Silvia’s birthday was coming up fast—and it was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Not only would she get a day off from learning for her exams, but she also would fulfil her dearest wish.

Normally, she didn’t make such a fuss about it, but this time, she wanted to celebrate. She was finally turning twenty. Her nineteenth birthday had been overshadowed by Nancy’s slaughter and everything that had followed. It had just been a normal day of scrubbing slaughter rooms. Dad had made dinner, but he knew Silvia wasn’t in the right headspace.

This year, she wanted things to be different. She had a bigger family—two sisters, a mum, a dad, her lovers... and hopefully her spouses.

The party would be a bit awkward—Pamela had not come back that last week and was still digesting her reality check at the Processing Centre. From her own experience, Silvia knew it took time to digest that milestone. And that was good. It needed to be ingested, chewed, and digested. Silvia had hoped Pamela would have finished processing it before her birthday, but she hadn’t. It would be awkward. Silvia wanted to propose to her lovers. To ask them to marry her. The only gift she wanted was a yes... well, two, actually.

She was a bit nervous, and her thoughts tumbled around like socks in a washing machine. And the closer she, Gill, and Donny came to Dad’s house, the worse it got.

Helena had made a big deal out of her birthday and had decorated the house, and to her surprise, Alexandra was there too. Silvia liked that. She knew Hels and Alex had a close bond, and she liked that. The bigger her family, the better. Silvia really liked the idea, and she would want to bring a baby into her family as well—but first, she would have to sit her exams... and before that, ask them. She really was nervous.

As soon as they arrived, she saw Pamela, and she winked at her. Relief flooded Silvia. Pamela was fine, and from the look of it, she had finished digesting. Silvia only wondered what she had decided. But she didn’t need to wonder for long. As soon as everyone was in the house, Pamela spoke up.

“Okay, listen up,” Pamela said suddenly, standing and drawing everyone’s attention. “I’ve decided to become a Girl Butcher, just like my mum and my big sis.”

Pen turned sharply toward her, staring. “So that’s what you’ve been up to. I knew you were hiding something! I thought you’d finally got over your boys-only bullshit and didn’t want to admit it.” She sounded a little upset that her twin sister had kept a secret from her.

“Well, yes. Sorry, Pen. I’ve been working at Mum’s facility for a while now, and I haven’t told you. I’m sorry. I wanted to be sure first. But now I am.”

Silvia looked at Helena, who simply met her gaze and raised an eyebrow but passed the baton to Alexandra.

“So, Pamela. Are you prepared to kill? Could you kill Silvia? Kill your sister?” Alexandra asked coldly.

Pen gasped. “Kill? Me?”

Pamela took her sister’s hand. “What they’re asking is if I would be prepared to take your life if it was needed. If I could do it.” She looked back at Alexandra and Helena. “Yes, I could. If my sister trusted me with her life, I would take it and make sure she felt loved and safe in her last moments.”

She paused. “I’ve been thinking about it—if I’m ready to kill. But that isn’t actually the question. The question is: Am I ready to learn how to take a life responsibly? And the answer is: I’m not.”

Stunned silence. “But I’m ready to learn it.”

Alexandra and Helena looked at each other. There was a lightning-fast, wordless dialogue between them until Helena breathed in.

Helena went to her bag, took out a secure tablet, and handed it to Pamela. But before Pamela could take it, Helena said, “I’m as proud as I am sad. Proud you’re my daughter, but sad you chose this path. I wished for you to find happiness.”

Mum,” Pamela said warmly, taking the tablet. “I will find happiness. I promise I will. Trust me.”

Her mother touched her arm gently, but Helena said, “Sign. Starting tomorrow at 08:30, you officially begin. You don’t need to finish University Prep-school.”

“No,” Pamela replied, pausing with her finger over the tablet and looking her mother in the eyes. “I thought about that too, and that took me longer to figure out. I want to finish school. I can do evening classes for the rest. I want to do that. Have more possibilities,” Pamela said, and then pressed her finger onto the document, signing her apprenticeship contract.

Helena beamed with pride.

Silvia’s dad groaned, and Helena turned to him. “Pam, I think your dad isn’t happy.”

Her dad looked at Penelope. “Pen... you...?”

Penelope laughed. “No, don’t worry. I’m going to be a doctor. I’m already looking into it. But I’m okay with Pam being a Girl Butcher like Mum and Big Sis.” She squeezed Pamela’s hand. “And yes, I would trust you with my life. To feel safe and loved with you. But I’d prefer Mum to do it.”

“I’d prefer Mum too,” Pamela said, smiling back at Pen.

“Okay... so now, while we’re at revelations,” Donny said loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to him.

He smiled, took something from his pocket, and held Gill’s hand as she slowly sank to one knee. Then he dropped to one knee himself. Silvia’s heart beat double-time, and a wide smile carved itself across her face.

“Silvia, we’d like to ask you to marry us,” Donny said, while Gill opened the box to reveal a ring with three small diamonds. “To be the mother of our child. To share your life with us.”

Silvia almost shouted, “Yes! I want... but...” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a box containing two rings. “I wanted to ask you, too,” she said sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby. My knees don’t like this anyway. Help me up... wife,” Gill said, smiling.

Silvia helped her heavily pregnant wife up and then sank down to one knee in front of them. “I want to be your wife. I want to be a mother of our baby, and I want to bring a baby into our family too. Please marry me.”

Donny stood up as well. “Very demanding,” he teased, but he was smiling.

Gill swatted him playfully. “Shut up and say yes to your new wife. I do, baby. I want you to be my wife. I want you to share our life with us.”

“Yes, I want that too,” Donny finally said.

There were hugs and congratulations all around, and after a while, everyone settled down to enjoy the best birthday dinner ever.

That evening, they made love slowly, gently, without hurry. But the absolute bliss was waking up with her wife halfway across her body and her husband holding her in his arms, feeling their warmth and their love.

When Silvia showed up at the facility the next day, Pamela and Helena were already at work. Pamela was cleaning out intestines for sausage casings and looked happy to have a new task—one step closer to becoming a real Girl Butcher, even if it was the smelliest job they had.

