This work is copyright 2000-2004 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I'm not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren't. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don't make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
Story codes: (MF, FF, pony, SF, little sex)
There are currently eight stories in the Freehold series:
1. A Slave Girl of Freehold
2. A Ponygirl of Freehold
3. The Field Ecologist's Ponygirl (sequel to A Ponygirl of Freehold)
4. Delivery Ponyboy
5. Carriage Team of Freehold
6. Escaped Ponygirl
7. Pyramid Scheme
8. Gor meets Amazonia
Stories 2 and 3: Ponygirl and Field Ecologist form one story and should be read in that order. Story one leads into story 4, although there isn't any real continuity of plot.
Carriage Team of Freehold, Escaped Ponygirl, Pyramid Scheme and Gor Meets Amazonia form a sequence, to some extent based on events at the end of Delivery Ponyboy. You do not need to read them in sequence, but it may help fill in gaps.
Some additional background on Freehold, in particular, how it happened, is in the story "The Curtain Falls, The Curtain Rises," the end of the Ponygirl Transformation series.
The name Freehold has no relationship to any other use of the term by any other author. No connection should be assumed, either derivative or as a base for parody.
OK - now on to the story -------
Chapter 1. It happened this way: Twenty Years previously.
Chapter 2. The Princess Arrives.
Chapter 3. The Race.
Chapter 4. After the Race.
Chapter 5. Shopping Expedition.
Chapter 6. Plans
Chapter 7. Enclave Control Committee Meeting Number 497.
Chapter 8. Prep Time
Chapter 9. Unexpected efficiency causes a slight problem
Chapter 10. Temple Island
Chapter 11. The Stables
Chapter 12. Bureaucratic Flashback.
Chapter 13. Back at the stables.
Chapter 14. Diplomatic Dinner
Chapter 15. Sasha
Chapter 16. Enclave Control Committee Meeting Number 499.
Chapter 17. Payback Time.
Chapter 18. I Meet the Dodecahedron. We both survive.
Chapter 19. I buy Sleen.
Chapter 20. Customs Duty.
Chapter 21. Terri is a What???
Chapter 22. Introduction to the Dodecahedron.
Chapter 23. Interview with a ponyboy.
Chapter 24. Sojourn in Fantasyland.
Chapter 25. Conversation with the God’s Own Winemaker
Chapter 26. Master Skodarian.
Chapter 27. Taking Care of Terri.
Chapter 28. Council Business.
Chapter 29. Human Rights Conference.
Chapter 30. More Meetings.
Chapter 31. Bonnie out-clevers herself.
Chapter 32. Back at Master Skodarian’s.
Chapter 33. Another Mob Scene.
Chapter 34. Executive Reorganization.
In the last episode of Gor Meets Amazonia, we did a bit of a flashback about how Princess (then Duchess) Annabelle introduced herself to the Gorean Enclave with a show of swordsmanship that would baffle anyone who knows swordsmanship. All will eventually be revealed. Various other things moved along; Sherry has decided to immigrate to Freehold, and has discovered a few problems in her way, like she’s illiterate. Annabelle wants to turn me into the living representative of the gods, as the gods own ponygirl. I must say I’m intrigued by the idea.
“Is there anyplace around here we can race ponygirls?” the Princess asked as we were eating breakfast.
“Bonnie?” I prompted her. If anyone knew, it was either Bonnie or Frank, and he was out tending to the ponies.
“There’s a road around the orchard and gardens that might do. It’s not exactly a racetrack, but it’s wide enough for two chariots. At least in most places.”
“Could we start three off anywhere?” she asked.
“I think so,” Bonnie said. “Yes, there’s a wide place by the orchard that’s long enough to get three started before it narrows.”
“Well, that’ll have to do,” she said. “Flame, have Frank harness you to my chariot, and the twins to the other ones. Bonnie and Sherry can draw straws as to who gets which one. Be ready in an hour.”
For the first time in a long time, I had butterflies in my stomach as I told Frank about the deal. He had the gall to laugh!
“Well, you did say you’d be leaving here in harness, after all,” he said as he came up for air. “Shimmy out of that dress and drape yourself over the table.” He pointed at a small table that had odds and ends of leather on it. I unbuckled my belt and took off my dress. I thought a moment and then strapped my knife to my left leg.
“Should you be wearing that?” Frank asked.
“I wore it on my way here, and neither Prince Andy nor Steel Rivers batted an eye.” I told him. “If the Princess doesn’t want me to, she won’t be bashful about telling us.”
