Abby and Jen were taken to one side of the table. She saw an iron bar along the bulkhead. She and Abby were then turned away from the bar; their reins were brought over their shoulders and attached to the bar. They had about three feet of slack, but it kept them at the end of the table where the line of diners would pass them as they came to the table. The trainer then produced four large plumes. Two were attached to the upper harness area at the shoulders of each of pony. The groom then came forward, made a final check and correction of their leather, snapped a hobble on each of them and then left through the door they had entered from. “Lovely . . . part of the décor.” Thought Jen.

It did give Jen a good view of the lifeboats. And if she could remember how they came she could get back here – assuming she could get free of her armbinder and the stalls. The lifeboats were big, about 25 feet long. They were covered with canvas covers, but it looked like they were not open but had some structure above the hull that even had windows. Each was held by two cranes that were tipped back so the boat could rest on a mount on the deck rail of the ship. When activated the cranes would tilt forward holding the boats over the edge of the ship where they could then be lowered into the water. Jen saw what looked like a control panel on one end of one crane. It had a panel that was closed so she could not get any more information. It did not look easy, but it did appear that if she could get this far she had a chance. “Fat chance of that.” She thought to herself. Then she turned and looked at the rest of her surroundings.

At least it was something new. The deck area was really quite nice. Young slave girls straight out of an Arabian Nights tale saw to the drink needs of the guests. Jen guessed that these guests had been the reason for the stop. They had picked up guests destined for the resort. That probably meant it was not too far away. As nice as these surrounding were this ship, by passenger standards, was small and Spartan. These people looked like they were accustomed to luxury. This would get old for them in a hurry, no more than a couple of days.

Jen and Abby were positioned at the beginning of the buffet table. They were an attraction for those waiting in line for food. As the guests came by most would stop and inspect the two ponies brought out for their pleasure. A middle aged man and a young woman, about Jen’s age, were the first. “They are just magnificent.” The young woman said as she reached out and stroked Jen’s breast. Jen jerked away and shook herself back and forth. The effect was to jingle her nipple bells, which had been put on for this occasion. “Very spirited isn’t she.” The young woman said as she demonstrated her control by giving Jen’s breast a firm squeeze. Jen thought of kicking her, but hobbled that was not an available option. Jen glared at her, but it was completely ignored. The couple moved on.

A young, but very well, and expensively groomed man was inspecting Abby. “I hear they are very happy with this group. There are some real potential challengers.” Jen’s posture improved with this statement. She knew who thought they were the potential challengers, but she was going to show them.

“What a wonderfully matched pair they are.” Jen glanced at Abby. They did look a lot alike. Same height, same build, same general coloring; and with the work of the grooms over the last two weeks they looked even more alike. “Do you think we can rent them for a carriage ride to our special place?” A young woman was snuggling up against an expensively clad 30’sh man.

“I think they are designated as racing ponies, but I do have a few connections. I bet I could arrange it.” Her companion was stroking Jen’s breasts even giving each nipple bell a bounce.

Jen watched as the man looked over to the Trainer who was standing nearby. “These are very nice ponies. What are their names?”

“Willow and Misty Night.” Replied the trainer.

“What!” Thought Jen. “Now we don’t even have our own names. . . I wonder which I am.”

“Thanks, it appears you have done a very good job with them.” The man reached over and stroked Jen’s breast as he spoke.

“What’s with all this breast touching?” She thought to herself. Yes she had great breasts. And judging from what she could see on Abby these outfits really showed them off, but you didn’t just touch other people’s breasts. Well, she didn’t. Apparently here it was different, or maybe it was just different with ponies. At any rate, after the first couple of tries she gave up trying to shake them off. Nobody seemed the least bit discouraged by the sound of her little bells tinkling in protest.

“Do you think they will be available for rental when we get to the Island?” The man asked the trainer.

“I don’t know. I guess to some degree that will depend upon which stable picks them up. It is unlikely before they are processed and sold.” The trainer replied. Jen tried to process what she had just heard. Island – they were being taken to an island. That would certainly raise serious complications to any escape plans. And they were to be sold. It should not have been a surprise, but just hearing the words brought home the permanency of their situation.

Another young woman was paying attention to Abby. “Such a nice pony.” She said as she stroked her head. Abby actually leaned her head in toward the stroke. Then the woman took something from her purse and put it into Abby’s mouth. Then she gave Abby another affectionate pat and moved toward the food giving Jen only a slight glance. Jen looked back toward Abby and watched as she used her tongue to maneuver whatever she had been given to a place in her mouth where she could suck on it. It was a similar act to what Jen had seen one of the trainers do with another pony back at the warehouse. Abby seemed pleased as she continued to suck on her treat. With a bit in your mouth chewing was nearly impossible.

All of the guests had passed them by, collected heaping portions of wonderful looking food and headed out to tables where they were eating. Willow and Misty Night, two ponies, stood near the buffet table throughout the early evening as the guests visited the food table. As the sun finally disappeared to starboard, the deck succumbed to soft lighting. There was music and some of the guests danced, but mostly they sat and enjoyed cocktails. The ponies stood silently watching these creatures from another world enjoy themselves.

Serving slaves came and removed what was left of the food. Jen eyed each platter as it retreated. She was very hungry but she knew she would not be enjoying any of this great looking food. She would be fed in her stall, retrieving her food from a trough; and while it was designed for high nutrition and to meet her needs it would never be on the menu of any restaurant that she would have gone to as a person. With the removal of the food came the removal of the ponies. The trainer released their reins from the bar and led them back into the bowels of the ship and their stable. Jen tried to pay attention to the route, just in case, but had to admit it was a bit confusing – especially when you are clomping along behind someone who is leading you on a leash.

