Slave World

by Johnny Stone

  “He was always such a do-gooder,” Donna chuckled with a soft smile. “I remember him coming home from school one day when he was fourteen, beat to a bloody mess. Mom and Dad were furious and wanted names; no one did that to a Burke and got away with it, but Nathan wouldn’t tell them a damn thing.

  “The same thing happened for the next three days after that. Of course our parents automatically assumed he was being bullied for whatever reason; Nathan wasn’t very big, nothing but skin and bones back then. Despite my parents taking it up with the school board, and threatening everyone for answers up to the Council itself, it continued off and on for nearly a month. Dad was about ready to hire bodyguards for Nathan after he started spoofing the surveillance drones with a homemade jammer, but instead dad pulled him out of school and hired a slew of private tutors for him. The thing was, Nathan continued to show up every so often with a black eye, or busted lip. “ Donna glanced at me with a smirk; she had my full attention now.

  “I was finally able to drag the truth out of him. Do you have any idea why my brother was getting into fights?”

  “No, Mistress.”

  “Nathan had come across a group of older boys one day on the way home from school, using a slave girl as a merry-go-round whore. I’m not really sure what made Nathan stick his nose someplace it didn’t belong, other than the fact that’s just how Nathan is. Apparently he didn’t like what he saw, and decided to put a stop to it. So my little brother, all ninety-eight pounds soaking wet, decided he wanted to go toe to toe with a group of much larger boys, members of the varsity football team no less, in a foolhardy attempt to rescue her.

  “Of course he didn’t, and I’ve already told you the end result, but you know what? Nathan continued to go back to that spot every day to see if they were there with that girl. If they were, he threw himself into the fray because of some silly notion of misguided gallantry stuck in his head.”

  You would do something like that, wouldn’t you, Nathan?

  “My brother has to be one of the most stubborn men alive. He knew he was going to get the shit beat out of him, but he kept going back for more, regardless.”

  “Actually, Mistress, I think it’s very romantic,” I said softly as the warmth in my heart continued to spread. Donna cocked a brow at me. “I mean, he was fighting for something he believed in; he was trying to protect that slave girl, wasn’t he?” Donna shook her head at me in contempt.

  “She didn’t need protecting. It was well within their right to use her as they saw fit. Romantic or not, Nathan was in the wrong; it wasn’t his place to interfere. I had to tell Mom and Dad what was going on because it seemed that Nathan had taken a liking to that tall, smoky-eyed girl for some reason, and had no intention of trying to stop what he continually referred to as her abuse. The thing was that one day those boys were going to grow tired of playing games with him, and Nathan was going to get hurt badly.”

  Donna closed her eyes growing quiet. I was on pins and needles now, wanting to hear more. Okay…so tell me about Nathan and this slave girl? What happened! A growing sniffle, followed by low sorrowful crying, finally broke the silence.

  “I’m so sorry, pony, I forgot you need water like I do. I’m so stupid. Michael always calls me that. I know everyone else thinks that too.” Donna continued to sniffle pathetically, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Her voice had changed again to that of a young girl. I stared back at her more confused than ever. Dammit, finish your story!

  “It’s all my fault you got sick, pony. I forgot you get tired like normal people, I feel so bad.” Donna hit the top of her leg with her fist. What the hell’s wrong with her? Why is she acting so weird again? The sudden switching of her personality, of her reverting back to a child came with no warning. I was beginning to wonder if this sort of thing happened often, if maybe her ‘old self’ broke through on occasion, remembering who she once was?

  “Nathan says you’re his friend and he likes you, trusts you. He said I should trust you too, but I hurt you. You’re a good pony, Margo.” Nathan said that? He’d confided in her that much, in regards to our taboo relationship?

  Donna hit herself again, harder this time, splashing me in the face. Her expression was one of pure anguish. “I’m so stupid!” She hit herself again, working into a steady rhythm of self-abuse. I caught her wrist in mid air, and she turned her tear-streaked face towards me.