“Too true,” Frank said as I leaned over the table and lay down on it lengthwise. It was narrow enough that my arms and legs hung out over the sides; in fact, I could almost touch the floor with my toes. Frank walked over to the storeroom and came back in a moment. Then he swatted my left thigh, and I brought my leg up. He stuffed my foot into the hoof boot and zipped it, making sure that he had the torsion lock closed. A couple of minutes later, he had all four limbs stuffed into the boots, which were firmly planted on the floor.
“Upsie-daisy,” he drawled, and I stood up behind the table. “Arms up.” He draped a pile of leather straps over my shoulders and began tightening belts. The ponygirl harness is designed to distribute the load, not to look pretty, although it does a fair job of that. The foundation goes around my waist and lower rib cage, curving over my hips and defining the bottom of my breasts. It comes down in front, nicely concealing my sex, and has a strap that comes under and back up, dividing around my tail and attaching to the bottom of the corset in back.
The top of the harness crosses my shoulders and is secured by a strap that goes all the way around above my breasts and under my arms. The shoulder straps attach to rings, and another ring comes down between my breasts to the corset. Several more straps weld the entire assemblage tight enough that I can’t twist very much.
Once he got that contraption tightened to his satisfaction, he tapped one of my arms. I brought them back behind me crosswise, and he clipped the hoof boots together.
“Now, let’s see you get out of that one!” he said.
I felt for the quick release leavers and pushed. The hoof boots opened up, just like they were supposed to, and I brought my arms forward.
“Me and my big mouth,” he said as I laughed at him. “How do these go back together,” he mused as he looked at them. In a moment, he had figured it out, and sealed them up. I let him put them on me and buckle my arms behind me, the perfect picture of the innocent ponygirl.
He backed off and looked at me, frowning. “That’s the wrong place for the knife,” he said. “If you need to break out, you’ll want it in a hurry.” He took it off my leg and buckled it around one of the front hoof boots. Nice to have a groom that knows about weapons. Besides which, he was absolutely right. It also wouldn’t be as obvious there.
Then he dropped the leather straps of my bridle over my head, and tightened them down. “Do you need checkreins or blinders, I wonder,” he said musingly.
“I certainly hope not,” the Princess said from the doorway. “The god’s own ponygirl shouldn’t need either. I think. Anyway, right now I want to find out how she handles without them.”
“Good enough,” he said, holding the bit out in front of me. I decided to be good and open my mouth so he could set it in. With some of the grooms, I’d tease them a bit by shying away from the thing, and making them hold my nose. I didn’t want to be quite that familiar with Frank, yet.
He put it in and fastened it to the bridle, making certain that everything was tight. Then he clipped reins to the bit, and walked me over to the chariot. I noticed the Princess frown as she watched. Frank was holding me tightly enough that I couldn’t turn and signal a question.
This chariot had a different set of shafts than I was used to. The regular shafts were somewhat of a stair step. They came out level from the bottom of the chariot, twisted up to about waist height, and then came level again. This set came up at a much lower angel to midthigh and then gracefully curved back, with the final section level and about waist high. I shrugged metaphorically; I was harnessed tightly enough that I couldn’t do it in reality. Either the reason would become apparent, or I’d ask afterwards – assuming I still cared.
He backed me between the shafts and swiftly buckled the traces to my corset. In a moment, I’d been locked into a leather and steel construction that made it impossible for me to so much as twitch without the chariot moving, and vice versa.
Well, it wasn’t quite that bad, but the traces didn’t allow any slack. If I moved, it moved. I guess that was the point, actually.
While all this was going on, I’d noticed that both Rippling Stream and Sparkling Brook were already harnessed and standing at the hitching rack, waiting. They were both outfitted with blinders and checkreins, which was usual for them.
He handed the reins to the Princess, and a moment later I felt the tension in my waistband that told me she had gotten into the chariot. It steadied, and then I felt the tension as she put pressure on the reins.
She flicked them lightly, and I leaned forward, starting the chariot moving. She guided me around the courtyard once, and brought me to a halt where I could see the two blondes still standing at the rail. A moment later, Bonnie and Sherry walked down the path toward the hitching rack, talking animatedly about something.
Bonnie got in one, and Sherry got in the other. A moment later, Bonnie had her white-maned ponygirl trotting down the path to the back gardens. The princess had me fall in behind her, and then I heard Sherry with her chariot take up the rear.