When they reached the stable area their grooms were waiting outside the locked door. The trainer unlocked the door and Jen and Abby were led to their stalls for evening preparation. Even though there had been no real exertion standing on the deck they had been in the sun much of the time. The groom wiped and oiled Jen’s body, and massaged her shoulders, thighs, legs, and feet. Before she left she checked Jen’s water and provided her daily food allotment. When she had gone Jen put her head in the food trough and sniffed her food. Usually by feeding time she was so hungry that the aroma that wafted from the food trough when it was filled was very inviting. Tonight it was forcing the aroma from the banquet table upstairs out of her nose. Jen was very hungry, but she didn’t eat right away. She went to the corner of her stall, sat on the floor with her head against the wall and softly cried.

Then she did something she had not done in many days, she jerked and tugged at her hands and arms and twisted her upper body from side to side trying to release the hold of the straps and pouch. Nothing gave, nothing loosened. It had now been two weeks since she had had arms or hands. She had adjusted to this condition. Her shoulders no longer ached. When she sat or lay on the floor she used her legs, thighs, and upper body. Coming from a lying or sitting position to sitting or standing was done by shifting her weight and rolling. If she slipped she did not even try to put out an arm to catch herself. She had no arms. If her nose itched she rubbed it against something. If a bug landed on her body she had learned how to flex the muscles and flesh in a shudder to shake it away. The reflex had become second nature now.

She was still hopeful that her arms were not gone forever, that somehow she would find a way to release them. She knew if that happened she would need her arms and hands to work. As a result she had worked out an exercise of opening and closing her hands and isometrically pushing down and then up and then out with her arms. At first she had done it every night. For the last four nights she had not, but tonight she returned to the exercise. She prayed that it would be enough to keep her muscles from atrophying. She prayed even harder that she would find out whether that was the case, and before long. Jen did not share with the other ponies what she was thinking or what she had learned that day. For once she did not feel like talking.

The next afternoon the trainer took the pony pair who seemed perfectly happy with their lot. She wondered what they had been named. If she were asked she would suggest “Perky” and “Clueless”. She could just imagine them beaming under the attention of the guests, presenting their breasts and bodies for any and every touch. She dreaded being regaled with the tales of their prowess. She was sure they would not be able to resist talking about how charming they were and how everyone just loved them. But it didn’t happen that way. They were returned, in Jen’s estimation, quite a bit later than she and Jen had been. They were both very quiet and it took the grooms quite a long time to get them ready for rest. Later that night as Jen laid near the starboard wall of her stall she thought she heard sniffles and a few sobbing sounds coming from just the other side of the wall. “Are you all right?” Jen whispered. The sounds stopped. Jen listened for a while longer there was no response. Then she fell asleep.

The next two days fell back into a fairly normal routine. Weather was nice; there was only a slight breeze and some mist on deck. Late in the second day the engines betrayed a change, recognized by Jen as the probable arrival at a port. “Was this the Island? What Island? Where?” Jen thought. They had travelled another four days from the last port. Assuming that port was some place in Mexico it was now likely that they had travelled another 1,000 to 1,400 miles south. That would probably mean Central America. Even though the prospects of what lay ahead, the thought of being held as a pony at the whim and control of others was daunting, Jen was ready to get off this ship. She truly hoped that this was their destination and not just another stop to pick up another load of spoiled passengers.

The ship came to a stop much quicker than it had the last time the engines had slowed. This must mean a much smaller harbor. Jen hated not being able to see out. She hated not being in control. She hated having to just stand in her stall and await others to come for her. But her emotions would not change the reality. She was a pony, and when they wanted the ponies they could come for them. Until then she had no choice but to stand and wait.

It was not long before they did come for them. Three trainers opened the stable, then one by one the stalls, removing each pony and connecting them together in a single string. They were then led out and up the ramps to the work deck. As they exited onto the deck Jen could see the land to the port side. There were palm trees close by and behind the land rose in jungle covered hills. Hills might be too gentle a description. Although they did not rise to a great height they looked very rugged. On the bad side, it would be very difficult to travel over that terrain and through that jungle. On the positive side it would be very difficult to find anyone out there. If she could escape and make it to the jungle she could probably evade her captors for as long as she wanted. But to what end? If they were really on an island what good would it do to get away to the jungle? Could she really live in the jungle?

It was still light out, but the sun was descending. It must be early evening. As they were led up onto the gang plank Jen could see that the ship was tied at a dock with its port side parallel to the land just as it had been back in Long Beach. The dock itself was not very wide and was bordered on the far side by a series of animal pens like the ones back in Long Beach and a building that looked like a warehouse, but much smaller than the one in which they have been held during and after her initial capture.

Between the dock and the pens was a paved road that extended to Jen’s left. There was a town. There were buildings, all inland from the road. The dock did not continue more than a few hundred feed beyond the aft portion of the ship. Beyond the dock Jen could see that there was a beach. There were people on the beach. Some sitting in chairs, some just walking around, a couple had moved over closer to the dock area and were watching the unloading of the ship. Looking ahead at the pens Jen could see that the grooms and slaves had already been off loaded and confined to the pens. And now a string of pony girls, tails wagging in the breeze, arms bound behind them, connected by the neck one to another, were being walked down the ramp and toward an animal pen. The spectators looked on with some curiosity but no alarm, no disgust, no sympathy. Why would they. They were watching animals being unloaded. The animals appeared healthy and probably well cared for. They quickly lost interest in the sight and turned back toward their enjoyment of the white sandy beach.