Silvia was still riding the high from yesterday and couldn’t stop smiling. All the staff congratulated her, and Anne immediately started pestering her about her hen’s night. If it were up to Anne, it would be a full-on fuck fest—but thankfully, Alexandra came to her rescue.

“Leave her alone, Anne. She needs to concentrate on her exams. Wedding after.”

“I get married first anyway,” Helena insisted.

They hadn’t really thought about the logistics of it. Mum’s wedding. Her own exam. The baby. Her marriage. The thought made her smile. They’d need to talk about it. Plan it. But still—she was going to be married!

“You can wear that smile until we go into prep,” Alexandra commented. “The clients won’t appreciate it.”

Sadly, that was true. This was not a workplace that encouraged happiness.

“We have a slow hanging tomorrow,” Alexandra continued, already drilling her for her exam. “I need you to sit down and calculate the values—maximum time in the air. I want you to think about how you’d handle her safe word, and what to do if she does use it.”

“Pamela will help you with the setup tomorrow,” Helena added. “Take her with you from now on for everything prep-related. I want you focused on getting everything ready. Alexandra and I will check your work and tell you where you messed up.” She smiled sweetly.

After the morning clients, the whole team met for lunch, and Pamela was included for the first time.

“Oh... Pam... seriously. You need to scrub more after you’ve done intestines,” Ramona said, holding her nose.

Pamela sniffed herself. Anne added, “Yes. Sit over there. Downwind.”

“But... I can’t smell anything! I scrubbed. Really hard,” Pamela replied.

“Your olfactory receptors get overloaded and then you can’t smell yourself anymore. Here, use this.” Alex handed her a small pot of cream. “Smear it on your nose. It’ll help.”

Pamela took the cream and rubbed it into and under her nose. “Okay... I can smell—fuck—oh that—what the fuck!”

Everyone dissolved into laughter as Pamela tried to get the chilli-infused cream off her nose, only making it worse. Silvia laughed too—at least Pamela had only put it on her nose. Alex had convinced her, when they were all in the changing and shower room, that it was a special cream for her pussy. It had been hellish.

“Welcome to the team, Pamela,” Helena laughed. “Just hold still. It’s over in less than five minutes.”

As much as Pamela was in agony, it was evident that she also felt accepted now as part of the team. Especially when Anne told her where Silvia had used the cream.

That evening, Gill, Donny, and Silvia sat down and discussed the timeline. Gill’s baby — their baby — was due in a month. Silvia’s exam was scheduled in a bit less than three months.

Gill took her hand. “I’m worried,” she said. “I’m worried what killing women will do to you.”

Silvia nodded, but Donny shook his head. “Gill, your wife is strong. She’s been dealing with death for a long time now.”

“No, Donny, I’m a bit worried too,” Silvia admitted. “I won’t crack. I know that. But I’ve never killed anything. What if I mess up and make her suffer? What if I like it?”

“We’ll be there for you,” Donny assured her. “You won’t be alone. We are a family. Remember you wanted to marry us?”

Sivia only smirked.

Gill squeezed her hand. “As much as it horrifies me that you have to kill... if I were still in the Lottery... I would come to you. Like Pam said, I trust you with my life and my death.”

Silvia bit her lip, trying to hold it together. They sat in silence for a moment until Gill broke it.

“The baby’s due in about a month. I want you to be married to us before then,” Gill insisted, and Donny nodded. “Yes. It shouldn’t be a bastard,” he added, deadpan.

Gill groaned, and Silvia rolled her eyes. “Yes, honey, you were right—his humour... why am I marrying you again?”

Donny swooped her up, placed her on the kitchen counter, pulled her pants down, and helped her remember—while Gill giggled happily.

They decided on a quick marriage; Gill was pushing hard, and neither Silvia nor Donny had the stomach to fight their wife on that. Helena wasn’t happy at all. “Seriously. I wanted to be first. I wanted to be the mother of the bride.”

Gill intervened. “But you will be! My mother insists you organise this one. And I want to be married before giving birth.” What Silvia knew, and nobody else did, was that Gill was afraid something might happen during or after childbirth. She needed Silvia to be the baby’s mother before then.

It was the most magical day Silvia had ever had. She had a white dress, flowers, and her dad walked her down the aisle towards her two spouses. Donny grinned like a maniac in an amazing tux, and Gill looked relieved and happy in her heavily altered old white dress. Her hand over her baby belly. Pamela and Pen were her bridesmaids.

The civil ceremony was short and sweet. Silvia was glowing and so happy. She was a married woman, soon a mother, and maybe pregnant herself one day too. Whatever happened, nobody would be able to take this away from her. She had a loving family, and that was all she actually ever wanted.

They decided to take a proper honeymoon at some later stage. Just nobody knew when. After Gill’s baby? When Silvia still needed to study for her exam? After Silvia’s exam? When all three had to look after a baby? They planned for a few days off before Gill’s due date, but that never happened.

Silvia was just cutting a virgin Cunt out, concentrating hard to get the most and best out of it. Just like Helena, Silvia thought this virgin business was bullshit. She had tasted virgin Cunt, and it tasted the same as normal Cunt—well, almost. Virgin Cunt had mostly less developed Cunt muscles, because they hadn’t been used. It was all total bullshit in her opinion. But the market was there, and if someone wanted to pay a fortune for a virgin Cunt, so be it.

However, every young woman that came to her for consultation, she advised to get laid—and a lot. Their life would be over; might as well enjoy what was left of it as much as possible. It also helped them to get lost in their last orgasm, and that was all that mattered.

This was a difficult cut. Way too scrawny, but Silvia would be damned if she would waste one gram of this brave woman. She ground through it and slowly freed her Cunt from her body. Alexandra was watching her technique.

There was a blinking LED above the hidden emergency escape door, meaning some kind of emergency was happening and needed their attention.

“Finish the Cunt. You're almost there. Take the ovaries as well. It’s a new trend. I’ll check what’s going on.” Alexandra moved to the door and opened it with her badge.