Bonnie led us around the path once. Like she said, a racetrack it wasn’t. It was smooth most of the way, but there were some bumpy places, and it wandered back and forth with lots of corners, none of which were graded to be taken by racing ponygirls that had any speed up.
We stopped when we got back to the wide spot in the road. Our drivers positioned us so our hooves were planted on a line the Princess had drawn on the ground with a stick. Then she said: “We start the next time that bird screams after I say now.” A moment later, she said: “Now.”
I waited, then the bird screamed and I pulled away, trying to get up speed without straining anything. The Princess sawed at my reins a moment, and then steadied. She pulled me left to go around the first corner, and then it was just keeping one hoof in front of another.
After the first burst of speed, she pulled me back to a steady gallop. We went around a couple more turns, at least one of which should have had a speed limit posted. I’ll swear I felt those shafts trying to turn me over on the side, but we managed to stay upright.
Then we hit a straight stretch, and I felt a line of fire on my ass. I’d thought that whip was for show, but no, she seemed to believe in using it. I leaped ahead with a jerk, putting on a burst of speed I didn’t know I had. I’d like to say I decided to do that, but it wasn’t that complicated. It just went right past my mind into my hindbrain.
A few more turns, and the Princess pulled me to a stop back where we had started. Then she flicked the reins, and had me walk around that section, turning me before the roadway narrowed. We’d managed to beat the other two handily: they were still coming down the final stretch of road, Sherry in the lead.
They walked us around a few times to cool down, and then the Princess motioned the other two down from their chariots and they had a talk. Then we went around a second time. This time, the Princess was a good deal more liberal with that whip! By the time we crossed the finish line, I knew I’d been in a race; my chest was heaving with the attempt to get enough air to breath. Bonnie and Sherry managed to pull up right after us; as we went around catching our breath and cooling down I saw that both of the blondes had well striped asses.
Then they tied our reins to a handy tree and gave us water. As we stood there, butts smarting, Sherry spread a picnic blanket, and the three of them sat down to a light lunch. A half hour later, they finished up and took us around that course for a third time!
This time, Sherry managed to win. Whichever of the blondes she was driving had figured the start out, and plunged ahead as soon as the bird squawked. Sherry managed to get her steed inside on that first turn, and we spent the rest of the race watching her chariot bounce along.
We almost regained the lead on one of the reverse turns, but there wasn’t quite enough straightaway for the Princess to whip me close enough to keep her from crossing in front and taking the inside again.
When we got back, Frank gave me a good scrub down and rubbed in a lotion that took the sting right out of those whip streaks.
“How’d it go?” he asked as I struggled back into my dress.
“Two out of three,” I answered. “Give Sherry’s girl a treat; she beat us the third race fair and square.”
“Shouldn’t I be giving Sherry the treat?” he smirked.
“Up to her,” I punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously, as far as I can tell, Sherry is a good driver, but her steed figured out the start. That’s how we won the first two: I started on the signal, and the other two waited for their driver to tell them to start.”
“Interesting,” he said as he went to unhitch the closer of the twins.
“What did you think of the race?” the Princess asked over dinner.
“I’d have to say I enjoyed it, mostly,” I answered after a pause to gather my thoughts.
“It may be very perverse of me, but I like being a ponygirl. It might be different if I spent all day going around that pump, and it’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life, but right now it’s scratching an itch I didn’t know I had.”
“What about the way I striped you this morning?”
“I don’t know of any other way you could have gotten me to go that fast,” I answered without thinking.
Frank snorted. “That’s what Sparkling Brook says, too.” The Princess nodded at him to continue. “She didn’t like it, but she accepts it as part of being a ponygirl. Rippling Stream didn’t like it at all, and was muttering that she was going to balk if Bonnie did it again.”
I shook my head. “Will wonders never cease? The twins actually disagreeing about something.”
“Winning that third race might have had something to do with it?” Sherry hazarded.
“It might at that,” the Princess said. “It’s not really important; what I wanted was to find out how Running Flame reacted.”
Bonnie looked at Sherry. “Well, I think we should trade off if we do it again. You’re the better driver.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Do it,” the Princess confirmed.
“Now, Flame, I noticed that you didn’t high step. In fact, I noticed that none of the ponies did, although I’m not that concerned about the twins. Did they teach you that step?”
“Yes, Princess,” I replied, remembering the dressage steps in training.
“Well, the god’s own ponygirl has got to know every show step in the book, and do them well. You’ll work out with Sherry two hours a day until you’ve got them down.”
Ouch. Well, I could always run away and join the circus after this was done. “Yes, Princess.”