The ponies were not put in a pen. They were brought past the pens and into the building. Just inside the door was a type of waiting area. There were actually couches against the walls, but the ponies were not allowed near them. On another wall there was a metal bar about 10 feet long extending about 6 inches from the wall at about three feet off the floor. The pony string was broken and each of the ponies was secured to the bar by reins that replaced the string line.

The trainers were only gone for a minute or two when they returned and selected Jen to go with them. She wished another pony had been chosen first, but this time it was her ‘honor’. Jen was led through another door and into a smaller room. She was maneuvered forward toward what looked like a metal frame with cross beams at various points. The top bar, at about chin level, had two bars protruding upward. Jen was pulled forward toward the frame. She stopped and refused to go forward fighting the reins. A second trainer joined in and Jen’s head was pushed between these bars so that her chin rested on the lower bar. They were all padded, as soon as her head was in place straps were buckled behind her head holding her in place. Two more bars hit her just above and below her breasts. She was pushed against those, but not fastened to them, at least not at this time. Another bar at her waist connected with a lock to the front ring in her waist band. Then her legs were secured to bars at her thighs, knees, and ankles. She was held against the frame with little ability to move.

She remembered the last time they had locked her in some frame. She didn’t know what they intended to do to her now, but she did not want it. She pulled at her legs, but they were held tight. She tried to back out of the frame, but she was held firmly. She tried to twist her body, she was immobile. One of the trainers stepped forward and started to stroke the side of her head telling her “it will be ok, just relax.” Jen didn’t think it was going to be ok. None of this had been ok and there was no reason to think this would be any different. But, once again, the stroking had a calming effect, and after all, there was nothing she could do to stop whatever was going to happen.

After she was secured a person in a white coat approached her from in front. She could see something in the person’s hand. She thought it was a tattoo gun, but she had never been tattooed so she was a little unsure. It was a tattoo gun. An assistant took a hold of Jen’s lower lip and pulled it down. Then the person in the white coat started to tattoo her on the inside of her lip. They did not bother to remove her bridle or bit. In fact, it seemed to aid them by keeping her mouth open and more accessible. She had no idea why they would be placing a tattoo inside her mouth. No one would be able to see it there. Then she remembered that the registry number for horses is often tattooed inside the horse’s mouth. She was being registered so that her proper owner could be easily determined.

The tattooing did not take long. Jen wondered what it was. A symbol of some kind, some combination of numbers and letters she assumed. She now had her own VIN number. Lovely. But they were not done with her. The person in the white coat left; but two other women dressed in khaki shirts and shorts entered the room.

They unbuckled and removed the pouch over her arms. Then to her surprise they unlocked and started to unbuckle the straps that had held her arms confined at her back for the last two weeks. As pleased as she was to be getting her arms back she was worried. Would they hurt? Would she be able to use them after all this time? But she was not completely released. The straps at her upper arms were released, but quickly replaced with some type of metal bar with a metal cuff on each end that encircled the upper arm just above the elbow. Only then were her wrists released. They were no longer held across her back. She remembered how unhappy she had been with herself for giving in so easily the last time her arms were secured. Maybe this was her chance. She straightened her arms bringing them down toward her sides, she was going to put up a fight, but her elbows were held firmly to the bar behind her. She had almost no range of motion and it took almost no effort for one of her new antagonists to fold her wrists back up to the bar that joined her elbows. The bar and her lower arms were then wrapped with what felt like cloth tape. The taping extended to and included wrapping her hands with the fingers placed around her elbows, then the wrapping continued up her upper arms for another four to five inches. Her arms had been free (not even completely free) for less than a minute.

After the tape was carefully smoothed and inspected, the first of these two new tormentors said to the other one: “You apply the epoxy Resin. I will go start on the next one.” Then she left the room.

As directed the remaining individual went to work. Something was being smeared over Jen’s taped arms. Jen tried to see what was going on, but with her head held between the two bars she could not turn and look back at all. She could feel the work progressing. “Epoxy Resin?” They were going to encase her arms in a cast. Epoxy was strong. And with her arms wrapped to the metal bar inside the cast she would have no chance of breaking it. She had been a creature without arms for over two weeks now. She had been trained to do without them. She had adjusted pretty well. It was almost as if she didn’t need them. But that did not mean she didn’t miss them. There was something about the idea of the cast covering her arms that seemed so permanent. It was becoming clear that, unless something else intervened, she was never to have arms again.

The chemical smell was very strong as wet material was wrapped around her arm bindings. It appeared that instead of the normal fiberglass or plaster soaked material strong industrial Epoxy had been substituted to make a stronger and more permanent cast. After a liberal wrap had been applied Jen was hobbled and removed from the frame. She was moved about ten feet, turned and positioned between two poles facing toward the wall, but with enough room for someone to move between her and the wall. She was connected to the two poles by short chains attached to metal rings that protruded from the new cast just above each elbow. The rings must be part of the metal bands because although Jen tried to pull and twist against them, they held fast. The worker then left to perform other tasks while Jen dried.

Jen knew that as the cast dried it would confine her arms and hands with only the room and space that could be created now. As soon as she was left alone she tried to twist and move her arms around to weaken the hold of the cast, perhaps to create some space inside, but she had virtually no movement. For the last two weeks she had regularly opened and closed her hands to keep the use of her fingers. She tried to wiggle her fingers to create some space for them, but they were held tight to her elbows and arms. As the epoxy dried the chance of any movement became just a memory. This new development very much complicated her prospects for escape.

