the leader of their friend group. Charlotte had always been the sweet, gentle, emotionally supportive one. Everyone loved that about her. She didn't deserve this fate. If anyone deserved slavery, Charlotte wasn't even at the bottom of the list. She was NOWHERE on the list. It was NOT fair.

"What can I do to help?" asked Cassie with a tear running down her cheek. "Anything at all, you name it, I'm your girl. I'll do anything at all to make this better."

"Can you keep my boxes safe for me?" Charlotte asked in a very small voice. "I just took some clothes and mementoes of my childhood and my dad. I left almost everything else behind. And umm... please take Mr. Monkey out and put him on your bed with your plushies so he doesn't get lonely. I'll come back for him, I promise, just let him know that."

"Honey, I'm going to cuddle him every night until you come back home. There's no way that's not going to happen," Cassie replied with a sob and a new gush of tears. She could barely see the road now, and passively allowed Charlotte to gently take control of the steering wheel to guide her into the off ramp to the upcoming rest area.

"Left," Charlotte said in a monotone voice as they approached a blurry sign guarding a fork in the road. Cassie wiped her tears as they approached the rest area's buildings.

"Keep going," Charlotte said in the same, toneless manner. Apparently, she was all cried out at this point. Now, only her own iron willpower and determination was keeping the two girls going.

"Right there," Charlotte told her, pointing at a robin's egg blue dual-cab pickup truck. The side doors had the legend "HH Pony Ranch" on the side of the bed, and the HH brand -- an elongated letter "H" with a double crossbar, surrounded by a diamond -- on the door. A nylon sports bag sat on a nearby picnic table and a dark-haired woman wearing jeans, boots, and a cowgirl shirt stood on the sidewalk in front of the truck. As they pulled into the parking spot next to the truck, she checked the time on her phone, then walked over to the picnic table as she waited for the two girls to finish parking.

"That's her. That's Monica, the lady from the ranch. She was at our prom with the ponies handing out flyers. That's where I got the idea," Charlotte continued. "Come on, let's talk to her and then I need to go tinkle."

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Enslavement

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The two girls exited the vehicle and approached Monica.

"Charlotte Neuer, I see you're right on time. That's good, who's your friend?"

"Oh, umm, this is my friend Cassie? She gave me a ride here and she's holding my stuff while I'm... umm..." Charlotte's voice trailed off before she could bring herself to say, "While I'm a slave."

"Good. Nice to meet you, Cassie," Monica stepped forward and shook Cassie's hand. Cassie noticed that she had a very firm grip, the grip of someone who frequently worked with their hands.

"Charlotte, did you bring the paperwork?"

"No Ma'am, I got rid of it so my mom wouldn't find out what I did until too late. I didn't know what she would do, so I just got rid of it. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Sure, honey, it's fine. The digital copies are already filed with the state, so it doesn't really matter what happens to the actual papers."

Then Monica's demeanor suddenly changed from warm and welcoming to cold and commanding. "Charlotte Neuer, who is known to me by sight, by meeting me here as a legal representative of the HH Ranch, you have surrendered yourself into slavery. Since you have not yet been slave graded, you do not have a SIN number, so you will be addressed as "slave" until you receive a number or a name. You will be given a slave name that you will use until your two year indenture is complete. You will not use or respond to your former human name for those two years, do you understand me, slave? Kneel!"

The slave formerly known as Charlotte immediately dropped to her knees. It all happened so fast that her mind had no chance to catch up to what just happened to her. But her body, conditioned by two years of the State of Texas' mandatory slave yoga classes, responded without conscious volition. She dropped to her knees in the dry grass on the side of I-35, bowed her head, and raised her ponytail up so that she could be collared. If anyone from the Texas Board of Education's Future Livestock Conditioning Program had been present, they would have been very pleased.