  “Let go, Michael told me I should punish myself when I’m bad. I’ve been a stupid, bad girl, let go!” She pulled against me, but her strength was nothing compared to mine.

  My heart went out to Donna, seeing just a glimpse of what her life must have been like, what she’d gone through for all those years before Nathan arrived.

  “You’re not a bad girl, Donna.” I thought I would try and reason with her on a level she could understand. I hoped so at least. “You’re a very nice girl, a good girl. Please, stop hitting yourself.”

  “No, I’ve been bad, I’m a stupid girl, a stupid slutty girl just like Michael says I am. You’re Nathan’s friend and I hurt you, now let go, I have to punish myself!” She began hitting herself again with her free hand until I grasped that one just as quickly, deciding on a different approach.

  “What would your brother say if he saw you doing this to yourself? Do you want me to tell him what you’re doing?” Her face contorted in a mask of stark terror.

  “No, please, Margo pony, don’t tell Nathan! Michael said if I ever told him stuff again he would hurt me, hurt me like he used to.” She was quickly working herself into a crazed frenzy with all her thrashing about. “Please, pony, no, I don’t want to be hurt like that again.”

  That son of a bitch… “Okay, I won’t tell Nathan, just calm down Don… Mistress, okay?” Donna swallowed hard, continuing to sniffle, nodding hesitantly.

  “If I let go of your hands, will you stop hitting yourself? I won’t tell if you stop hitting, deal?” More sniffles followed, with another nod. I slowly released her wrists, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks with trembling fingers.

  I shook my head in a woeful gesture; it was just like talking with a child when trying to reason with her. It must be terribly hard on Nathan at times. “I’m okay, Mistress, you didn’t hurt me. I think maybe I ate some bad food was all, it wasn’t your fault. I’m all better now, see?” I still felt like crap, but nowhere near as bad as she did at the moment. I could deal with it, and would for her.

  “I want to go home, pony. I don’t want to play anymore.” Donna rose from the pool, collecting her discarded clothes, and I followed suit, reluctantly leaving its comfort in exchange for my hot, sweat-soaked gear again. I quickly grew frustrated with the whole notion of dressing myself; it was a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be.

  “You look mad, Margo pony. Are you still mad at me?” Donna was pouting in my direction with downcast eyes. I noticed the revealing designs of her pants were for much more than just fashion now. The way they were cut would allow her easy access to get at the concealed weapons beneath them, if necessary. Just as before, I couldn’t even tell they were there.

  “No, Mistress, I’m not mad at you. I just can’t get my gear on is all.” I almost fell over, tripping on part of my harness. Donna burst out giggling, pointing at me.

  “You’re silly, pony, even I can dress myself.” Yeah thanks… I knew she couldn’t help it, but the idea of being laughed at while I continued to fight the leather octopus ensnaring my body, wasn’t all that funny to me at the moment.

  The battle raged on while Donna stood by snickering, enjoying the hell out of seeing me make an ass of myself. I give up… “Mistress? Would you mind helping me get my gear back on, please?” She gave me that creepy blank stare of utter incomprehension again, before nodding excitedly and smiling.

  “Sure pony, I’ll help you.”

  I lowered my arms, waiting patiently, while she made slow, deliberate circles around me, studying my partially geared up body as if deep
in thought. Then I kept right on waiting and waiting.

  “Uhm…Margo pony? I don’t know what to do?”

  I opened my mouth, letting it snap shut in silence. Less than thirty minutes ago, she’d stripped me out of it with a proficiency that rivaled the fitter, now she couldn’t even remember where to start. Weird…After the long and frustrating procedure of me talking her through it, and helping when I could, the task was finally complete. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

  We started back to the main house at a slow and steady pace this time. I was teaming with curiosity now, about so many things: her odd personality switch, Nathan and this slave girl, but more closer to home, the presence of her pistols. Donna really shouldn’t be armed, not in her state of mind. Based on the self-abuse I had just witnessed, it could be dangerous for her, not to mention everyone else around her. Besides, I’d never seen the staff or guards carry firearms; stunners were the norm among them. So why was she armed? Her answer wasn’t exactly what I expected.