Shortly Jen heard noises and turned to see one of the smaller, now very frightened, ponies brought in and led toward the frame by two trainers. Jen could only watch what was going on from the corner of her eye with her head fully turned because the action was behind her and the chains from her elbows did not allow her to turn her upper body. The new pony apparently saw Jen held with her arms now confined in a cast and must have tried to resist. She twisted and pulled, she cried and whined, she even let her legs collapse and tried to drop to the floor. It was all to no avail and she was quickly and efficiently strapped to the frame. It was then that Jen realized how much smaller than her this pony was. In order to place her in the frame the trainers had to adjust the chin bar down about half a foot. That would make her a full hand and a half shorter than Jen. Jen wasn’t sure why she had thought of small pony’s height in hands. Jen wondered if they would be measured in hands, and if so what would they consider to be the withers? She would guess the top of the shoulder or the nape of the neck. She remembered that she had been measured to the nape of the neck when she first arrived. Allowing about 10 inches for the head and neck would make Jen and Abby about 15 hands, a respectable height for a classy pony. The tall ponies had long legs, but also long necks, they would probably only be 15.2 if properly measured.

After the new pony was tattooed the khaki clad workers returned and went to work on her arms. After she was cast and moved to a drying frame to Jen’s left they returned to Jen and applied another coat of material to her cast. This time instead of wrapping soaked fabric they actually spread the soft plaster like material over the entire cast area. As they were finishing the trainers returned with Abby. Abby moved without protest as they directed her forward and secured her to the frame. Jen thought to herself that they should have taken Abby before the last pony because now they had to adjust the chin bar back up to the height it had been for Jen. The plasterers had left, presumably to perform their tasks on the other ponies is the other room, but they were back shortly after Abby was tattooed and soon she joined Jen and the small pony in the drying frames.

After all three ponies had received the overlying coat to their arm casts a groom, not one Jen had seen before, came into the room and watered each pony. Then, one by one she removed the bridle and bit, hand fed the pony, then replaced the bridle and bit before moving on to the next pony. She was not hurried in her task and gentle and caring but all business. After the feeding, their bodies were cleaned, and then she left, turning off the light as she departed. Usually they had some movement, not this night. Three ponies stood side by side, hobbled and chained by the elbows. No chances were being taken that they might be able to bump against anything while the arm casts dried. The casts would dry overnight to a solid strong case holding the metal, bone and flesh below to single unmovable form.

Sleep was a challenge supported only by a bar and chains connected to her elbows with her arms behind her back, but she did get some. She wished she were in her stall. Jen never thought she would miss being able to lie on the concrete or metal floor of her stall, but right now she did.

Jen had more dozed than slept leaning backwards on the chain and metal bar with her legs held straight in front of her. Then letting her arms carry her weight as she shifted foreward to hang from her restraints. Her arms ached. Her legs were tired. It may have been the longest night of her life. She was never so happy to see the pre-dawn light. The advantage to not being held deep in the bowels of a ship is that the room, even without windows begins to betray dawn. It also appeared that although this was a resort and the guests were almost all asleep, staff, and in particular, slaves were up and working early to make sure everything was perfect for the pampered guests.

Three grooms arrived to see to the ponies. They were not the grooms who had taken care of them at the warehouse and on the ship. Jen missed her groom, but at this point she was thrilled to see anyone. The groom knocked on the cast testing its hardness in several places. Whether this was part of her task or only curiosity Jen would never know, and the groom didn’t say. Instead she set to work unlocking and removing Jen’s harness, collar, and boots. Then she removed the bridle and bit. Except for the cast covering her arms and the rings embedded in her breasts and between her legs Jen was completely naked. For a while then the routine was familiar. Jen was washed, her teeth were cleaned, her toe nails were clipped, sanded and polished, and her hair was brushed.

After the bridle and bit had been removed Jen started to say something. She felt guilty that she had never learned the name of her prior groom so she asked: “What is your name?” That earned her a hard slap on her buttocks with no accompanying verbalization. The message was clear. She said nothing more.

After the groom was satisfied with the cleanliness of her filly she started to install an all new harness. Jen’s last harness had been white leather. This one was silver. Most of it was leather, but the collar and the waist belt were metal over leather. Both of these closed with a locking clasp at the back. From the front of the collar a strap proceeded down all the way to the belt. From this strap a type of halter with two circular holes pulled over her chest. Her breasts were fed through the holes until they popped out. Then the halter was buckled into a strap that ran from the back of the collar to the belt behind her. The straps on the halter were adjusted, tightened and then locked in place. The halter provided about two inches of leather both above and below Jen’s breasts as well as some leather between them. The holes were smaller than her breasts and the groom had taken each breast by the nipple and worked it through the hole making sure that all of the flesh of her breasts was outside the hole before tightening the back strap of the halter. Then to Jen’s immense displeasure the groom went to each side of the halter with an allen wrench and began turning something imbedded in the halter. As she turned the wrench with one hand she held up Jen’s breast on that side with the other hand. There was a cable of some sort build into each hole of the halter. As the groom turned the wrench the cable tightened reducing the circumference of the hole and compressing the flesh around the base of Jen’s breast. Jen could only look down and watch as first her right and then her left breast swelled under the pressure at its base darkening as the flow of blood was restricted. Periodically the groom would flick her breast with her forefinger until she attained what she considered the correct firmness. Jen was very aware of the constriction. It didn’t really hurt, at least not yet, but her breasts felt much more sensitive than normal.

She did not like this. Like so much else, she did not like it at all. Jen decided to complaint: “That is too tight.” The flick of the finger went from the side of her breast to the nipple. Now that hurt. Jen howled in pain, but she got the point. She shut her mouth.

