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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.
Now on to the story...
The date is sometime around 2400, and Jenny Jackson is ready to graduate from high school. She discovers, contrary to every reasonable expectation, that she is not picked as a wife, nor is she going to college. Instead, she’s been routed to a job as a collared worker in Reliable’s ponygirl manufacturing process. She finds out that manufacturing only looks simple; it’s anything but.
Meanwhile, a girl named Audry has decided to drop out and become a wild girl; she’s going to hide out at the Taxi Service as a ponygirl.
By now Jenny has spent several months in Stage 2 of Ponygirl Manufacturing, has gotten to criterion on shift work and is learning more of the business. She’s trained three of her former classmates and has been trained as both a ponygirl and an engine.
Then she finds out she’s headed to college. She collects the other three girls who will be traveling with her and gets the engines installed on their mounts in the rental car they will be taking. They have an enlightening discussion on the way.
Then they stop overnight. When the dust (not to mention the sex) settles, Jenny discovers that Beth thinks she’s Jenny’s wife. The settle in, and Jenny discovers her work assignment is with the Taxi Service.
“So you’re my new intern,” the voice boomed at her.
“I guess so,” Jenny answered, spellbound by the sight of hundreds of ponygirls on the floor and out in the yard. Ponygirls that weren’t harnessed or otherwise restrained.
“It always gets visitors the first time,” the voice said. “I’m Jeff Steele, and I run this place, at least as much as it’s possible to run it. Call me Jeff.”
“Hi Jeff. I’m Jenny.”
“So I gathered. How much do you know of how we operate?”
“Less than I thought. I take it that you have the ponygirls do all the maintenance?”
“Only way to do it. It keeps them busy and out of mischief, and keeps all the equipment up to snuff. At least all the mechanicals; all they can do with computers is replace them.”
He gently herded her toward a small elevator bank as he talked.
“Some of our staff works down here in the madhouse, but most of us are on the third floor. The second is the ponygirl’s dormitory.”
The elevator doors opened and they walked out into an open office.
“I’m going to start you off in operations. That’s where we decide how many taxis we need on the street at any time, and where they need to be. The computer does the detail, but nobody’s ever built a scheduling program that’s as good as a couple of interested staffers that just get the job done.”
“I think I see.”
“You will. The second thing it’ll do is get you familiar with the city and the events calendar. As well as what goes wrong all the time.”
“Things go wrong?”
“That’s a law of nature, honey,” an amused soprano voice said. “I’m Gina, and I’m one of the people that tries to keep on top of things. I take it you’re Jenny, and you’re bewildered by all of this. Especially the ops map.” She waved a hand at the display that took up one entire wall of the room. The room itself seemed to be arranged theater style, with three semicircles of desks, each on a platform that dropped them a foot. It gave everyone a clear view of the map display.
“That looks useful.”
“Well, it is and it isn’t. It shows current status. Some of the codes and colors are current, some of them are projections. The displays on the desks are better; there are more of them, and you can make the computer show you exactly what you’re interested in at the time. It’s a pity you haven’t worked with ponygirls before, because we need people down on the floor desperately.”
Jenny almost laughed. “I spent three months at Reliable training them before I found I was college bound.”
“You did? All I knew is we were getting a student.”
“They told me she had some experience, but not what,” Jeff boomed. “So take her down and introduce her to inhouse ops.”
“Sure thing,” Gina said. “This way.”
“Part of the reason we keep needing people is that downstairs is a woman only position. We can’t advertise it that way, but a couple of hundred naked females who all want a real man inside them right now is just too much for the average male to handle.”
Jenny laughed. “I gather there were a fair number of men farther down the line, but my unit was women only as well.”
“Gina, you’re bringing a student down here?” the supervisor said.
“Vicky, she said she worked for Reliable training them,” Gina answered.
“So you’re not insane. Yet.”
Gina laughed. “We need help down here more than upstairs.”
“Too true.” She waved Gina away. “So let’s start out with the office.” She walked into a large room that seemed, at first glance, to be laid out like the ops center Jenny had just left.
“This is downstairs ops. Upstairs is concerned with keeping the flow of taxis in the city running smoothly, we’re concerned with what happens inside the building.”
“Jeff said the ponygirls run things down here?”
“Well, they do and they don’t. We’ve got a few supervisors on the floor in critical areas, but for the most part the girls do the various tasks as well as a crew of normal people would. In fact, if they can do it at all, they’re usually better. There are some interesting holes though, and one of them is maintenance. We’ll get to that later.
“They do the tasks well, but if we tried to get them to put it all together, it would fall into a shambles faster than you could believe. They simply don’t have the big picture, and couldn’t work with it if we tried to show them.”
