Being the slave of a vindictive former peer would always be difficult; being the slave of this entitled b____ while she used me to enjoy her college years was excruciating. The only time I got to wear clothing was when she dragged me to classes to carry her books, take notes for her, etc. The moment that class was over, she would insist that I strip to the waist, then she reattached my "jiggle bells" to ensure that everyone on campus noticed my public progress. To add to my misery, during the last five minutes of class she would finger-fuck me (at her insistence, I always wore a mini-skirt with no panties, to ensure easy access.) This left me aroused and frustrated, sometimes dripping down my legs as she strutted across campus, leading me by a leash attached to my collar or (more commonly) my nipple rings. Damn, it hurt when she jerked on me there.
The only relief I got from this humiliation, and it was minimal relief, at that, was when she decided to send me to the university slave kennels for the night. In theory, all slaves were expected to live, eat, and sleep there except when their owners summoned them to duty. At the entrance to the kennels were two locker rooms where we kept our clothes, since of course slaves wore only collars--and occasionally flip-flops--inside the facility. Although our mandatory service (I'll get to it) was a further restriction on our already-subjugated existence, most of the time being in the kennels was relaxing, and we acted as friends to support each other. Of course, being the B-word that she was, Janey would only give me permission to have sex two nights a week, and one of those nights was dedicated to mandatory service. Still, I decided that if my mistress expected me to be a slut, I might as well enjoy my servitude as much as possible. You'll forgive my arrogance when I tell you that a blond, blue-eyed, well-built young woman could ALWAYS find another slave with either a stiff prick or a juicy pussy, allowing me to release some of the frustrations I experienced the rest of the week.
The "mandatory service" also sometimes helped me. One evening (or two days) per week, each slave was on call to serve in a slave brothel that was part of the kennels. For $50 an hour (which helped pay for kennel operations), anyone who could prove to be age 18 got his (or her) choice of the available slaves to play with in one of the tiny bedrooms. (The owner could override this and require his/her slave to be free that night, but only by paying $100 per evening to the kennels, which for all her complaining Janey would not pay for. Whatever she might call me, my Mistress couldn't really describe me as a "cheap" whore!) In the meantime, though, my services as a kennel slut varied widely--sometimes, a nice student or even a professor would just rent my company, and we'd have a normal conversation mixed with heavy petting. The best of these visitors was the guy who had saved me at Janey's pool party--Jimmy Orbey. He was majoring in computer science, and he came just to keep me company. The first several times, all he would do physically was to kiss my cheek. Eventually, I insisted that I owed him a voluntary f___ because he had saved me from so many involuntary ones. Imagine my surprise when Jimmy turned out to have one of the longest and thickest schlongs I had ever accommodated--and after eight months as a sex slave, believe me I'd seen all lengths and calibers! Jimmy was, understandably, very inexperienced (I think I may have taken HIS virginity), but he was so gentle and concerned about my pleasure that it was probably the best coupling I had ever experienced. For the rest of the hour, we cuddled gently while I day-dreamed about being his wife, or at least his permanent bed warmer. (Who would have imagined the cheerleader co-captain wanting to shack up with the class nerd? For that matter, I would never before have imagined being a sex slave of ANYbody, but with my life ruined by enslavement, my horizons had been narrowed.)
Most of the time when I worked in the kennel's brothel, however, the "John" wanted his money's worth, usually including sexual service that he couldn't obtain from his free wife or girlfriend. I became quite an expert at sucking dicks and taking them up my rear end, although sometimes the guys liked to spank my butt and mash my breasts painfully. It was humiliating to be used like a blow-up (or blow job?) toy, but at least I knew that I was more likely to get off at the kennels than when Janey decided to pimp me out to her suitors. If I can brag for a moment, several of those suitors, who had wisely declined my services when offered by my owner, paid to use my body at the kennels; these guys usually treated me like a human being even as they were banging me, because they knew me as a person and had to apologize for how they treated me in her dorm room!
Sometimes, of course, three horny college guys (redundancy!) would rent me for an hour to make me airtight, repeatedly unloading their sploog into all my openings as well as onto my face and hair. This left me so disheveled that I had to spend precious sleep time showering in a vain effort to feel clean again. The next day I found it even more difficult than usual to docilely follow my Mistress' domination games.