Anne was there and talking fast and urgently. Alexandra turned to Silvia. “Silvia, forget the Cunt. I’ll finish this. Go. Gill is in labour.”

Silvia froze. “That’s... that’s three weeks too early.”

“Move, Silvia. Go. You need to be with your spouses. I’ll finish her. Go.”

Alexandra more or less pushed Silvia out of the slaughter room. Anne took over and dragged her into the shower room, and Helena came running with fresh clothes.

“I’ll drive you. “Hop in. Shower. Get clean.”

Silvia finally shook herself out of the shock and got into the shower. She hurried up, Helena pushing her along.

“Is she OK? Is the baby OK?” Silvia asked in the car.

Helena shrugged her shoulders. “Donny called and said she is in labour and needs her wife. That’s all I know. She’ll be fine. She’s not the first woman to give birth.”

That didn’t make Silvia any less anxious. Three weeks early.

They finally arrived at the hospital, and Silvia sprinted out of the car and went in search of her spouses.

Gill was in agony. “Where the fuck have you been? Ahhh Fuuuuuuuck.”

Donny was holding her hand. “She refused an epidural before you arrived.”

“What the fuck, Gill? Get the fucking epidural now,” Silvia shouted at her wife.

“Stop shouting. Listen—ah, fuck!” She breathed rhythmically as they had learned in pregnancy class. “If it’s a girl and she gets her Letter... you will take care of her. Promise. Promise me now. Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Silvia was stunned. Would she—could she—slaughter her own daughter? For a second, the Processing Centre flashed through her mind.

“Yes. Gill, I promise. I will be the one. Now get the fucking epidural, wife!”

The nurse next to her shook her head. “Too late. We will have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Silvia, you stupid cow... this is all your fucking fault—ah—for fuck sake...”

Gill cursed worse than Silvia had ever heard anyone curse. Donny smirked, and that refocused their wife’s words. “What are you grinning—ahgrrrr—it’s your fucking sperm...”

Silvia let her wife crush her hand while Donny breathed with her.

“I love you. It’s going to be all right, Gill. Come on, honey — push!”

Max was born three weeks early, but he was a strong and healthy baby, and after only a week, mother and son could come home. The whole family welcomed him. Gill was over the moon, as was Silvia. Their first child.

So much had changed in such a short time. They were struggling. Max had come early, and they were behind on the planning. During the week Gill was in the hospital recovering, Silvia and Donny scrambled to finish the extra room and get everything they needed for a newborn.

When they brought their wife home, all four settled into bed. But only for about four and a half minutes before Max made it clear he needed food.

While Gill was breastfeeding him, she sighed.

“I love him. But the next one is yours. I’m not doing that again anytime soon.”

Silvia sat outside the office under one of the trees on the lawn, cramming for her exam next week. At home, Gill was dealing with Max, Donny was back at work, and, as much as Silvia loved them, she needed to concentrate.

She felt anxious. It was easier to focus here than at the coffee table inside. She would have preferred the cliff, but the wind made studying impossible. At least here, she could spread out multiple books and cross-reference them easily. Helena had told her she was going too deep—it was only a Journeywoman exam, not a Master’s—but Silvia was nervous, and studying helped.

She was currently deep into identifying cancerous organs and other signs of diseased meat. Cross-referencing between humans and animals. It wasn’t easy, but in her mind, it was essential.

“Excuse me.” A young voice disturbed her. Silvia looked up and saw two young Asian women looking down on her. They smiled.

“Do you work here?”

Silvia had become much more careful about admitting to her profession. The backlash came in different forms, and she had already experienced a few. The latest had been from the mum group she had tried to join with Gill. Enough to have learned to be careful.

“What do you want to know about them?”

“My name is Yuki, and I have received my Letter. I have heard that I would be able to face my death here according to my wishes,” one of them said, bowing slightly.

Silvia scrambled up. “Sorry. Yes, we do customisations. How can I help you?”

“Are you a Girl Butcher?” the other one asked, surprised. They both must have been at least three years older than her.

“Apprentice Girl Butcher. But I can help you make a booking if you like. If you prefer to speak to someone more senior, come in. Just let me get my books.”

“I help you. I’m Sakura.” The second woman knelt and started to pick them up, looking at the drawings.

Silvia brought them into the small conference room that was set aside for consultations. Ramona went and fetched Helena, who was currently battling through the accounting books. Helena would be happy to do anything else. Silvia was very happy that learning bookkeeping was something she didn’t need to learn... yet.

Helena came, and Silvia made the introductions. She had already confirmed that Yuki’s Letter gave her until Monday to be slaughtered. They had a few days.

“Yuki would like to customise,” Silvia summarised at the end.

“Certainly. How would you like to be slaughtered?” asked Helena. It was important to make sure they understood that this was still a process to convert them to food.

“I would humbly ask for permission to keep the ancient traditions of our ancestral homeland. We immigrated here, and we understand that livestock has to be slaughtered in a Processing Centre behind closed doors, away from the public eye. But we heard that there are private facilities like yours that would allow me to die the way I want.”

Immigrants? That was rare. They must have travelled a long way by sailing ship to come here. Silvia had always admired the determination that it took to leave your home and settle in a new land, a new culture.

“Hmmm... Except for a few very old films that survived, I don’t know much about Japanese culture. Especially not what it is now.”

Yuki smiled. “They have not changed much, and at the same time fully. Their birth rates were low even before the Plague. But now they face extinction. The current policy is to create as many babies as possible and... select for males. Women have little value. This is why our father took us here. We are free of this.”

Silvia had to say it. “I’m sorry that you cannot live your full life after coming all the way.”

Yuki still smiled. It was nice, and it wasn’t forced either—Silvia could tell by now. Alex had rubbed off on her.

“I do not feel this way. I’m part of this society now. I am treated as every other woman. This is good. I was selected as a woman of this society. I feel blessed I’m able to contribute. Contribute to my society, to my sister, to my family.”

Helena bowed. “Thank you for contributing to a better tomorrow.” As cliché as this phrase was, when Helena said it, everyone could feel what she was saying.

