Ponygirls of Irontown

by Arden, Adriana

  Most of them followed Tess out onto the field, leaving Sam with Danny,

  ‘I think it’s just a gimmick,’ he said. ‘If you train a girl properly she’ll behave like a pony, no matter what noises she makes. With a bit in her mouth it hardly matters anyway. And it’s more natural like that. Bits and reins are more... intimate. That’s how a rider communicates with his pony. It makes them closer. Taking away her voice won’t do that.’

  Danny spoke a lot more sense than she had previously realised, Sam thought with some surprise. This muting business was simply a silly attention-grabbing stunt on Tess’s part. This was all because of Beauty. She must have been desperate for Silver to be top pony again to arrange the procedure so quickly. Her family had probably pulled some strings on her behalf. But it was still just a craze. In a few days everybody would have forgotten about it...

  * * *

  ‘But why can’t I have Beauty muted?’ Sam asked in exasperation.

  Her father looked up from his newspaper. ‘I thought we’d settled this last night, Sam. Because it’s not right that you should be modifying a girl you’ve hardly owned for a week. Get to know her properly as she is before you start altering her body.’

  ‘It’s not an alteration to her body, it’s an accessory,’ Sam explained. ‘And the implants can be turned off or removed quite easily. Everyone else at the stables is having their ponies muted.’

  ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Well... four or five,’ Sam admitted. ‘But they say they’re all doing it at Wainwright’s and Masons.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it any less of a fad that will soon pass. I understand Tessa Harrow started this off because she was jealous of Beauty. Now you’re behaving equally foolishly. Is there any actual proof that muting improves ponies’ performance, or is it simply that it gives their riders a little more confidence?’

  ‘No, but either way it might help, Father. You know I’m trying for a place on the Cup team.’

  Her mother said: ‘Beauty is Sam’s property, George.’

  ‘Yes, Mary, but there are limits to what she can do to her.’

  ‘But I can punish her if I want,’ Sam said. ‘Why can’t I mute her? It won’t hurt.’

  ‘Because muting will take away something vital that marks her as human: the ability to speak for herself. By having to gag a slave it reminds you that she has the capacity to speak. There’s a danger that if we turn slaves into dumb animals we shall begin to believe that’s what they are. Irontown’s stability rests on the principle that while slaves serve us personally or the wider community we are also improving their characters through training and education. When they pass beyond serving age they become free citizens, as Beauty herself will one day. How can we then expect her to respect our laws if we have treated her inhumanely in the past?’

  Sam did not want to think that many years ahead. All she was interested in was the respect of her friends here and now... and not letting Tess Harrow continue behaving with such insufferable superior smugness, of course. She cast an imploring glance at her mother.

  ‘The muting process is approved and it is fully reversible, George,’ her mother pointed out carefully. ‘If it means so much to Sam perhaps we should let her. If it’s all a fad as you say then she’ll have learned an important lesson.’

  Sam saw her father hesitate, his brow creased in thought. Then he looked at Sam sternly. ‘Muting is an elective procedure unnecessary for Beauty’s health or wellbeing, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘That means it’s not available on the health service. If it was carried out on her you’d have to pay for it out of your savings, because I won’t.’

  Sam gulped and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll pay for it, Father.’

  ‘Then do it. But you know who you’ll have to blame it if all goes wrong or it proves a foolish waste of money, won’t you?’

  * * *

  And it was a lot of money, but Sam could not turn back now. Trying not to copy Tess’s hasty example Sam was able to book a place for Beauty at the slave clinic a week later. And now the day had come and here she was feeling awkward and nervous. The surgeon performing the procedure asked if she wanted to come in with Beauty and observe.

  ‘It’s all very quick and quite painless, Miss Fillister,’ the surgeon explained. ‘We only use a local anaesthetic to relax the larynx to allow the implant to be made using remote manipulators. It will only take about twenty minutes. They’ll be no blood. She will be fully recovered in an hour and you can take her straight home.’