“I can understand that,” Jenny answered. “Speedy, that’s my family’s ponygirl, certainly had limits that we had to work around. I learned a bit about how it all works in my time at Reliable.”
“Good. This is going to be your workstation, although you won’t be here that much. It’s the same as the stations upstairs. We’ve got spares so you won’t be doubling up on shift with anyone.
“Now, look at the big screen. What do you see?”
“Um. Three pieces.”
“Right. The display on the left is a plan view of the first floor, which is where all the work gets done. The codes show what’s going on right now in the various areas. The display on the right is the same view of the ponygirl’s quarters upstairs. That’s basically dormitories, cleaning stuff, the showers and a set of servicing units with the kitchen where they prepare the nutrients. There’s another set of showers and servicing units downstairs, but it’s supplied from the upstairs kitchen.
“The display in the center is a bigger view of whatever we’re having trouble with at the moment, or sometimes a direct view from the monitors.”
“Got it. I think.”
“So let’s start off with a quick tour so you know where things are.
“This building is actually a hollow square. There are stores on the corners, but we’ve got street exits on all four sides, and we use all four sides. This is a harnessing area. As you can see, we can do a half dozen at a time; during the buildup to the morning rush we put ten taxis a minute onto the street.”
“Your choreography must be amazing.”
“It’s not, really. It’s a standard pull system. The harnessing areas are flow through. The taxi movement teams bring the taxis in a steady stream and they put them into the next empty slot. The girls put on their own tack, and they go to the next taxi. The harnessing team buckles them into the traces, attaches and checks the reins and cuffs their hands to the shafts. They press go on the computer and it takes them right out. The taxi team brings the next taxi up and it repeats. We meter the rate by how many of the harnessing areas we have open.
“The taxis have got a small battery and generator attached to the wheels to power the computer and the lights, but it wouldn’t be cost effective to beef that up so we could fully automate the taxi movement. Besides, it would replace free ponygirl labor with more expensive labor to maintain the system. And they’d pout if we put them out of the job.”
Jenny giggled at the thought of a ponygirl pouting.
“They come back in here,” she moved over, “and the process almost reverses itself. The reason it isn’t a complete reversal is that we also handle servicing. They usually come in three times in a shift for servicing. The team unbuckles them from the taxi and they go to the servicing unit. It empties their bladder and fills their stomach, and then they go right back, get buckled in and go out again. They work 8 to 10 hour shifts.
“We’ve got servicing stations scattered all over the city. It would be horribly inefficient if they all had to come back here. They do come back at the end of the shift, or rather the computer routes them back. The process reverses; they get unbuckled, they take their own tack off, clean it and put it away. The storage crew does a quick check before taking the taxi back to the storage rack. The computer has enough sensors to tell if something’s about to fail. If it fails the check, it goes over here.
“We can have problems anywhere, but maintenance is where we spend most of our time. The reason is that the ponygirls can’t interpret the computer’s diagnostics, and sometimes it isn’t really obvious to them what’s about to go wrong.”
“I can understand that. Speedy was really good when she knew what to do, but she’d get confused if she couldn’t see it right away by moving something.” Jenny shrugged. “She’d show us what she didn’t think was right, and Dad, Mom or one of the older kids would figure it out and show her the problem. Then she’d fix it.”
“That’s basically what we do. They’ve got their own hierarchy; if one of them can’t figure it out, they call in another one that’s better at it and they go at it together. Then if they can’t figure it out one of us checks the diagnostic and marks the parts to replace.”
“It ought to work.”
“Oh, it does. It’s just that sometimes we’ve got a stack of taxis waiting for one of us to look at them. And we have to keep on them about checking parts out through the inventory system. As far as they’re concerned, parts appear in the storeroom by magic or something; they can’t connect the checkout scanner with refilling the inventory.”
“So inventory control and reordering is an issue.”
“It’s manageable as long as we keep on it. We keep more parts inventory than we should so that we don’t run out if we don’t spot a shortage immediately.”
“That’s the production part of the system,” Vicky continued. “The rest is keeping them happy when they’re not working. The center of the square here is for athletic games. They do a fair amount of game playing. You’d think they were guys, but I guess they do need more balanced exercise and they know it as well as we do.
“This area,” she led into an enclosed space, “is crafts. They do some weird work. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I know people who swear it has to be space aliens. If I hadn’t seen them putting it out, I might be tempted to agree!
“The we have the kitchens, servicing units and showers. They do all of this themselves.
“The dormitory for sleeping is upstairs. They only use it for sleeping and for sex.”
“This is amazing,” Jenny shook her head. “I had to study a quick overview of taxi when I was in one of Reliable’s manufacturing cells, but I had no idea!”