The new harness below her waist was also different. First bands were fastened around each upper thigh. From these bands a strap ran up each side to the waist belt. Another belt circled her hips. It was supported in the front with a strap that ran from the front of the waist to a ring held just above her sex. It was joined to each of the straps running up her flanks, and it fastened in the back into a flat plate to which her tail, removed from the old harness and installed here, had been attached. Another strap ran from the rear plate up to her waist belt. From the front ring two straps extended down each side of her sex to the inside of the straps around her upper thighs. Jen saw the connectors for the sulkies. There was a set at her waist as on the old harness, but there was also a set on the strap at the sides of her hips. Jen recognized that this would be a much better place to connect the sulkies. She would be able to put a lot more power into her actions with a sulky attached to this better point.

New boots and a new bridle and bit in matching silver leather completed the outfit. After a time the trainers entered the room. After a careful inspection of the three ponies reins were attached to the bit in each mouth and each pony in turn was released from their hobble and from the poles to which they had been secured. It was very frustrating to watch the trainer, with a single hand, unsnap the clip connected to Jen’s elbows, the simple clip that had held her standing all night without relief. No effort at all, all you needed was hands. This simple act painfully underscored the degree to which Jen was dependent upon others for almost everything. Jen was tired and depressed. She really just wanted to collapse and get some rest, but she knew that was not going to happen.

They were led out of the building. The pens in front were now empty. Jen did not know where the slaves had been taken. The ship was still there. The cranes on the foredeck were now at work offloading materials from the hold of the ship. Jen watched as a crane lowered a pallet of material onto a low flat cart on the dock. Two male slaves, recognizable from their cuffs and iron collar were guiding the load onto the cart. Yoked to the front of the cart were two male work ponies. The ponies were similarly clad to Jen and her group except that the harness was heavy and utilitarian. But there was another significant difference that kept Jen’s eyes locked on them. Unlike Jen; unlike the other new ponies; these work horses did not have their arms encased in a cast behind their backs. Jen wanted to get a better angle to make sure, but she knew without the better view, they did not have a cast on their arms because they had NO arms. A portion of their harness wrapped around the upper body just below their shoulders with straps crossing over the area where arms would extend it they were present. This upper harness was then connected back to the middle of the yoke so that these horses could put the weight of their upper body into pulling the load on their cart. They were utility beasts and clearly worked very hard. Jen had never been so happy to be a girl. Jen and Abby gave no resistance as they were turned away to their left and hitched to the yoke of a two pony sulky.

Although the sight of the poor utility beasts still weighed on her mind Jen’s attention moved instead to the road in front of her. The crack (in the air) and then snap (against flesh) of the buggy whip spurred them on. It had been well over a week since Jen had been hitched to a sulky, but she found herself walking with raised knees easily capturing the movement. To her left was the beach. Beautiful white sand extended about 100 yards to bright blue water with almost no wave action. Jen could see that they were in a natural harbor embraced by long arms of land on either side forming a crescent. It was now mid-morning and the beach was already attracting a fair number of swimmers and sun worshipers. They all seemed fairly young, many, particularly the women, were not much older than her. Although Jen and Abby received occasional glances it was obvious that, around here, there was nothing extraordinary about two mostly naked ponies pulling a sulky up the road.

On the right was an open air terrace of a restaurant. Vine covered trellises enclosed the non-sea side and extended over the top creating some protection from the tropical sun. Slave girls with golden cuffs, collars, and belts dressed in billowing diaphanous clothing that hid almost nothing of what lay below were setting tables and preparing to open for the lunch meal, still several hours away. Next to the terrace the sulky passed what appeared to be the interior portion of the restaurant. Most of the activity seemed to be focused on the outside seating.

After passing the restaurant the sulky was turned to the right in front of the next building. The ponies found themselves pulling the sulky up a brick road with stores and bars on the right and a town square type park to the left. It appeared that there was another row of stores, bars, and restaurants facing the square against a roadway that capped the square, and another on the far side. The square was large at least 1,000 feet on each side. There was a large gazebo in the center and paths winding between fountains and flower beds. It was really quite tranquil and lovely – a very romantic settling. It appeared empty this morning.

Most of the stores were open. Most of the bars and restaurants were either still closed or in the process of opening. The climate here must be generally good Jen thought as she observed that the fronts of these commercial structures were designed to open almost fully to the street. Some guests could be seen in some of the stores interacting with clerks. The clerks all appeared to be free persons although every store had at least one slave standing or kneeling by the service counter or performing some task within the store. Most slaves had chains connecting their ankle cuffs, but with plenty of slack so as not to impair their duties. Very few had chained hands. The several that were kneeling were attached to the counter with a short chain from their collar. They held their hands in their lap and knelt motionless with their heads down. It must have been a trained position because they all looked the same.

The street was quite narrow. It would be very difficult for two automobiles to pass each other and in fact, Jen saw no automobiles. She did not even see road signs. Jen and Abby passed two hansom cabs parked by the side of the roadway in front of shops. Each had a team of two fillies. Their harnesses were black and each had a feathery plume extending from the back of her head. The cab was open with a seat for two passengers. There was a small platform for the driver to stand behind them. The cab had been built lightly, but there was still a great deal more weight than the simple sulky Jen and Abby were pulling. Jen was happy to see that the ponies did not seem disheartened or broken like the poor utility ponies that she had seen at the dock. They stood patiently waiting for passengers. One driver stood near his steeds brushing their hair and tails. Jen wondered if the cab drivers also performed the groom functions for their animals. Unless they could afford a slave it was likely. Jen was happy she was a racing pony. At least she hoped she was a racing pony. Could she and Abby end up driving hansom cabs for tourists around the town? “That was not going to happen!”

They were turned left at the top of the square but continued straight as they reached the far corner leaving the square. Once they had left the town square the commercial businesses quickly ended. As they left the last of these the driver signaled an increased pace and they were moved up to a trot. It actually felt good to be stretching her legs.