  ‘I know, but medical things always make me feel a bit queasy,’ Sam said.

  And so Beauty, strapped to the trolley, was wheeled into the operating room alone while Sam waited outside feeling she should have been braver. This was stupid. She was only exercising her rights as her owner. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about anything.

  The day before she had asked Beauty about her own feelings on the matter. There was nothing in Irontown law that said she had to but she was curious. And perhaps she also wanted reassurance. Unfortunately Beauty had given her none.

  ‘Do what you wish with me, Mistress, as long as it pleases you,’ Beauty had said simply, lowering her lovely big brown eyes humbly. Or was it perhaps to hide her true feelings of fear or resentment?

  And now it was too late for Sam to change her mind.

  * * *

  But to her relief the procedure went smoothly and Beauty looked perfectly fine afterwards. Sam was shown how to use the control unit and then she loaded Beauty into her box and drove her back home.

  Of course she showed Beauty off to her parents straight away, holding the controller over Beauty’s throat and turning on and off her voice while she was speaking, or distorting it so that she could only make equine snorts or whinnies.

  ‘Yes, it’s a clever trick, Sam,’ her father agreed. ‘I just hope you think it was worthwhile.’

  Actually, now that Sam had got over what she thought of as her foolish doubts, she was beginning to think it was. She was not sure if muting would make any significant difference to Beauty’s performance as a pony, but it did give Sam a huge new sense of power over her. Wasn’t that one of the main reasons people enjoyed owning slaves? So you had the thrill of wielding power over them, to enjoy their bodies and to make them please you in any way you wished whenever you desired.

  At least that was how it was for six days of the week.

  * * *

  ‘Why do we have to let slaves have a day off?’ Sam moaned a few days later.

  It felt like an intolerable imposition on her rights. By Irontown law all slaves were allowed a day a week, or two half days, to themselves. At this time they were allowed to dress in what was virtually the uniform of off-duty slaves: grey knee-length belted coats and ankle boots plus scarves and headbands, which concealed their collars and identification marks from strangers. They were also given an allowance of gynetokens to spend, which were accepted as cash anywhere in Shackleswell. They could then go where they wished. Sam had visions of her meeting Beauty walking down the street in the middle of town while she was out with her friends or perhaps finding she was sitting next to her in the cinema, like a free person. What would she do?

  ‘We allow them one day off a week so that they are happy to serve us the other six days,’ her father said wearily. ‘You know your history. That is what keeps Shackleswell functioning.’

  ‘Yes, I can see working slaves must need time off, like workers everywhere, but personal slaves and pets shouldn’t need it. They aren’t worked so hard. They don’t need a rest.’

  ‘A rest is not just an absence of effort,’ her father said. ‘They have minds as well.’

  ‘But what if she runs away?’

  ‘She won’t if she respects you enough, will she?’

 
Actually she’d never heard of a slave ever running away from Shakleswell, but Sam did not want to be responsible for one who spoiled that record. It would be such a terrible judgement on her. Why couldn’t they just spend a day safely locked up in a cage somewhere?

  But the law said otherwise.

  And so came the moment when once again Beauty stood before Sam fully dressed, which seemed quite unnatural and vaguely obscene. Sam handed over her allowance of gyntokens and a daypass disk to clip to her collar to show she was out on her own with her owner’s permission, however grudgingly given. She deactivated Beauty’s muter and then she asked:

  ‘Where are you going today?’ This was partly out of curiosity and partly so she would be sure she would not accidentally run into her.

  ‘I’ve arranged to meet my chain sisters in town, Mistress. We’re going to see a film. And then I thought I might go to the public library.’

  ‘What do you do there?’

  ‘I read, Mistress. I wasn’t that good at reading before I came to Irontown. Now I’m trying to make up for it. To improve myself.’

  She wanted to improve herself, Sam thought in bafflement. What needed improving?