Both women bowed. “Thank you for accepting my sacrifice,” Yuki said.

“Yuki,” Helena said. “How can we help you? How would you like to end your life?”

Yuki looked at Sakura, who continued. “My sister wishes to perform seppuku—our traditional ancient way. It means she takes the first step herself, and someone she trusts completes it. It’s about facing death with honour.”

Helena nodded. “I need a bit more. Silvia here is our apprentice and wants to pass her exams. She should know all the laws and regulations. Let’s see if she remembers them all. Is that OK for you?”

Sakura smirked. “I learned no differently. My Master in the old country drilled me the same. But I was not able to choose my profession; As a woman I was assigned one.” She bowed quickly. “Sorry. Enough selfishness.”

Assigned? How did that make any sense?

Sakura turned to Silvia. “My sister would wear a white kimono—”

“She has to be naked,” Silvia interrupted. “Ah, sorry. Go on.” Silvia felt stupid. “Sorry.”

Yuki nodded, and Sakura just smiled. “That is fine. She then would take a knife and open her belly. If she can, she will show her stamina and dedication by... emptying it.”

Silvia had to force her jaw shut. She would gut herself? Herself?

The regulations started flooding her brain—and she knew that might not be possible.

“And then,” Sakura continued calmly, “her second would use a sword to take her head.”

“I would like my second to be my sister,” Yuki said quietly. “She is skilled. Our father trained us both with the sword, since he had no son.”

Helena nodded and turned to Silvia. “So?”

Silvia held up one finger, eyes unfocused as she swam through memory.

Rule 9.2, 14.4... wait... food safety protocols...

Silvia forced herself to stem the flood of regulations and puzzle out a path through them.

It took a moment. “The rules do not say she can’t take her own life. It’s not forbidden. The regulations say she has to comply with food-safety requirements. As long as she is naked, washed, cleaned, and in a regulated slaughter room, that’s fine.”

Now it came to the hard part.

“But the law states that only an accredited butcher can take a life, so Sakura cannot behead her. And in theory, it also means that she can’t take her own life.” Silvia also cited the relevant passages and paragraphs.

She could see how this impacted Yuki.

“But...” Silvia continued, “as long as the opening of the belly doesn’t kill her and doesn’t damage the intestines, it’s OK... I think. At least that would allow her to do the first part.”

She took a breath. “The real issue is 4.3. It says only registered butchers or livestock can enter the slaughter room. That’s why Anne must stay outside during handover, and Sakura isn’t allowed inside. That’s why we have the glass wall between the slaughter room and the viewing gallery—they’re separate legal spaces.”

Helena nodded. “Not bad. But what about 17.5c?”

Silvia tried to recall that one.

“Quote it,” Helena commanded, and her memory obeyed.

“Regulation 17.5c of the Human Population Control Act,” Silvia recited. “Butchers are responsible for ensuring that any individual scheduled for slaughter does not inflict significant injury upon themselves after entry into a registered slaughter room.”

“So she can’t harm herself,” Helena stated flatly.

Silvia nodded... then paused. She could feel there was something she had missed. She thought hard.

“It says significant injury. And the whole of 17.5 concerns itself only with food safety and quality control. So—if she keeps the cut shallow, avoids the intestines, and doesn’t puncture anything vital, we’re fine. The intestines are the real risk. But as long as she’s fasted and clean, we can flush the cavity later.”

Finally, Silvia understood why she needed to know all these rules by heart.

Not only to follow them—but to be able to bend them.

Not break. Bend.

“Very good. Very good.” Helena’s grin was full of pride, and it warmed Silvia’s heart to see her mother and Master proud of her.

Sakura leaned in. “So what does that mean for my sister?”

Helena smiled. “It means Silvia’s answers are exactly what I’d expect from a Journeywoman.” Then her smile became more like a shark’s. “But a Master is different. It’s my slaughter room. A woman goes in, and meat comes out. What happens in between? That’s my responsibility.”

“But 4.3. The security sensors. The birth chip scans. Sakura would only be allowed in during a slaughter if she is registered as a Butcher or as livestock,” Silvia stated.

“If my sister—” Sakura started.

“No,” said Yuki firmly. “I do not allow this. You will not volunteer.”

Sakura just nodded.

Helena grinned even more. “About Regulation 4.3... Sakura, you didn’t sound like you enjoyed your current profession...?

“You can’t be serious!” Silvia almost shouted, having puzzled it out.

“Why not? She can cancel the apprenticeship contract with two weeks’ notice. Or I just fire her. The burden of proof would be on the HPCC, and they are currently very occupied with other things.”

Helena turned to Sakura. “But you would have to start working today. That would be the only way I can see this working.”

Sakura blinked, looking at her sister. “That would... work. I was trained as a...” She left the word out, but continued. “Here, I do data analysis. I sit all day. I want real work. I want to feel my body.”

Silvia scoffed. “How about cleaning?”

Sakura shrugged her shoulders. “If that’s what is required, and I can make my sister’s death meaningful, I will not hesitate.”

Yuki smiled and nodded. “You said there are viewing galleries. I would want my death to be witnessed by this society. Seen that I contributed as everyone else... if this is permissible.”

Helena nodded, understanding. “I understand that, but not too public. We still have to keep it under wraps. Your family and ours?”

Yuki beamed and bowed. “That would be an honour. If it is permissible, I would like to share my body with all of them.”

They discussed some more details. When Yuki left, Silvia showed the new temporary apprentice, Sakura, how to clean a slaughter room.

Silvia was very impressed with Sakura’s work ethic. She really went for it—cleaning, scrubbing, with an intensity and focus Silvia hadn’t seen before.

“Sakura, can I ask you something?”

She nodded, still scrubbing a spreader bar. The woman who had occupied it had squirted as she came. It was messy, but Sakura didn’t seem to care what she cleaned away—only that it was clean.

“How come you and Yuki are so unafraid to die? Don’t get me wrong,” Silvia added quickly, “I’m not afraid, not really. I just don’t want to die. I’d be sad to lose my life—especially now that I’ve finally found some happiness—but... most women are scared. At least a little.”