I made it through Janey's freshman year, which seemed to consists of equal parts "let's party" and "let's all humiliate Leslie." I was actually looking forward to a (relatively) "easy" summer of naked calisthenics and helping the maid Rosa clean toilets, until Mistress dropped the next bombshell: I wasn't going home, but would instead spend the summer training with the university's pony girl team.
*****
This requires some explanation: with the re-introduction of slavery and especially pony girl racing, first universities and then the Olympics had introduced pony girl teams as an advanced form of cheerleading and team athletics. Most universities, such as Janey's, recruited the best-looking sophomore women, giving them huge scholarships in return for signing a contract to be on the pony girl team, where eight young women, all bound and bitted as if they were horses, pulled a cart carrying the college or university mascot. The young women agreed to enslave themselves (on a Free In Name Only contract) and train as ponies until their graduation, two years later. Why enslavement? Because slaves did not have control over their own bodies, and could neither sell nor withhold those bodies from sex, a court-created legal loophole allowed them to circumvent the nudity and prostitution laws. Pony girls could therefore prance virtually naked in public at the football stadium and (unwritten but widely understood) reward star players and generous donors sexually, all without legal or social consequences. At the end of two years in harness, listing "pony girl team" as a college extracurricular activity was a popular entry on any woman's resumé when applying to graduate school or for a white-collar job; it was code for physical attractiveness and sensuality, much sought after by employers who would otherwise deny ever thinking of women in such demeaning terms. (To satisfy academic prudery, the pony girl contracts guaranteed that the young woman would have ample time for studying during the school year.)
In short, for the summer between sophomore and junior years, scholarship recipients signed up to be self-indentured and trained as competitive pony racing girls, then served on their teams for the next two years. Small schools sent their women to famous pony girl ranches for training, but each large university like UT had its own department of skilled slave wranglers who trained them on campus. (If you're wondering, the universities recruiting rising juniors because those women, unlike new freshmen, were over the age of 18 and had almost certainly lost their virginity.)
The one drawback with all this was that these pony girls were in constant demand for (nearly naked) public appearances and sexual rewards to favored athletes, alumni, and fat cat donors. Yet few women, however needy financially, wanted to be what amounted to prostitutes on demand--screwing a few hunky young players could be considered as a naughty game, but constantly "putting out" for older (and sometimes obnoxious) men/women was repugnant. Enter the brilliant (sarcasm mode engaged) idea at UT to invite the student owners of Prime- or Choice-graded slaves to "volunteer" their slaves for a "junior varsity (JV) pony girl team" that would undergo the same training as scholarship recipients, occasionally act as substitutes for ill or injured team members, and service the people who thought they were sufficiently important to warrant the attentions of pony girl team members. Along with the male students and faculty, these entitled people might lust after the pony team on display at the games, but in practice a Prime-rated slave slut like me, trained and restrained like a pony and habituated to being a sex toy, was more than adequate for their base demands, meanwhile freeing the actual scholarship women to maintain some minimal dignity and study for their courses.
This was even more true for the slave wranglers who trained the women. Scholarship pony team members got what amounted to a two-month summer camp version of being slave graded--they were (nearly) naked, collared, fondled, and toyed with by wranglers who worked to arouse their sensuality so they would display magnificently, giving them the thrilling sense of being at the mercy of their trainers. BUT those wranglers were generally forbidden to have penetrative sex with the trainees of the varsity team. That way, the University could maintain deniability, insisting that its scholarship ponies were not being hired for sexual use (without mentioning--wink, wink--when key football team members might be rewarded by actual team members!) No such limitations existed for the training of the "JV" slave ponies, who were teased & aroused like the actual team members but also expected to suck and fuck their trainers/wranglers on a regular basis. Moreover, when the wranglers administered enemas to slaves who were bound bent over for that purpose, the wranglers often took the opportunity to butt-fuck those curvy, muscular, branded Prime- and Choice rear ends; the staff joked that they were simply providing sperm lubrication before re-installing our pony girl tail plugs. Talk about a literal pain in the ass!