Jenny looked at Beth and nodded. Now.
“Lover, what would make your life complete?”
Beth looked up dreamily. “Wearing my husband’s collar,” she breathed, lifting her face to nuzzle Jenny.
“I’ve been checking...” Jenny said.
“And?” Beth caught her breath.
“It turns out I can make you my wife officially.”
“But not for a long time.”
“Darn,” Beth pouted.
“But there is something else.”
“Close your eyes; I’ll just be a minute.”
Beth obediently closed her eyes as Jenny vanished into the workroom. She heard the sound of a package being opened and smiled.
“You can open them now.”
Beth opened her eyes and gasped. Jenny had a collar, two sets of cuffs and a neatly coiled leash on her belt.
“You’re going to,” Beth whispered, unable to take her eyes off the implements.
“Turn around, honey,” Jenny ordered.
Beth turned around, and Jenny swiftly shackled her arms together at the elbow and wrist.
“Around again,” Jenny ordered.
Beth turned to face her lover. She dropped her eyes to the ground and then knelt, legs spread wide, and bent forward.
“You really want to do this?”
Jenny slid her hair to one side and took the collar off her belt. “Read it,” she ordered as she held it in front of Beth’s face.
The collar had ‘Beth Daniels’ engraved to the left of the ring, and ‘Jenny Jackson’ to the right. In smaller letters it had ‘in devoted obedience’ engraved above the post that held the ring, and ‘as long as their passion shall last’ engraved below.
Beth read the four lines engraved on the front. “Beth Daniels, in devoted obedience to, Jenny Jackson, as long as their passion shall last.
“It’s a passion collar!”
“Of course it is, love. I can’t bend the rules enough to make you my wife yet.” She slid the open collar around her lover’s neck and closed it. It locked with a snap.
She put her hand on Beth’s head, pushing it down so she had to look at the floor. “By my will and your will, I, Jenny Jackson, take you, Beth Daniels, in unqualified love, devotion and obedience as long as our passion shall last.”
Beth breathed: “Oh, yes, lover!”
“Up and make lips!”
Beth scrambled to her feet and tilted her head back, eyes closed and lips puckered. Jenny gathered her in for a long, passionate kiss. Then she snapped the leash on Beth’s new collar and tugged her toward the bedroom. Beth followed, a triumphant grin on her face.
A while later Beth sat on the floor, curled against Jenny’s legs and occasionally touching her collar as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
“There are a couple of details to finish off,” Jenny said as she tousled her lover’s hair. “We need to make it official. Get your reader.”
Beth scrambled up and came back in a moment, a puzzled look on her face.
“It’s under current. You’ve got to accept it.”
“Oh.” Her fingers danced across the back. “Done!”
“Now for the boring stuff.”
“It’s my collar! It can’t be boring!”
Jenny giggled. “A passion collar isn’t the same as other collars. You can take it off when you need to, and you can disavow the relationship whenever you want.”
“I’m yours forever!” Beth proclaimed.
“If we’re still together, we’ll renew our vows when I can give you a wife’s collar. Then it’ll be forever.”
“Good,” Beth said with a tone of satisfaction.
“There are going to be times when you can’t wear it.”
“You’re still Beth Daniels, student professional, not Beth Jackson, Jenny Jackson’s wife. There’s a certain amount of credibility you need to function. You won’t be credible as a professional if you’re wearing a collar while you’re too young to have finished raising your family. You’d think a passion collar would be different, but it isn’t. Most people can’t tell the difference, and for most of those that can it’s still a collar is a collar is a collar. If you don’t keep that in mind, you could wind up back as Beth, collared worker.”
“Yes. Darn. You can wear it to classes and around campus, but I’d suggest you don’t wear it off campus.”
“Oh, right. There are enough wives taking classes, aren’t there?”
“Right. Passion collars aren’t that unusual around campus. You just need to know how to spot them or you’ll think it’s a wife collar or slave collar.”
“How to spot one?”
“Wife collars have a line of engraving above the post, passion collars have one above and one below the post.”
“Oh. Right. Collared workers, engines and ponygirls don’t have either.” Beth snuggled up against Jenny’s leg.
So Jenny’s working in the middle of several hundred ponygirls, and she’s made her ‘wife’ happy by collaring her. It’s a passion collar rather than a wife collar, but so what? A collar is a collar. The next plot twist is in the next exciting episode of Ponygirl Minder.
If you enjoyed this story, please e-mail the author and let him know. He likes to hear from his loyal fans, and it gives him some motivation to keep writing this stuff. Of course, if you're a publisher and you'd like to buy some of these stories, please let him know. The starving author in the garret makes a great story, but it sucks in real life.