Sakura didn’t stop cleaning. “Death is part of life. Without death, what value has life? If life never ended... wouldn’t you crave death? Why be afraid? Why waste time on it?”

That stopped Silvia cold. The logic was so simple, so clear. Such a different perspective.

“So you’re looking forward to your death?”

“No. I want to live. I want to experience life. But I don’t fear death. If it happens, it happens. What control do I have?” She paused, studying the spreader bar, moving it around and finding a spot she hadn’t cleaned. “In the society we left behind, women have no value beyond their bodies. A body that cannot produce a baby or cannot please a man’s desire is only worth its meat. From the first bleed to the last. That is the truth we are raised with.”

“Fuck... That’s... I had no idea. I’ve never heard how other societies handle population control. Our system seemed harsh, but... this...”

Sakura smiled faintly. “People do what they must to survive. Values follow need. I was shocked when I arrived. That I could choose who could have sex with me. That I could say no to a man. That I saw women past forty. That slaughter happens behind walls. That the women are not publicly slaughtered to at least acknowledge them for what they give.”

“Hold on a second. Are you telling me that rape is common? That they kill only old women? And publicly?” Silvia gaped.

Sakura nodded. “It is rape only if it is against the will of a woman. A woman in their society has no will other than to serve the male will of the society. So for them, it is not rape. The same with old women—they have no value. They cannot produce a baby and are sexually not desirable. They have no purpose anymore beyond their meat. The slaughter is public. So that their death at least is entertaining for the males. Once a week, those selected come and are killed and shared. Young women have to execute the selected women, depending on how the males like to see them die. After that they have to take their bodies apart as best as they can and then cook them. Yuki had to do this to our mother. I had to do it to others.”

Silvia could not fathom this. How could a society fall so far? She had felt that their system of dealing with overpopulation was harsh on the women, but this? This was too much!

“But... but... that’s barbaric!” Silvia exclaimed.

Sakura chuckled—the first reaction from her that wasn’t measured. “To you, perhaps. You grew up here. For me, it’s barbaric that the death of a woman and the meat of her must be hidden away. That only young women are slaughtered for their meat. That you eat their Cunts.”

That gave Silvia pause. Yes, eating Cunt was normal, if you could afford it, and Gill did an amazing version of stuffed Cunt. For her, it was just another cut, a difficult one for sure, but nothing special. She could see how societies formed different cultures and acceptance.

“I’m sorry. It’s very different,” Silvia said. “If Yuki doesn’t want her Cunt eaten, she should let us know. We’ll respect that.”

“Thanks for being thoughtful. It is strange for me that a woman would care about another woman’s slaughter. I was taught that valueless women need to be discarded.” She stopped cleaning, and that was rare.

“Here you care, and it is strange, but I appreciate it. We will follow the local customs here. We arrived two years ago. We have not eaten Cunt yet, but it is our responsibility to adapt to this society, not it to us.” Sakura grinned. “A Cunt here is a specialty, a treat. There, it was thrown away as used up and without any purpose anymore. Here, Cunts have value. Yuki would want to be like any other woman. Each part of her valued.”

“My wife does an amazing stuffed Cunt. I normally don’t like it, but when she does, I like it a lot. I would never throw anything of any woman away as worthless. That’s just... wrong,” Silvia mused.

Sakura clearly wanted to say something.

“Sakura, just say whatever is on your mind. Please. “I prefer clear communication,” Silvia said gently.

“Do you think your wife... that’s so strange, sorry. Being married... and to a woman. Is it very different?”

So Silvia told her all about being married to Gill and Donny. And slowly, Sakura felt safe enough to ask more questions.

“I hope I do not overstep, but...” Sakura took a deep breath. “Do you think your wife would make stuffed Cunt out of Yuki? She would appreciate it—her Cunt being valuable.”

“Sure,” she said, but then realised that she would have to ask Gill first if she would come to Yuki’s slaughter. “But you have to ask your sister if that is what she wants.”

Sakura nodded. “It is strange to know that she can choose. She will appreciate it.”

They talked more until Sakura finished the room.

“Yeah, we’re done. You did an amazing job, really.”

That made her smile again.

“Honest. This felt good. We were not allowed to care. But being allowed to prepare the room for a woman’s death—it gives her value, so it gives me value.”

Silvia liked that. Really liked that. “You have a very different viewpoint. I like it. For me, the cleaning is like a meditation. I can relax. I take my value as a Butcher from making them feel loved and cared for in their last moments.”

Sakura blinked. “Feel loved and cared for.” She repeated the words, like she was trying them out for the first time. “Yes. I would want that. Yuki wants to die the traditional way. The way women are not permitted to die anymore. Die with honour.”

Die with honour. That was a very different concept. How did one die with honour?

“You and Master Helena took pains to make it possible. You even honour us by sharing her with your families. This is all so different.” Sakura turned directly to her and bowed. “Thank you for this. It is a great honour to our family.”

Silvia was not sure about all this. Everything Sakura had said felt strange. It would not let Silvia go. Her mind was trying to make sense of it.

Yuki wasn’t eager to die—Silvia understood that. Nobody was. But Yuki was oddly elated that she had been selected, seeing it as an honour to be slaughtered by a society she had migrated to. If she hadn’t migrated, she could have lived until she was forty, but in the meantime, she would have faced rape and constant childbirth until she was discarded as worthless.

What was better? She had lived here for two years. Her sister would very likely keep on living. It was extremely unlikely for both sisters to get a Letter.

Did Yuki give herself up for her sister? Probably. But... it was all so confusing to have clients so actively involved in their own slaughter.

Sure, some did—but most of them had some kinky fantasy they wanted fulfilled before it was all over.

Even on the drive back home, she could not let the thought go. What made more sense? To live long, or to die knowing you were valued?

Yesterday had been hard. Andrea still felt the branding on her butt cheek every time she moved, a throbbing reminder of what she had done. What irritated her the most was that she could swear she could still smell burned flesh.