The owners got free room and board for their slaves in the summers, plus a set fee for each day those slaves served in harness during the school year. Just great--Janey got to inflict yet more humiliation on me, turning me into a slave prostitute, while I got all the hard work, most of the shafting, and none of the academic or status benefits of being on the pony girl team. Plus, she added one final refined form of humiliation. Once I was trained as a pony girl, she giggled, in a future summer she could send me to an actual pony ranch for racing. There was an informal tradition in Texas pony girl racing, whereby right there at the finish line, the sweating, exhausted young women who lost the race were tied over a low wooden fence, their ankles spread wide on one side and their arms either still restrained behind them or spread equally wide on the other. Then the winning team--owner, jockey, stable hands, and sometimes even slave stallions--had their nasty way with the poor girls, using any orifice they preferred.
By now, you have a rough mental image of how I spent that summer between Janey's freshman and sophomore years, when (if I were still free) I might have found an internship in some business or even a job at a children's camp. There was some enjoyment in pony camp, of course--I made friends with other slaves and even a few varsity members, and my high school track training enabled me to get a true runner's high from the strenuous exercise. Paradoxically, running flat out which fully bound (forearms tied parallel to each other behind my back, tight bustier pushing up my exposed breasts, nipple bells once again jingling mockingly, a tail tickling my rear end while a bit and reins controlled my mouth) actually gave me the illusion of freedom after more than a year of servitude. On the other hand, I had plenty of opportunity to refine my slut skills, whether on my knees licking or bent over/lying flat while accepting rampant cocks up my lower openings. It was bad enough to be everybody's convenient "relief valve," but it was even more humiliating, while bent over next to another slave, to listen to the two wranglers who were pounding our brains out describe the varsity student pony girl whose un-fuckable body had aroused the erections they were burying in us.
Overall, however, that summer actually forced me to adjust to my situation, and my sense of indecent exposure and forcible penetration ebbed away. I accepted that I was a slave--perhaps it was slave mind, but I became content to wait patiently and to have my mouth, boobs, vagina, and any other part of my body casually punished or played with. It no longer troubled me when free people described me as a "cock-sucking slut" who was "greedy for more dick in her butt or cunt," etc.--it was the truth, so why be offended? Deep inside, I still longed for my freedom, for the life I had expected, but I knew that life was on hold for another six years. Of course, my silent acceptance of demeaning treatment and labels really frustrated Janey, because she soon realized that the humiliations she had inflicted on me during freshman year no longer bothered me much.
Not that I saw her as frequently that fall, for two reasons. First, I spent lots of time working as a JV pony girl, including once when I actually filled in for a real student pony girl helping to pull the cart at a football game. It was fun to prance in front of 90,000 cheering fans, my breasts, hips, and butt-plugged tail swinging in rhythm, knowing how many of the spectators lusted after my body but couldn't have it. Less fun were the half-dozen times I acted as a surrogate team member to fulfill the prurient desires of wealthy and influential fans. By now, I was so habituated to oral and anal sodomy, often committed by inconsiderate strangers, that the actual acts barely phased me, although some of those guys could really have used a shower and some mouthwash! Less enjoyable was the thought of Janey getting paid for my services--she missed no opportunity to remind me that she was pimping out her "slave whore" for what amounted to $20 per cock, a figure she arrived at by dividing the daily rental she received for me by the number of times dicks entered my body that day. She enjoyed jeering "I'm renting your cunt out to the fat pigs, dumb jocks, and other losers who could never get the attention of a real woman like me." That particular statement bugged me sufficiently that I did repeat it to Jimmy Orbey, but I spent so much time staring into space that she got frustrated for lack of a reaction.
*****
The second reason why Janey spent less time tormenting me was her own academic worries. During her freshman year, I had been too miserable to notice that she was neglecting her studies, having too much fun as a popular woman on campus while using me as another toy to tease the boys. I was away at "JV pony girl camp" during the summer after freshman year, but I gather that her second-semester grades averaged well below the "B" average she was expected to maintain in order to keep her academic scholarship. (This was not really that uncommon, because students who had excelled easily in high school often failed to develop the study skills and determination to work effectively in the more challenging studies of college.)