The road appeared to proceed straight and then gently turn to the right. The ground here was level with what looked like service buildings and even houses on either side. Where there townspeople here? What must they think of this place? Maybe they were just happy to be employees and not slaves. Maybe they even kept their own slaves. The more available slaves were the more people would vest themselves in the institution. But slavery was not legal anywhere. At least Jen thought it was not legal anywhere. The United Nations prohibited it. At least she thought they did. How did they keep the word from leaking out? Especially when it appeared that the slaves were not taken locally but were captured from other countries. People would care. If they knew people would care and they would stop this.

As they went into the turn at the end of the straight road they started moving inland. Jen could see a large structure ahead. It wasn’t quite Belmont Park, but it was pretty nice. They were approaching from the ocean side. The grandstands were on the other side; built into the natural rise of the landscape. It looked like they could accommodate a lot of people. They would look out over the track with the sea behind, a beautiful setting. Below the track, on the ocean side, was what appeared to be a training area. On the far side, from where they were approaching, there were stables. It appeared they were built so that the open end would face the ocean, probably to take advantage of the sea breezes. They were far enough in so as to not be visible from and thus not to obscure any of the view of the ocean from the stands. Below the formal racing track, separated by a hedge and a road were training paddocks surrounded by training tracks. What Jen presumed to be equipment buildings were nearby. On the side where they approached, on an intersection of the road leading to the track and the other dividing the track and the training area there were several animal pens and a small warehouse or exhibit type building. Double doors opened to the pen area.

The sulky was brought to a stop next to the pens. Jen was detached from the sulky. A serious looking woman pulled back Jen’s lip to look at her tattoo. She measured her height, but only from the ground to the nape of her neck. She checked her clipboard, made a check mark then she clipped a cardboard sign to Jen’s nipple rings. It was invasive and Jen did not like it, but like everything else here she could do nothing about it. She was led into the pen and hobbled. As she was trying to figure out what the sign said she was joined by Abby who was hobbled and then clipped to Jen at the waist by a line of about four feet. Abby’s sign said “Misty Night”. Her sign was now clear. She was Willow. “Could have been worse”, she told herself.

There were four other teams in pen. The irritating blond fillies from her ship where there. They were “Gullfaxi” and “Sleipnir”. There was a team of Asian fillies who Jen had never seen before. Their hair was long and midnight black. It shined in the sun. Their breasts were small but well formed. Their bronze colored skin was smooth and well oiled. They were smaller, but they looked fit and strong. They were “Ikezuki” and “Chollima”. Ikezuki looked at Willow. Her expression was confident; there was no hint of fear, desperation or even resignation. She even lowered her head, snorted and dragged her right hoof in the ground. “Really?” thought Jen. “Get over it.” Jen shook her head and looked away. This just got crazier and crazier all of the time. Jen looked at Abby. She was staring straight ahead into space seemingly not focused on anything.

The biggest surprise was a stud team. They were young like all the other ponies. It appeared 19-22 was the benchmark. They looked fit, but not muscular. They may be athletic, but, in their past life, they had not spent a great deal of time working out. They were dressed in similar fashion to the fillies except, of course, for the area between their legs. In the case of studs the end of the penis had been pierced and ringed. The penis was then pulled back and locked to a short chain extending from a band around the top of the scrotum. Willow was comforted by this later arrangement. She did not know what the policy on breeding was but she was certainly not comfortable with a couple of studs in a pen full of fillies. The studs were “Sir Excess” and “Rocinante”. Willow laughed; she wondered if Rocinante appreciated his name. She wondered if he had engaged in some unachievable activity to earn him the name of Don Quixote’s horse.

The last team in the pen was medium height, darker olive skin, and dark rich hair with warm brown eyes. Their breasts were not large but beautifully proportioned to their bodies. They had very small waists but well formed ample hips. They were very attractive and so similar in look that Willow wondered if they were twins. They were “Lucippe” and “Euippe”. Willow guessed it was Greek, but had no idea what it meant.

Willow heard the gate being opened. The last of the teams from the ship were led in. Unlike most of the others in the pen they looked downcast. They were already beaten. They were never going to make it as racing ponies. They were “Silver Spoon” and “Flying Tail”. That confirmed it; Jen could definitely have done worse than Willow. She doubted these two had any future in these stables. They belonged on the street pulling a hansom cab, not here.

Some of the ponies had strong names. She recognized Gullfaxi from the Norse mythology class she had taken. The golden mane of the namesake worked. She had done pretty well in that class. Wasn’t Sleipnir Odin’s horse? She wondered if the names signaled how the ponies were valued by the owners. The Norse ponies (as she now thought of them) did not need any more to help their ego or confidence. She didn’t know what Ikezuki and Chollima meant, but they sounded strong. (If she had taken a class on Asian history and mythology she might have learned that Ikezuki was the horse of the famous Shogun Yoritomo, the horse was well known for its swimming abilities – also for biting. Chollima was the mythical Korean thousand mile horse, winged like Pegasus.)

A woman with dark shoulder length hair and a green shirt with the letters PPA on the back came into the pen with another older blond woman. The blond woman was holding a folder. The dark haired woman would grasp the reins of the pony then peel back her lip. She appeared to be looking from the tattoo on the inside of the lip to her clipboard. Some notations were made on the clipboard and Jen could see the blond woman looking at documents in the folder she held. The dark haired woman would then look over the skin of the pony using the reins to turn the pony one way and another. She used her fingers to touch several red marks on the flank and buttocks of the pony she was inspecting and once again made notations on the clipboard.