“Frank,” she changed the subject, “you’ve been wondering about how the Gorean enclave ponygirls work. Sherry, tell him what you know.”
“Well, from what I learned while I was growing up, the gods gave us a talisman that lets the trainers turn someone into a pony. When they do, the person quits speaking and his hands and feet turn into hooves, and he’s as strong as a horse. That’s about all I know.”
“And that’s about all most of the inhabitants know,” the Princess continued. “What actually happened is that they bought it from the predecessor organization to the Dodecahedron. Freehold got a very similar system a couple of years later when we got organized. The difference is that we got the entire technology, and we’ve been improving it right along. The Gorean and Amazonian Enclave doesn’t have a clue about how it works; they just point it and pull the trigger.
“So our ponies are substantially better. They’re faster, for one thing. All of them could have left the team I came with in the dust without half trying. They’re a bit stronger, and they have a lot more stamina. The environmental package will let them survive in environments that would freeze or fry anyone else.”
“Why that much?” I asked, curious.
“Partially because you make very handy experimental subjects,” she grinned evilly. “However, partly because we leave many of the mods in place when someone graduates from the program; it’s partial compensation for being in the program in the first place. Even the tail stays if you want it; I’m sure you noticed that a lot of the personnel around the training stables had tails.
“The point of this is that you have to be better than the general run of ponygirl over there. The god’s own ponygirl has to be able to live up to the billing. Especially since you’ll be swapping back and forth between being a ponygirl and being one of the ranking priestesses.
“We took over their process a few years ago. Infrastructure says that their voices will come right back as soon as the gods decree that ponies can talk, and it’s sinful to keep them from talking to each other.”
Bonnie laughed. “What a scam! I’d almost like in on it!”
Annabelle looked at her a moment with a fleeting expression as if something had crawled out from under a rock. I don’t think anyone else saw it, because it was followed by a feral grin that would have sent me looking for a good, big rock to crawl under myself. Fortunately, it wasn’t directed at me.
“And I may be looking for a new maid and general assistant,” she practically purred. “I’m not sure what way Sherry is going to jump just yet.”
“What do I get out of it?” Bonnie asked.
“You don’t have to immigrate to Freehold first. You’ll go directly to the Gorean enclave for training.”
I sat back to watch the show. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Meaning I don’t have to become a ponygirl,” she said.
Sherry opened her mouth, and I saw the Princess make a quick hand gesture. Sherry closed her mouth again without saying a word. Bonnie didn’t notice a thing.
I’d noticed that Frank seemed to be mulling something over. He decided to weigh in with: “I wouldn’t take her up on that offer if I were you.”
“Why not?” Bonnie turned to look at him.
“I’ve been there.” The Princess’ eyebrows went up at that statement. “A couple of runs on a smuggling project that didn’t work out. The slave girl I was loaned was a teenager’s wet dream. I asked her a bit about how she happened to be there.”
“Hm?” the Princess asked.
“It’s always good to know who you’re dealing with, especially if it’s anywhere around Freehold. Frankly, I’d rather take my correction here than move there. I could probably make it as an enforcer, but I’d be living on someone else’s leavings. Besides…” He let it hang.
“You’re not being very clear,” Bonnie said.
“I can read the signals. The Princess shut Sherry up when she was going to say something; I’m not going to elaborate.”
“Flame?” she was grasping at straws. I decided to be a bit elliptical.
“I don’t know what the Princess has in mind, to be honest. However, I really don’t think that a bronze slave collar, a barber pole tunic and three hours of prayers and devotions every day is that much better than being a ponygirl for a couple of years. I wouldn’t take it.” Sherry looked like she disagreed with me. Strongly. Well, I could understand that; the ponies in the Enclave weren’t the same.
The Princess shot me a look that said: “later…”
Bonnie noticed the byplay, but decided on one last try. “Sherry?” she almost wailed.
“Her Holiness has sealed my lips by her will,” Sherry intoned, as if it was ritual. I suppose it was, at that.
Bonnie looked back and forth between us, in an agony of indecision.
I decided to be a bit more cryptic. “Remember the donkey and the haystacks.” Frank almost choked on the bite of ox steak he was about to swallow. Sherry pounded him on the back until he recovered.
“Couldn’t make up its mind which haystack to eat, so it starved to death.”
“I’m going to have to think about this,” she muttered, staring at her plate.
“What’s being a ponygirl like?” she asked me.
“You’ll find out when you get to the training stable,” I told her, a malicious gleam in my eye. Then I decided to relent a bit.