She lay in her straw partly over Melissa’s naked body, her leg over hers, so she didn’t lie on her brand. Her hands were bound behind her back to her harness, her bridle on her head, and her bit in her mouth. Her tail was still in her, and that felt good. She had never slept with her tail before, but today, it felt good. Melissa was still sleeping soundly, and she enjoyed the warmth of her naked body next to her. Melissa's arms were around her, holding her in place, making her feel safe and loved.

The branding had not been the only emotional impact yesterday. It had only been the physical confirmation of her change. Andrea had, by willingly receiving Melissa’s brand, accepted to be a pony for now and forever. It was a permanent mark that could never be erased. A mark that showed she had stopped being the woman she had been. She was now a true pony, a mare, and she was proud of that.

The other thing that had happened and that had impacted her the most was her mother.

Directly after her branding, even before Melissa could lead her off to the pool and the promised ice cream, her mother and father intercepted them.

Andrea froze in her step, making Melissa stop and look. Her mother walked towards her, dressed as a rider in trousers, boots, and a short jacket, holding the lead of a stallion. Her eyes widened even more as she recognised the stallion. Her father as a pony! He was in a harness, a black leather bridle on his head, the bit in his mouth, a long black tail behind him, his balls and dick pushed through the harness ring and prominent on display. His hands were tied to the side of his harness, and he was wearing hoof gloves.

Andrea had seen enough ponies in their natural form, but still, this was her father, and she tried not to look at his genitals.

It wasn’t only that her father was a stallion and therefore naked. It was everything. Her parents standing here at the Farm, seeing what she had become, while she saw them for the first time as what they had always been: rider and stallion. It was too weird.

She hadn’t thought of her parents for a while and had forgotten that they would probably show up for her branding. Melissa sensed that her pony was in distress and instinctively placed herself between her, this rider, and her stallion. Andrea was able to breathe again when she felt her rider's hand on her flank, giving her strength and hold.

Her mother smiled, and even her father smiled as much as his bridle allowed it. “I’m so very proud of you, my Darling. You became such a very beautiful and strong Mare. Grandma sent best wishes, too. She couldn’t come, but you should go and see her.”

Andrea didn’t know what to do, so she hid behind Melissa and just stared back at her parents over her shoulder.

“You must be her rider,” her mother said to Melissa, holding out her hand as if it were the most natural thing to say in this situation.

Melissa replied, not shaking her hand but holding Andrea’s bridle. “Yes. I am. I’m Melissa.” She kept eye contact with Andrea’s mother but asked over her shoulder, “Gorgeous, do you want to see them?”

Her mother smirked, somehow pleased. “I understand it’s awkward, but it wasn’t much different when I branded your father. Your grandfather and grandmother came and congratulated us. We’re simply keeping the tradition alive.”

Melissa didn’t care. She still could sense Andrea’s skittishness. “That may be so. But if she doesn’t want to see you, she won’t. You have an issue. You deal with me.”

Melissa stated in a clear and almost threatening tone. They were not the only ones to get unexpected visitors.

Behind her, a massive and loud argument developed between Henry and George’s parents. Looking around, it looked like all their post-branding plans were hijacked by the ponies' respective parents.

Nobody had warned them, neither the ponies nor the riders. Maybe it was a Farm tradition, a final step in accepting their lives as ponies: standing in front of the people who had raised them, no longer as their offspring, but as proud, freshly branded ponies.

Julia’s and Maria’s parents were here too, and that was very different. Both Julia’s parents were ponies, so they couldn’t talk, but Julia had put her head against her mother’s breasts while her father touched flanks with her. In the meantime, their riders talked to Charles.

Maria was hugged by her father and her little sister. They seemed not in the slightest bothered by her nakedness or that she was a pony. Her father had tears in his eyes as he was hugging Penelope. Her sister was playing with Maria’s lead, and they both smiled. Her sister was as proud as her father.

If they could do it, she could do that. She was a mare. A lead mare. Her brand was still radiating pain, reminding her that she wanted to be here. Be a pony. Be Melissa’s pony. Her mother had said she would be all right, and she had been right. But that didn’t make it any easier for her to finally accept it. She took a deep breath and came out from behind Melissa. Her father smiled proudly at her and her mom was nodding approvingly. "I knew this was right for you. I know how hard training is, but are you happier now?"

Andrea nodded. She was much happier. Her father came and touched flanks, and it felt good to be acknowledged by him as a pony. She put her head against his bare chest, and it felt good, too. Her mother came forward too and took her in her arms properly. She couldn’t remember her mother ever being that ...motherly...it confused her a bit, but right now she just let herself sink into her embrace.

Her mother talked over her head while she held her.

So… are you going to marry my filly?” she said, challenging.

“Yes, I will. She is mine, and she is a mare...a lead mare. She wants to belong to me… and I belong to her.”

“Is that true?” she asked Andrea. Andrea pushed herself out of her arms and stood beside her rider and wife-to-be. She nodded, stomped and neighed.

Her father smiled as much as his bit allowed and hip-pushed her mother.

Her mother nodded, satisfied. “I’m happy for you both. I very much approve. I would like to invite you two over to our place soon so we can have a proper talk. I would like to get to know my daughter's future wife.”

Melissa was still defensive but nodded. “We will talk about that during our partner time, and then she will decide. It’s her decision.”

Andrea’s mother smiled proudly. “I like you. You are very good for her. Yes, it’s up to my filly.” She paused. Then, focused on Andrea, “Please talk to Grandma. She is sad she was not able to come, but she is so proud of you for becoming a mare. She would really like to see you…and your rider. She does not have many people she can talk to about this.”

Andrea nodded and looked at Melissa.

“Yes, we will, Gorgeous,” Melissa promised, and that was good.

Andrea would love to see her Granny. She hadn’t gone and visited her for a long time. She felt ashamed when her grades at university went south and stopped visiting. If Granny was proud of her for being a mare, Andrea would feel a bit better.

“Ok. We will leave you to yourselves. We will see you here from time to time, I guess.” Her mother waved them goodbye and pulled at her father's lead.