  “I don’t know why, pony. Michael gets mad when I do. I just like them is all, I think they’re neat. Hey, you want to see something really, really neat though?”

  “Sure, Mistress, what do you want to show me?”

  “You’ll see, pony, you’ll see,” she giggled softly.

  Donna turned me around, leading us out into the periphery of the ranch. I knew where she had taken me, when I saw a wide-open field surrounded by large earthen berms. It was a weapons range.

  Donna dismounted and walked me under a long overhang shielding a series of tables and stands separated into small, stall like enclosures. There was a computer panel in each and a wall mounted box that held earmuffs and other essentials.

  “Here, put these on, pony, it’s going to be noisy.” Donna handed me a set of muffs, slipping her own on along with a pair of tinted shooting goggles. The muffs didn’t fit very well; they hadn’t been made with horse ears in mind.

  Donna stepped up to the control panel, activating the touch screen with flying fingers, before approaching the firing line. Okay, so I guess I get to watch her shoot for a while? Fine with me; I had nothing else better to do, like go back to the stables and get some rest. Yeah, I was still tired and just felt like lying down, and my attitude was beginning to show because of it.

  Donna whirled about startling me. Her hands were in a ready position near her pistols and there was a hard, intense look in her face. “This here town ain’t big enough for the two of us,” she began in an exaggerated old west drawl. “So I’m given you until the count of three, to get your goat smelling carcass out of here, before I give you lead poisoning! One…”

  I would have laughed at her with that cowboy hat and old west movie ultimatum, except it looked like she was actually going to do it. I took a few steps back from the eyes of an emotionless killer.

  “Two…”

  I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. I was terrified, frozen with fear. In Donna’s condition she just might shoot me, I didn’t know. My head had been spinning ever since the incident at the pool.

  “Three!”

  Her hands flashed faster than I could follow; one second they were at her sides, and the next I had two pistols aimed at me with deadly intent. I was about to die.

  Donna fell backwards, gracefully rolling into a crouched, kneeling position. Her pistols were pointed down range now, at a series of human-silhouette, pop-up targets. Even with my muffs on, the sound was deafening in the small enclosure.

  The familiar crackle, reminiscent to sizzling meat on a hot plate, from the heater, was followed by a simultaneous ‘whoosh-bang’ from the rocket pistol. I put my hands over the muffs, trying to block out the steady, echoing roar, as Donna double tapped each of the targets. The laser super heated the metal turning it bright red, then white, liquefying it a millisecond before the 10mm rocket round slammed into it, creating a gaping, explosive hole. The rocket rounds continued on to hit the berm behind the targets, causing a series of massive dirt clouds to erupt in the air. One after another, the two-inch thick, steel targets were blown to pieces with dizzying precision.

  I suddenly realized the effectiveness of what she was doing; it was a method used for punching through body armor, whether of metal composition or not. There weren’t too many kinds of personal armor that I was familiar with, which could take that kind of punishment and still leave the wearer intact. Not to mention, that was only one shot from each; multiple shots would have been even more devastating.

  Donna engaged the targets with precision accuracy until all ten were turned into smoking, heaps of slag. It couldn’t have taken her more than ten or twelve seconds; a second apiece double tapping and she hadn’t missed once. I’d never seen a display of firearm skill like it before.

  Donna gracefully stood replacing her spent magazines with fresh ones, holstering both pistols with deft confidence. She turned to face me, and still had that strange look of lethality about her, that made my blood run cold.

  “One shot, one kill. That’s all it should ever take, Margo. I like giving them two just to be sure; it’s unprofessional to leave a mark alive, wouldn’t you agree?” She whispered in a deathly calm.

  A concerned female voice cut the silence from Donna’s wrist-com. “Mrs. Savota, this is Control. We’ve detected multiple weapon discharges in your area, are you all right?” Donna blinked rapidly, the killer before me fading into uncertainty.

  “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble,” a sheepish expression replied. “Uhm…yes, I’m okay, I was just out shooting my guns is all.” There was silence for several seconds.