“It’s not that bad once you get over the hump. About half of the ponies are career. For the rest, the average time to advance is about two years.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” she said, almost plaintively.
“It wasn’t intended to,” I said. “I’m a character actress, so I tried to figure out what was going on with most of the ponies I trained with. I was never in taxi, so I never did talk to any of the ones that had been there a while. In other words, I don’t know what’s going on in the career pony’s heads.”
Bonnie shook her head and addressed her plate. The Princess signaled Sherry to bring in the desert, which was a very nicely done fruit pie. I really was going to miss Bonnie’s cooking.
“What’s going on?” Bonnie asked me as soon as we got to our sleeping chamber for the night.
“The High Priestess has sealed my lips by her will,” I intoned in a passable imitation of Sherry.
“Look. She’s not here.” Bonnie stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me. I decided to apply one of the lessons from my Introduction to the Gorean Enclave. I pointed to the foot of the bed with my first two fingers partially extended together and partially curled under. She looked at me in puzzlement and then looked at where I was pointing. Frank laughed.
“You are. Sitting on your heels, I think,” Frank explained.
“You think?” Bonnie still stood there, glaring.
“The hand signal I learned was two fingers extended; it means kneel.”
I made another signal. Frank walked over to Bonnie and twirled her around. A moment later a very confused young woman was sitting on her heels at the foot of the bed, her neck locked in the bronze collar.
“Why you… Mmmmph!”
Ball gags are handy things. I hadn’t been sure whether Bonnie was going to accept it or make a scene, so I’d borrowed one from the dungeon in the basement just in case.
She brought her hands up to remove it; I looked her in the eye and shook my head. She glowered a moment, and then dropped her eyes.
I set her communicator in front of her, and then Frank and I left for the bathing chamber.
“Now that’s what I call efficiency! Do you think she’s going to get it?” Frank asked me as we walked down the corridor toward the stairs.
I shrugged. “Who knows? The Princess indicated we weren’t to tell her, but she didn’t say anything about not showing her.”
When we got back, Bonnie was still sitting there, mouth curved around the gag. I checked the buckle; she hadn’t played with it. I pointed at the bed. Frank slid in and locked the collar around his neck. I blew out the lantern and joined him. We made no attempt to be quiet. As I drifted off to sleep, satiated, I heard Bonnie orgasm noisily. Well, I thought, I hadn’t told her not to.
In the morning, Bonnie seemed to have gotten over her snit. As soon as I unlocked her collar, she scooted out to begin the day’s routine. I went to wait upon Her Highness.
“Do you have any idea what way she’s going to jump?” she asked.
“Not really. She tried to pump me last night, so I gave her a taste of position discipline. I think she’s finally remembered that in this enclave, she’s a slave and has to take orders with some semblance of good grace.”
The Princess chuckled.
“Well, from what Sherry told me, I certainly wouldn’t look forward to my first few weeks there as a slave girl.”
“Nor would I. Sherry was lucky. Most of the slave trainers will ignore willing submission and go on to break the slave. The one that got her doesn’t break slaves as much as mould them.
“So, what’s it going to do to your arrangements if Sherry decides to leave for Freehold shortly and Bonnie comes over to me?”
“Short term, I’d suggest a one for one swap. You get Bonnie; I get Sherry. Putting Sherry over Bonnie is probably going to be good for both of them. Long term, we’re going to need another body or two on the housekeeping staff.”
“What about when Prince Andy gets here this afternoon?”
“Well, that’s going to stress Frank. The Prince and Steel Rivers won’t be a problem; from what I’ve been allowed to learn of the Prince’s valet he’ll fit right in. In fact, he might be better at running the household than I am.”
“I’m going to keep you on in that position. He’s really more into personal service. Not that running the household is beyond him; he’d be fairly good at it. But he’d be running it for the prince; you’re more likely to run it for all of us.” I nodded.
“The problem is the four bearers. I found out that they were given to the Prince; they’re his personal property, so we need another couple of supervisors, unless we either sell them or stuff them in a cage until we need them.”
“I don’t want to do either. I take it feeding them won’t be a problem? So what do you want to do?”
“Well, if they can be used as field slaves, I want a farmer and a groom.”
“And if they can’t? Well, we’ll deal with that when we come to it. Ask Bonnie and Frank what the market is like.” She grinned. “I’ve got the urge to go shopping.”
What’s going to happen to Sherry? And what does a real slave market look like? And what are they going to think of the ponies? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of Gor Meets Amazonia!
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