Well, that would be awkward. Andrea looked after them, unsure how to deal with her naked stallion father, who was being led around by her rider mother.

Then she smiled as she watched them walk away, her dad's tail swishing around as he walked. Her father looked happier as a pony. She had never seen him like that. Never seen him this content and relaxed. She only knew him coming home from his extremely stressful job, exhausted. He had always tried to make time for his family, but they all knew how tired he had been. A plastered-on smile on his face. This smile was genuine. Her mother guided him, and all decisions were taken from him; he was there to obey and let go. It must be a holiday for him. She remembered the weekends when her parents returned after a day out, and he truly was at ease.

He was a stallion, a pony just like she was, and that was that. She could do that.

“You're ok?” asked Melissa. Andrea nodded, put her head against her, and was patted. “That must have been hard. Come, let’s go for a drive. Take your mind off all this. Would that work for you?”

Andrea would like that. Just walking everything off, letting her brain reset and be just a pony. Ice cream didn’t feel right anymore… not right now…

Melissa drove them to the lake, letting her out of the sulky harness and into the lake.

Her brand hurt every time she moved her butt, but it started to subside as she got used to it, and the cold waters of the lake helped as well.

Melissa patted her affectionately, and Andrea put her head against her breasts. “I love you. I’m so proud you took my brand. I was a bit scared you would not turn up.”

Andrea touched cheeks with Melissa, and they stood silently together for a while until Andrea started to shiver in the cold water, and Melissa guided her out of the water.

While Melissa towelled her dry, Andrea hip pushed her several times. “What do you want?” she asked, irritated, but Andrea didn’t say a word. She was a pony, not a person. It was her rider's duty to figure her out.

Melissa wanted to put her back into the sulky harness, but Andrea didn’t cooperate.

Finally, Melissa dropped her tack and stood, arms akimbo. “Fine. What is it? You are stubborn, and I don’t think you like to feel the crop on your other arse cheek or your beautiful tits.”

No, she would not like that at all, especially not on her tits. She had gotten used to the crop on her arse, even the driving whip on her back, but not her tits.

“Thought so. So, let’s get back to your stable…. Ah, fuck a duck. Now I know.” Melissa slapped her forehead hard and then shook her head, giggling with mirth.

“I fell in love with an ice cream-obsessed pony. And I had promised. Fine. You're right. A rider’s word is binding. Hmm… you know what? We go back, and then we go out. I want to sit down with you properly and watch my beloved partner eat a big proper one while I drink a cappuccino. Let’s go.”

Andrea liked the idea of a big, nice one, and images of towering scoops of different flavours, surrounded by fruit, sprang into her mind. Andrea stopped being difficult, and they were on the drive back in no time. Melissa didn’t need to use the whip even once to make her go faster.

Melissa brushed her down before taking her up to her room and removing her bridle. “Hi, Gorgeous,” she said, as she always did when they entered Partner time.

“Hi, Melissa,” Andrea replied, took her hand and pulled her to the shower.

“Hey, wait, you are still in tack. You will get your tail wet,” Melissa protested.

“So what? It is a part of me, and I like it. I earned it.”

She provocatively swished her tail, a habit she had picked up from Julia, and it did a lot for Melissa. Especially if Andrea tossed her head with it and neighed. Andrea knew that, and she just did that.

They made out under the shower, her tail where it was supposed to be. Melissa kept her fresh brand out of the hot water and carefully dabbed it clean.

Andrea had become used to making love to Melissa as her pony and her partner. That was still strange if she thought about it too much. She had never been interested in women, but she liked making Melissa cum, liked when Melissa made her cum. Especially if Melissa kissed her or sucked on her nipples. She hadn’t been kissed by a man for Gods knows how long, and she didn’t remember it well, only that it was different. She liked Melissa kissing her; she was soft and demanding at the same time.

Andrea wasn’t sure what she was- a lesbian, bi, or....she was Melissa’s pony and wife-to-be. Just that. That was enough.

Melissa had, as always, laid out clothes for her, and Andrea slipped into them wordlessly. To finish off, she tied Melissa’s scarf into her hair to secure her ponytail.

Melissa gave her a small butt plug made from shiny metal. “Here, this should help you feel less naked. I know you miss your tail.”

Andrea smiled and turned around so Melissa could put it inside of her. But Melissa applied the burn cream first before inserting the plug into her asshole. Yes, it did feel better, but still, she missed the feeling of her tail brushing against her legs. But in public, that wasn’t possible.

The public had always made her tense. The need to show off, to project something she didn’t know really how. She had never liked that. Especially when she had to be the party girl, perform so she would fit in.

“I know you are only coming out with me because of the promise of ice cream, but it’s important that we get out together and join society. So, following today’s developments, I asked my parents to meet us at the ice parlour.”

Andrea stopped moving. Meet her parents? Her heart went faster.

“Relax. Don’t be so skittish. I met yours as rider and pony. Meeting mine in a normal setting should be much easier for you.”

“Have you ever seen your parents at the Farm?” Andrea asked curiously.

Melissa answered casually, “Of course. Kids are allowed at the Farm, under supervision and in the non-adult areas. I practically grew up around ponies. Dad used to take me driving with Mom, and sometimes he even let me handle her lead. Obviously, we weren’t around the adult training, but normal pony stuff? Sure.” She shrugged her shoulder while she got into her panties.

“I saw my grandparents at the Farm too, when they still came. They did a lot of dressage together. Grandma looked amazing even as old as she was; she loved showing off her leg work.”

That left Andrea staring at her. She had not seen any kids at the Farm and… well, except Maria’s little sister. She wondered if she would have grown up within the pony world, or at least known about it; would it have maybe been easier for her? Would she have wanted to become a pony?

Melissa looked sheepishly at her.

“Ah ...hmm, Andrea...it might have slipped my mind ...but...Eventually, we’re going to inherit my parents’ estate.”

A what? But Andrea was distracted as Melissa took her hand and pulled her along, excited.

They walked down to the garage and to a nice red open sports car.

