"Poor little boy-" I blushed "-didn't do your research huh? The control nanites they injected you with are reinforcing slave behaviors, making you eager to please. It's legal under the slavery laws here, but if you're not prepared for it, it can be a rough ride. Addictive, too. This is my tenth go. I set very specific terms, but I always get bought."
"Your tenth time, miss? What keeps you coming back?"
"I love dominant women! I love it when they tie me down, spread my legs, take me hard with a strapon. When I can't say no. I love having my naughty bottom spanked in public. Being made to eat the pussy of a woman a third of my age. But not all the time. It's sort of a birthday present to myself, once every few years."
"Wow," I said.
Pearl had a presence to her, a self-assurance that I had rarely ever seen before. She told me about her life. She was an executive in an important company, expected to lead, to show others the way. That was fine as it went, but it meant she rarely got to be all of her true self. Her little holidays in slavery were her compensation. They kept her balanced.
The other girl spoke up, "I'm going to be a ponygirl!" she exclaimed. "They had some at my finishing school and I and a girlfriend tried it out for a few hours once after dark. I loved it so much! It's all an adventure, you see? After six months of ponygirl then I go to university. Mummy has a friend who's a trainer. She's going to come and buy out my contract." I wondered why they hadn't already collected her, but she went on, "But that's after I've had basic training, though. They say I have to be ready first. I don't know much about being a slave."
"What's your name, miss?" I asked.
"I'm Desiderata Espera," she replied, "or Slave DE-F-4." The number was her relative breast size; smaller than Pearl's but perkier and with exceptional little pink nipples. "I want to be called something else though. Like Golden Girl or Bright Spark. You know, a ponygirl name." I nodded. She was certainly sparky.
Three of the males I spoke to had much the same situation as me. They needed some money and had to clear debts, fast. They planned to serve for three months to a year. All had been made younger, just like me. Two were bi, one was straight. It seemed like we were all hoping to be sex slaves; the tallest of them wanted to be a maid, too. I tried to imagine him in the black mini-dress – he had the winsome bone structure for it.
The fourth male simply barked. Pearl cut in, "He's going to be a pet male, you see. Two-year term. They already did his vocal cords – unlike Desiderata, he's done this before so they can skip some training steps. Between you and me, I'd be surprised if he didn't extend indefinitely." The soon-to-be-pet male woofed and lolled out his tongue. He was clearly happy to have lost his human voice.
The last of the five other males spoke up then, "I'm Slave AF-M-4. I'm forgetting my given name; I'd like my new owner to name me if she desires. I'm a slave. I'm your age, but real: eighteen a few days ago. I left my group home and came straight here."
I gave the assured young slave a nod of respect. I envied him his certainty.
"How long?" I asked, wanting to confirm a suspicion.
"Ten years, brother," he answered. "You know it's the legal maximum for a first-timer?" I nodded. "They put me through a full psychological evaluation over the last few days, just to make sure I knew what I was doing. But I've always known I'm a slave. I'm meant to be owned; I was created to belong to a woman. As soon as the ten years are up, I'll do another ten. Then I can be permanently enslaved."
"This one's a real virgin," said Pearl, roving over his body with her eyes. "You know, anal and all the other things. So he's going to be very expensive indeed. It's a ten-year contract so they'll put the money in trust, but you just know he'll never claim it. It'll go to the state; helps fund places like this."
"I wonder if the trainers will take my virginity?" asked the boy.
"Not likely," said Pearl, "they'll want to keep you nice and pure. Obedience and service training only, I'd think."
"In any case," he replied, "I'll submit." His body radiated calm.
We spent a while then talking about what kind of slaves we wanted to be, how we'd ended up where we were, our hopes for the future. The redhead ponygirl had "slave for life" written all over her, but I hadn't the heart to tell her. I wondered if she would train well as a ponygirl, winning shows or races, or whether she'd end up someone's hobby, somewhere between a ponygirl and a live-in pet. She certainly had the drive to succeed.
An hour later, the new slave girl came in, led on a leash by the doctor. "Slaves," said the doctor, "this is Maya Smith or Slave MS-F-2. Introduce yourself, slavegirl."
"Um... hello, er fellow slaves. My name is Maya. I'm a trainee priestess in the Temple of Matriarchy. I'm doing my year's pilgrimage as a slave, to see if I want to become a slave-priestess or a domme-priestess. I've not been modified much beyond the collar and cuffs – it's not allowed for priestesses. But don't let that put you off me. I'm as much a slave as you are."
"Well, Maya, no need to sit down. Slaves, cuffs – release. And stand to attention."
Each of our cuffs was released from behind our backs. We stood with legs apart and hands behind backs; ramrod straight and ready to serve.
"You will now be transported to our training facility on the edge of the city. I will leash each of you and lead you to the transport truck, which is parked in front of the building. You, a pet male, crawl on all fours. The rest on two legs, after me quickly now. I want to get you there before dark."