Sabel Ch. 01-03

Sabel raised her hand.

"Yes, Sabel?"

"This is true, I know. In the farm I was born, ponyboys had plates on their collars saying, "Property of Ms. Stevenson."

Cathy nodded.

"Charra, come here and put your left foot on the desk."

The girl did as she was told. Miss Cathy touched the steel circlet on her ankle with the tip of her crop:

"There is nothing debasing in being owned. Those of you who are in the Sixth Station are in a way owned by the New State, right? You are sent to work wherever you are needed, and nobody asks you if you want to go or not. The only difference if you ascend to pony status is that you will belong to a private person, or to a company. No need to make a big fuss of that. Now go back to your seat."

The Mexican girl walked back to her place, but turned to the teacher before sitting down and raised her hand.

"Miss Cathy - you said, "ascend to pony status". But in the Sixth Station we can take tests to improve our condition, and as ponies we cannot. Is thisascending?"

The teacher had expected that question, which never failed to appear in the first days of a pony instruction course.

"Charra, first none of you is being forced to become a ponygirl, and second, you will have someone to care for you for the rest of your life. No more worries, except to please your owner and do your job in a manner that brings pride both for you and for him or her. Company ponies are very valuable property, and no one would be stupid enough to let his ponies suffer unnecessarily. Privately owned ones are often shown how much affection their owners have for them, and share in the prestige of the person they belong to."

Sabel's black face illuminated at those words, something that did not escape Miss Cathy's keen eye. She repressed a smile and pointed to a Chinese girl, whose hand was waving anxiously.

"Yes, Chi Ling?"

"What happens if you want to stop being a ponygirl?"

" Nothing. You cannot. Unless you are so lazy and disobedient that your owner reports on you. Then you are downstationed and become a Breeder."

An Indian girl with huge breasts raised her hand.

"How do we know where we will go when the course ends, Miss Cathy?"

"It will depend on my recommendations and on the results of your midterm. In the second half of the course, those who succeed will start working for her new owners. The very best will be offered to people in the First and Second Stations and will live in nice stables in private homes."

"STABLES?" Sabel almost jumped from her seat. "What do you mean, stables?"

Miss Cathy smiled at the lovely ebony's startled leap.

"Yes, Sabel. Stables. They are quite nice really, with fresh straw in each stall. And fresh water, too."

"But... for people, Miss Cathy?"

"I'm afraid not, Sabel. For ponygirls."

Sabel squirmed and gasped, trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep in a stall. It couldn't be worse than scrubbing floors and being scolded when somebody dirtied them with muddy shoes. And what the teacher had said about being shown affection hit a sensitive chord in her youthful soul. Miss Cathy smiled: it was obvious that the ebony's mind was racing. She focused her eyes on Sabel's neck. What kind of collar would suit that lovely dark skin? Something red, or green, matching her harness. Not too wide, perhaps with studs on...

Cathy sighed. She would do all that was in her power to ensure that the plate on the front of that collar read –Sabel, property of Catherine Magnusson.

"Those who are not selected to serve the most respected members of our society will be distributed to taxi companies and will do a nice job transporting people where they have to go, or will be used as delivery animals, taking merchandise where it has to go."

Robin was so shocked by that word that she said aloud:

"Wow! Deliveryanimals?"

Cathy evaluated in a heartbeat the mulatto girl: beaming with health and youthful energy, once she learned to hold her tongue and obey the reins she would make a perfect delivery animal.

"Robin, pay close attention to what I will say now. In the Old Order, horses and oxen did all the pulling, and many poor people never ate meat. The New State uses oxen for what they were made for, namely to give meat for humans, including you, I suppose. Horses are extinct in our lands. Now what is wrong with callinganimalsthose who perform duties formerly reserved for animals? You should feel proud of being useful in any capacity that can help Auronia to prosper."

A pitch-black girl with a high forehead and wide hips raised her hand.

"And when you grow weak and cannot pull anybody, Miss Cathy?"

The teacher shook her head.

"A ponygirl can work until she is fifty or more, Desiree. When you grow old, you are assigned to lighter duties. Like pulling children to school or in the parks."

Desiree raised her hand again.

"And when can we have children?"

"After the first three years of service, depending on what your owner decides."

Cathy licked her lips, wondering what that glowing black skin would taste like, and looked at her watch: the class was almost over. There was no time to speak about collars and other items; that would have to wait until the next day. Her eyes wandered to the African beauty on the front row: she was the sexiest candidate she had met with in all her years as a pony instructor. There was something Cathy needed to know, though: how would she react to a little show of authority?

"Come forward, Sabel."

The ebony sprang to her feet and moved up to the desk.

"Put your arms behind your back."

Cathy raised her crop and began to tease those perfect nipples, watching keenly as they grew taller and taller. "Oh my God, and she has not taken the pill yet..." she muttered to herself.

Sabel was amazed to discover that the touch of the hard leather was not disagreeable. It was a new sensation, that was all – and Miss Cathy did it so well, caressing the sensitive tip of the nipple, then brushing it on its sides and going to the other breast. Sabel noticed that her slit was getting moist and looked alarmed at Miss Cathy. At that precise moment, the bell sounded, marking the end of the class. The girls gathered their tops and put them on. Sabel was a bit anxious – Robin and Charra were already at the door, Miss Cathy kept teasing her – for how long? Wouldn't she be allowed to go with her friends?

Cathy watched the girl's reactions. Nervousness was natural under the circumstances, and also the sexual response. But she wanted to check: was Sabel going to ask to be released? Or would she stand there and let her black berries be teased until the teacher decided to stop? After all, the class was over and technically she had no right to keep her there.

Sabel was enjoying the unrelenting caress, and in an involuntary movement stuck out her chest, offering her body to the blonde lady. She was getting quite aroused and it was difficult not to moan; soon it would show on her white shorts – the last thing she wanted was a damp spot between her legs. She prayed that Robin and Charra would wait for her. And the teacher kept brushing that devilish thing on her nipples...

"Miss Ca..."

The crop flicked on Sabel's naked shoulder.

"Don't speak before you are allowed to!"

The ebony lowered her eyes. Cathy grinned: the girl was visibly anxious to go, yet had complied with her silent command to stay. Not everything had to be said aloud, after all. She put the crop on the desk:

"Very good, Sabel. You have just shown that you can be obedient. I am pleased to say that I saw right when I recommended you for this course."

Sabel's eyes grew wide. How did Miss Cathy know her? She had never seen the blonde teacher before. She opened her mouth to ask, but closed it again. No flicks of that crop on her shoulder, if they could be avoided!

"I go often to the park where you jog and recognized your photograph on the application form. And I had seen you once or twice scrubbing the floor of the ladies' toilet in the government building. You can become a fine ponygirl, Sabel, and be the pride of your owner."

Cathy paused for a moment, waiting to see if the girl would go to her seat and fetch her top without her saying so. But Sabel stayed still, her almond-shaped eyes fixed on the teacher's boots. The teacher had to bite her lip not to show her satisfaction:

"You may go now."

Sabel fetched her bag and slowly walked out of the classroom, stunned by that mysterious woman's words. Never during the nineteen years of her existence had she been told that she could become anybody's "pride". And coming from such a severe person, that praise sounded very sweet.

Cathy followed the ebony with her eyes, appreciating the natural elegance of her gait. "Yes, something green", she thought as she fastened the silver clip on her vest.