  * * *

  However when Beauty was not taking days off, Sam found they were slipping into a comfortable routine. The nights were wonderful. Beauty was a passionate sex slave and a delightful bedwarmer. In the daytime, when they were not practicing at the stables, they had their regular twenty minutes hard ride together in the mornings and then she would leave Beauty in her stall to rest over lunch. On the afternoons she knew Cleaver would be away from the slave stable for long enough she left Beauty jogging on the wheel, each day at a slightly faster speed to build up her strength. After a twenty minute swim Sam slipped round the back of the slave quarters from the pool, took Beauty off the wheel, chained her to her stall post and set her cleaning and polishing the rig while she went back for more swimming. By the time Cleaver returned Sam was dutifully putting the gleaming rig away and preparing to take a glowing Beauty back into the house for her personal pleasures.

  On days she did not go to the stables she was usually able to invite somebody round regularly with their mounts in the mornings and they rode together along the wild garden paths. Whether Beauty’s muting was helping or not, they were working well as pony and rider and she easily managed to win their unofficial garden races. Her performance was also appreciated at the stables by Mr Paring who complimented her on her progress. It looked like Sam would make the Cup team, along with Tess and Silver.

  This all filled Sam with both pride and mischievous satisfaction. She was handling Beauty the way she wanted to, not how other people told her, and she was making a success of it. The only frustration was she could not tell anybody about it. Neither Paring nor Cleaver must learn that she was not obeying their directions to the letter. At least she could be sure Beauty would not talk. It really was a lot easier to master her when she had no voice. This was what owning a slave should feel like. In fact she now felt confident enough to take her for a run in public in Rowland Park. Yes, she’d go tomorrow morning and take her exercise there. It would be a change. And she was sure Beauty would enjoy it.

  * * *

  Beauty, who now had to remind herself that she was still officially known as Rivet 23 and had almost forgotten that she had ever been Carley, always felt that Rowland Park was the heart of Shackleswell. It was here that she regularly met her Gryndstone chain sisters and it was where being a slave seemed most natural.

  Sam unloaded Beauty and the rig in a sheltered car park and they made their way through a double set of big solid gates, watched over by uniformed wardens.

  Beyond was a large open space comprising many stretches of rolling lawn, copses of trees, flower beds and fountains, statues and benches. There was also a bandstand, and open air theatre and the arena where the Lister Cup competition would be held. All these spaces were linked by a network of winding and dipping gravel pathways and surrounded by a high boundary wall with controlled access to ensure no outsiders ever entered. People could picnic or play freely here in the Irontown style; off duty slaves as well as their masters.

  On a weekday morning it was not over-crowded, but there was still a sprinkling of people in sight. There were leashed naked girl pets being walked, or having to run and fetch sticks or balls thrown for them by their owners. There were also naked slavegirls walking freely, playing bat and ball games, throwing Frisbees, laughing and chatting with friends or simply sprawled on the grass. In other words it was a typical Irontown scene.

  The park was also an ideal place to exercise ponygirls. Beauty could see a couple of them now clip-clipping along a path. They had plumes on their headbands to show they were out for fun. The sun glinted off the metal of their rings and buckles.

  Sam harnessed Beauty to the hobby horse. She hesitated when she was about to clip the muzzle onto her.

  ‘It’s a nice day and we’re not racing,’ she said. ‘Let them see what a pretty face you have.’ She folded back Beauty’s blinkers. ‘We don’t need these either...’

  She hung the muzzle on the back of the saddle and then took her seat. Beauty felt Sam’s thighs pressing against her hips as she slid her feet into the stirrups. As she leaned forward to gather the rein handles her breasts brushed against Beauty’s back. When she shifted in the saddle Beauty felt her weight transmitted through the hobby horse frame to her harness straps. It was a burden of course, but one she was pleased to bear if it pleased her mistress. She was serving; being useful. That was what gave her life meaning and purpose.