After looking at several other ponies the women came to Jen. Jen could now see the words “Pony Protective Association” on the dark haired woman’s shirt. Her hand holding the clipboard also grasped Jen’s reins. She didn’t pull on them, but held them tightly while the other hand, also holding a pen, peeled back Jen’s lip. The woman looked from Jen’s lip to the clipboard and said: “registration matches.” Then she looked over to the blond woman and asked: “Contract or wild capture?”

The woman flipped through papers in her folder and replied: “We have a signed contract.”

“Like hell.” Jen thought. That contract was not enforceable. “No way.” She tried to say to the PPA woman but it just sounded like snorting. She shook her head back and forth in what she thought was a clear NO sign.

“Sssh” the woman said almost affectionately. She had released Jen’s lip and stroked the side of her head a couple of times. She looked at Jen’s flanks, legs, and buttocks. Other than a few almost healed red marks, none longer than an inch and a half and a large black bruise on her upper right leg where she had fallen when washed by the wave on the ship she was not marked. “You look like you have been well cared for.” She turned again to the blond haired woman. “Any use restrictions under the contract?”

“None. Primary categorization is to the pony service but authority to transfer to another division at her owner’s discretion subject only to PPA approval. Term is perpetual.”

“That matches.” Said the dark haired woman as she turned her attention back to Jen’s mouth checking her teeth.

Jen was stunned. They were trying to hold her on the basis of the stupid contract she had signed. She hadn’t read it. They had told her it was just a standard employment agreement. Jen twisted and shook her upper body. She looked at the PPA official and tried to say: “I did not agree to those things.”

The woman let go of her chin as Jen shook and twisted. “I have never understood why someone would irrevocably give up their freedom. It is surprising how many, like this one, seem to have reconsidered the idea, but a deal is a deal.” She looked into Jen’s eyes. “Sorry little one, you made your bed, your papers are in order, and you are approved for sale. But we will always be here to make sure your treatment is humane.”

Jen was completely dumbfounded. “Humane?” What part of this was humane? It was as if her legs were connected to the ground and not just to each other. She felt her stomach knot. She felt sick. She was afraid she was going to throw up. But she didn’t.

One by one the teams were taken into the building. About 10 minutes later another was led away. Jen and Abby were the third team to enter through the double doors near the pens. Inside was a livestock show area. Through the doors a short corridor was created by gates opened to block access to either the right or the left. Straight ahead was a display area about twenty feet to a side. It was brightly lit. As they passed into the ring area the gates that had been opened were closed behind them creating a complete pen on all four sides except that on three sides the side of the pen was made up of a wooden wall of about four feet with another two feet of railing above. Behind the wall on each of these sides was what appeared to be about a three foot walkway and then bleachers that angled up for about ten rows. Stairs on either side and at the two corners gave access to the upper rows. There were about forty people in the bleachers. They were seated in small groups and appeared to be carefully examining the occupants of the display area. At this time that was only Willow and Misty Night, there was no sign of the prior teams. They must have been removed already.

In the arena with them was a single handler. Above on the walkway near the rail was a middle aged man with a microphone in his hand. He began speaking with: “Now available, lot 7. Standing at 15.1, an almost perfectly matched pair. Though not purported to be of the same blood one can only speculate if they come from the same sire. Speed and ability is largely untested, but both are strong and agile.”

Jen did not like this. Like so much else here she did not like it at all. She was being objectified and sold. To make matters worse, as the auctioneer spoke about them the trainer had stepped up to Jen and put her hand around Jen’s breast. Using her breast as a lever she turned Jen to the right and the left stroking her thigh with the other hand. Jen shook her upper body attempting, without success, to free her breast from the hand that gripped it. She stomped her foot within the limits of the hobble to show her displeasure with this experience. “And clearly spirited.” Added the auctioneer.

Jen gave up and stood still. The bids had opened at $25,000, but they were moving up. As the bid crossed $40,000 Willow straightened her back and looked around the room. How high would they go? She didn’t know what the standard was, but $40,000 was a lot of money.

The hammer dropped at $44,500. The handler in the arena opened a case and placed a sticker of a palm tree onto the cards that said Willow and Misty Night. Then they were led out another gate in the side of the arena. They were taken into another area of the building and hitched to a rail. There was only one other team there. Naturally it was the bitchy Norse ponies. Their name cards displayed a bright sun. As if on cue a trainer dressed in khaki with a sun emblem on the back of her shirt walked in, took the reins, and led the Norse ponies away. Jen and Abby were left alone. The symbol must mean the stable, Jen thought. Thank heavens she and Abby were going to a different stable than the Norse ponies. She hoped the palm tree stable was a good place. Twisting at her arms she thought: “we might be there a very long time.”

She could hear some sounds from the arena, but could not see the team that was in there. Willow was anxious to see how the bidding compared on this new team in the arena but her attention was taken with the arrival of three figures. There was a man, middle aged, dark hair well groomed, wearing a white suit with an expensive shirt open at the collar. The crease in his pants hung perfectly straight without a wrinkle in sight. His leather shoes were clearly Italian, and very expensive. His cologne was musky, but at the same time subtle and not heavy. As he reached up and put his hand around her breast Willow could see perfectly manicured nails. His hands were as soft as cashmere gloves. She could not keep herself from looking into his face. His eyes were a dark green. She felt a stirring in her loins as she looked into a truly handsome face. She didn’t know what she should do, so she just stood there and looked at him. She realized that she was drooling around her bit as a drop fell from her mouth and landed onto the back of his hand. She was mortified, but he did not jerk his hand away. He did not become angry with her. Instead he smiled and stroked her hair. It was not done as a means of wiping his hand although it had the same effect; instead it felt loving and affectionate. She did not want his hands to leave her body. She hoped that some of his scent might transfer to her so she would be able to sense the closeness of their bodies. In reality no portion of his body other than his hand had actually touched her but in her mind they were rolling naked, completely entwined. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and enjoyed the way the scent played through her nose and into her mouth.