  “Mrs. Savota, you know you’re supposed to contact us before you go to the range.” The woman sounded like a real bitch now, and it pissed me off.

  “Yes, I know.” Donna was pouting again, a kid being scolded by an adult.

  “You need to remember to contact us first, Mrs. Savota, I know we’ve told you this before, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, you’ve told me before, I’m sorry.”

  “I will recall the security team; control out.”

  “Let’s go, pony, I’ve been a bad girl again. I hope Michael isn’t going to be mad at me.” Donna deactivated the range control panel and stowed our muffs, while I knelt and waited for her.

  We started back to the house again, but in a much more somber mood. Donna was quiet, and if I were to guess, worried about getting into trouble, whatever that entailed. I still didn’t know what to think of this crazy afternoon, or the way she’d periodically acted. Maybe it had something to do with her performing familiar tasks that brought back old memories? Maybe it was her body going on automatic, just reacting to old routines and situations? I didn’t know, nor did I have the knowledge regarding brain trauma to figure it out. One thing was for certain; whoever Mistress Donna had been in the past, was one person I never wanted to have pissed off at me.

  ***

  I awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, springing from bed with a sense of rare enthusiasm, instantly awake. A bath, alone this time thank god, about five gallons of water, and a good meal before lights out last night, could do wonders for a person. In truth, I don’t remember sleeping that well in ages. I was still a bit sore from my ride with Donna, but I hardly noticed; all I could think about was the possibility of spending some training time with Nathan today, and maybe if I were lucky, some personal hands-on attention after that. I really did miss him.

  I made my way down the corridor for breakfast, immediately noticing that something was different about this morning. It was like an ecstatic, almost palatable excitement in the air. What’s more is I could actually smell it, or smell something at any rate. Whatever it was made my nipples harden, and my pussy dampen with lurid anxiousness. It didn’t help my growing concern that I kept getting some pretty strange looks from the stallions that made me feel like a piece of meat under display glass. Uh oh, this isn’t good.

  We all formed up in a single file line at the entrance of the d
ining room, with two med-techs passing us through after a brief pause. They must be administering the biweekly hormone and vitamin injections, I heard talk about? A female brute was in front of me, towering, intimidating with a body packed full of bulging muscle beneath sun-bronzed skin. Her shortly cropped brown hair, set beneath a big nose and thin lips, made her look so, I don’t know, normal in a way? I wouldn’t say she was ugly, but I’d slowly grown accustomed to the cosmetic perfection of the show ponies, and the nearness of an outsider made me feel slightly uneasy. She looked down at me with flaring nostrils, and dark eager eyes.

  “What’s wrong, little sister?” Her voice was deep and husky, nearly masculine. “You don’t look very excited.”

  I felt a slight bump from behind, taking a step forward to distance myself from the crowding bulk of a stallion. “Why, should I be? What’s going on?”

  “You don’t know? It’s breeding day.”

  “What! You’re kidding me! Already?”

  “What do you mean already, it’s been a month since the last one?” The pony behind kept pushing closer, bumping into my ass again. Dammit, what’s this guy’s problem? I glared back over my shoulder, giving him a dirty look that was met by a leering smile. It was pony 10, a sandy haired palomino. Nice looking guy, but… He had his fishnet briefs off and the semi-hard, forearm length size of his inhuman cock, screaming an angry pink, had been grazing my ass the entire time. I was not in the mood for this shit.

  “Aren’t you excited little princess,” the female brute asked in a patronizing tone, drawing my attention forward again. “All the stallions are looking forward to breeding with you and the other show ponies, especially Cirus.” Her expression grew soft, regretful in a way, eyeing me from top to bottom. “It must be nice not having to chase after a stallion all the time, begging for it, but then again, I wouldn’t know.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that her breasts, unlike mine, had been reduced to nothing more than puckered buds beneath bands of rock solid pectorals. Even the slightest trace of femininity among the female brutes seemed to be nothing more than an extinct dream any longer.