  Sam squeezed the rein handles, pinching Beauty’s nipples, and they set off at a gentle trot.

  Beauty shivered, but from excitement and not from cold. She was suddenly acutely aware that she was being shown off, naked, harnessed and helpless, before dozens of people. The setting was otherwise so ordinary it felt quite different from being ridden at the stables. Of course her months spent totally nude at Gryndstone had virtually purged her of the normal sensations of bodily shame, but it had been replaced by a kind of perverted thrill at her exposure. Everybody could see her nipples were pierced, that she had rings in her labia and that her vagina and anus were impaled. They could also see she was responding to this invasion of her body with flowing juices. It was obscene and wonderful at the same time.

  Along the straight clear pathways Sam set Beauty galloping for short spurts, then allowed her to slow to a walk, so she was not tired out too quickly. With her peripheral vision unimpeded by blinkers Beauty caught several admiring glances from those people they passed. It was good to know that she was pleasing to them because their approval would please Sam. As she lost herself in the mindless automatic business of obedience like any good pony it allowed her time to think about Sam.

  Although she preferred the feel of bits and gags in her mouth, Beauty did not mind too much having her voice muted at Sam’s whim or else being forced to make horse sounds. There was a dark thrill to being under such control. The procedure had been painless if a little frightening, but she had soon got over it, and, after a few days with a sore throat she was not aware of the implant now, unless it was activated. And if it genuinely pleased her mistress then she would happily accept it.

  But truthfully she wished her muting had been done because Sam had chosen it for herself and not as a hasty reaction to the fashion Tess Harrow had set. But then Sam was not quite as assured as she pretended to be, nor as mature. She was too ready to try to keep up with her contemporaries. Like many rich girls who did not need to work, and despite her father’s obvious best efforts, she had been spoiled. At times there was also a selfish, self-centred side apparent in Sam that saddened her.

  And yet with all those reservations she liked Sam a lot, edging perhaps towards love, even if her reasons were very slavish. Sam smelt nice in bed, her pussy juice tasted exciting and obeying her commands someti
mes gave her an indescribable thrill. At those fleeting moments when she looked into Sam’s eyes, even if she was raising a paddle to beat her, and felt she was at the centre of her universe and the most important thing in her life. It was then, as her knees went weak and her loins seemed to fill with liquid lust, that she imagined Sam might be, one day, her perfect mistress. That was worth suffering for.

  Sam rode Beauty at a gentle trot past the arena. It was empty at the moment, just stands and many banks of seats waiting to be filled.

  ‘Do you think we can make it?’ Sam asked Beauty. ‘That would be fantastic. And it would make Tess so annoyed.’

  Beauty thought a little disappointedly: did it matter what Tess felt? Competing for the cup would be an achievement for both of them. That was what should matter most.

  As they continued their meandering circuit of the park they came upon a man with a barrow selling novelty items to visitors to the park. Amongst the fun hats and simple sets of sporting goods was a selection of novelty dildos. Only in Irontown, Beauty thought, could you find such items so boldly and publically displayed. But then after over a century and a half of intimate slave usage, Irontowner’s attitudes to sex were more realistic and robust than the norm. And there were sales to be made to slavegirls on their day off, or owners walking their pets. They saw a trigyn of naked slavegirls laughing over a pink foam rubber triple dildo they had just bought which jingled as they shook it. And there was a girl on a leash being led along by her amused owner with an inflatable curling pig tail wagging from between her buttocks.

  Beauty heard Sam chuckle and she drew her up next to the barrow and dismounted. Automatically Beauty brought her rubber-hooved feet together. Sam reached down and clipped her ankle cuffs together, hobbling her, and then went to examine the goods on offer.

  After five minutes she came back with a multicoloured double-ended soft rubber dildo that she held up for Beauty to see. It had bulbous fluorescent pink shaft ends with a large ball sac hung between them. Both the balls and the knobs squeaked as she squeezed them.