Then he took a step over and lifted Misty Night’s chin to look into her face. He was still smiling. Willow did not like this. She wanted him to return to her. She closed up the distance between her and Misty hoping he would turn his attention back to her, but he did not. Instead he turned to the two women who had come in with him. They were both dressed in the now familiar khaki shorts and shirts, except each of them had a palm tree emblazoned on the back of their shirts.

“The scouting reports on this one are very good.” He said gesturing toward Willow. “The other one is pretty weak. But they are a magnificent pair. I don’t want to break them up unless I absolutely have to. I think she has some potential for endurance even if she shows weak. I want training to focus primarily on preparation for the yearling two mile double harness run. That gives you less than ten weeks to get them ready. Can you do that?”

One of the trainers stepped forward and started touching the thigh muscles of both Willow and Misty. “There is pretty good muscle development. I think that should be enough time. Hopefully we will not have to spend too much time on conditioning. No matter how good a shape they were in before they will be a little out of shape after being confined on the ship for so long. They are a perfect parade pair. I recommend we spend some time making sure that their appearance in the parade is at least not embarrassing.”

“Of course.” He nodded his head. “But I really want that cup this year. Frank got the blond team. They are highly rated and will be tough competition. I don’t know who is going to get the Asians, but I can’t afford to buy another contender team so they will go to one of the other stables. I don’t think any of the other yearlings pose any challenge at all.”

“A race? A big important race. In less than two months. We can do this.” Willow was thinking. She kept looking at him hoping he would look back at here. “We will work hard. We will win for you.” She wanted to assure him that he had made the right decision in buying them. She nodded her head up and down and pushed herself toward him.

Her breast came into contact with his arm. He looked at her gesturing and nodding and attempts at communication. He wasn’t annoyed at her intrusion, in fact he smiled again. She would do anything to get him to smile. He put his hand against the side of her head and neck and stroked down over her shoulder. “Nice pony, I know you won’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” She tried to say leaning her head toward his hand as best she could.

He handed her reins to one of the trainers and started to walk away. Then he turned and looked back at them. “We will win. You are free to use the whip at your discretion.” Then he turned his back and left the room.

Willow watched him as he walked across the room hoping he would look back again, she watched until he had disappeared from view. As empty as she felt with his departure from her side, she still tingled from his touch. She wished she could put her hands in the places he had touched. She wanted more of his touch. She wanted to make him happy. She needed to make him happy. All she had to do was win. Well, they had to win. He said Misty was weak. That meant Misty had to step up. Willow remembered that Misty was having trouble their last day at the warehouse. She needed to do a lot better. Willow hoped that the trainers would not go light on her. She had been slacking. If she doesn’t get it together they should lay the whip on her. He was smart enough to see that, he didn’t want Willow held back by Misty. She wasn’t going to be. She was going to win if she had to drag Misty and the sulky all the way around the track.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a pull on her reins. The hobble had been removed and she was guided toward a door that led out of the building. Once outside the building they moved in the direction of the stables passing between the training area on their left and the race track on their right. Misty’s trainer walked ahead leading her by her reins. Willow’s trainer followed behind. Misty appeared to balk and pull back a couple of times, but a jerk on the reins had the effect of moving her forward. When someone held your reins you went where they guided you. There was really no choice in the matter.

The road they followed ran along the back of the formal race track separated by an immaculately trimmed hedge about four feet high. Over the top of the hedge Willow could see that the formal track consistent with normal construction was made up of two tracks, one within the other. The outside track was dirt the inside grass. A white rail fence defined the interior circumference of each track. The outside track must be about a mile in length (a fairly normal length for horse race tracks) which would make the interior track 7/8th of a mile. Willow wondered if her four legged brothers and sisters might also run here. She had not seen any sign of them so far, but the grass track did not seem at all suitable for the equine inhabitants she knew to be here, including herself. She hoped she would not have to race on it. She knew it rained a lot in the tropics; maybe they used the grass if things were too muddy. There was no sign of rain now. Blue sky with not a cloud.

As they neared the stable buildings Willow could see that each one had a sign hanging from the eave visible from the approaching path. There were no words on the signs, only a symbol. One was a palm tree. That was obviously her new stable. Willow wondered if they were heading for their stalls now. It was early afternoon, but it was getting very hot and she would not mind getting out of the sun.

Instead of turning into the doorway of the stable the trainer guided them into another building next to the stable. It was a type of barn/equipment room. The walls were festooned with tack and gear. Around the inside of the room were various types of sulkies, chariots, and other carts both fancy and plain.

Clearly Willow and Misty were not headed to their stalls for rest. The signs connected to their nipple rings were finally removed and then each of them was hooked into the yoke of a single pony sulky. It looked like Misty was twisting away from the connections making it more difficult for her trainer to complete the task. Willow was pretty sure this obstructive behavior would not end well for Misty. Had she not heard what their new owner had said? Obviously he was right. Misty needed better motivation, and if the threat of the whip did not turn the trick maybe its kiss would. Willow was completely cooperative with her trainer and she finished the task first. If Willow had hands she would have gladly lifted and held the bars of the yoke while it was connected. She even had her bells again. In her mind her owner was standing next to her stroking her head and telling her how pleased he was with her. She was going to make that image come true. She sniffed the air her mind trying to recreate his scent. It had only a hint of cologne. Musky and rich not flowery at all, it was clearly masculine, the scent of a powerful potent dominant male. Just the memory made her knees weak.