The drive was hard and painful. Even with the burn cream's anaesthetic properties, it wasn’t pleasant for Andrea to sit on her brand.

Melissa looked over at her as tears fell down her cheeks. “Oh, I’m such a dumb arse. Sorry, Gorgeous. I didn’t think. That was stupid of me. You could have said something. Just be my strong pony now. We are almost there.”

Andrea whinnied softly under her tears. It was easier to be a pony right now. She was right. Melissa’s hand found hers, holding it, and that helped even more.

They arrived, and Andrea breathed a sigh of relief. Melissa came around the car and hugged her, using her hand to wipe away her tears. “You're such a brave pony. I’m so proud of you, and I’m sorry. But I need you to speak up. This is important. I need to be able to depend on you.”

Andrea could see that point. As a pony, she depended on her rider to give her the right instructions, and her rider depended on her pony to give her feedback on her confidence level. The same should apply to their partner time.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew she had been conditioned to submit, obey, and follow. But the truth was, she found it easier to submit, to obey and to follow... much easier. Not only easier, but she wanted to be dominated, commanded and led by Melissa.

Melissa stroked her arm. “It’s ok, Gorgeous. I know it’s not easy for you, but at least I want an ‘ouch’ or something. Please. You know I like to hurt you from time to time, but that should be intentional. You asked me to tell you when I want to hurt you, and I do. Now I ask you to tell me when you are hurting. Please, it’s important... for us.”

Andrea blew out. “Well…OK… Ouch. Now buy me my ice cream.” And she smirked at Melissa from under her fringe.

Melissa burst out laughing and led her to the ice parlour. Melissa’s parents had a genuine smile on their faces. Melissa became excited and began to pull Andrea along.

“Mum, Dad. I would like to introduce you to the woman I intend to marry. Andrea Ashford.”

“Intend?” Andrea asked, confused.

“Yes. I haven’t asked you properly, and I have not given you a ring yet.”

“Yes, you have, and I said yes, and I have something better than a ring.” She touched her scarf in her hair. “So, you better marry me. You promised. And a rider’s word…”

Melissa’s parents laughed genuinely. Her mother hugged Melissa. “She is very good for you, Darling. She will keep you on your toes.”

Her mother leaned closer to Andrea so the other people around them wouldn’t overhear her. “You are such a beautiful mare. I’m pleased you stole her heart. I have never seen her that excited. I hope she makes you happy and is a good rider. I tried my best.” She winked.

Her father smiled winningly at her, too. “Andrea, it is a pleasure to welcome you to our family. I heard of your amazing score during your evaluation. 9.5, that’s a lot.”

Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Yes, she was magnificent, walking proud and tall, fearless, especially at the last obstacle. If I hadn’t been head over heels already, I would have fallen hard then and there.”

They sat down, and Melissa ordered the biggest ice creation on the menu for her. The smile on Andrea’s face was all she cared about when it arrived.

They kept the conversation light. Her parents seemed to genuinely care for their daughter. It was something Andrea had never felt from her own mother growing up.

Melissa took a spoon and fished for a ball that looked like strawberry in Andrea’s much-diminished mountain of ice cream, but an angry snort from Andrea stopped her.

“Seriously?” She asked, astounded.

“Yes! Your brand, my ice cream!” Andrea’s eyes flashed.

“Please?” Melissa asked very nicely. Andrea let her wait a moment before taking her spoon and feeding Melissa the strawberry ball.

“Thanks, Gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome, lovely.” Andrea was experimenting with pet names for Melissa, but so far, she had found nothing she liked. Maybe because she wasn’t really in love with her, she knew that. She was her rider and would marry her, and she liked that. She liked her. She knew she had formed a strong emotional attachment to her, and that was enough for her.

In the end, she got a stomachache from all the ice cream, but she would never admit it to Melissa. Ever!

When they arrived back at the Farm, Andrea felt like she could breathe again. Melissa’s parents had been nice, but she felt stared at by all the other people as if she had two heads. “You wanted me to speak up,” she said as they walked back to Melissa’s room.

“Yes…” Melissa said carefully.

“Please bring me back to my stall and stay with me in my straw. I want to be just your pony.”

“Yes, Gorgeous, I will. Come, let me fix your bridle.”

It was nice being back where she belonged. It made her feel much safer. They could hear Charles and Julia fucking hard and wild in the stall next to them, and it made her smile.

Melissa was cuddled against Andrea. Melissa’s naked body against hers, Andrea in the harness, her bridle, her bit and even her tail. She liked that. It felt good.

Melissa whispered into her ear. “Should I ask Charles if he can take you?”

Andrea shook her head. She didn’t want to be asked in general, but today, she wanted just to cuddle with Melissa, and as Julia neighed her third orgasm, they both started to fall asleep.

​Silvia waited at reception for Linda. She arrived with the twins, and she could see how hard it was for all three of them. Getting slaughtered wasn't easy; Silvia knew that. You gave up your life so others could enjoy your meat. The only thing that helped was to just push her along and make it as easy as possible, and treat slaughter as normal as it actually was.

​“Hi, Linda. Thanks for coming. Ramona will do your check-in, and then it’s just a short wait. OK?”

​Linda nodded and swallowed. She was clearly frightened. Understandable. Silvia wondered where Linda’s parents were, but that was Linda’s business. If she wanted to go to her slaughtered with only her friends, that was fair enough.

​After Ramona finished the check-in, Silvia guided Linda and the twins over to the waiting area. Only two more women needed to arrive before this batch went in for slaughter.

​“OK. So you wait here, and then Anne will come and get you. You will meet me in the prep room for your slaughter.”

​“I’m afraid,” Linda confessed.

​“I know. Just relax now. Let go. Everything is done now. We will help you from here on. You won’t feel any pain. I promise.”

​“But you will be there? When....” Linda asked and bit her lip.

​“Yes, I will help slaughter you. I will make you cum, Alexandra will slit your throat, and you will drift off without noticing it. The more you let go, the easier it is. Did you have a good last few days?”

Linda took a deep breath and nodded.

​“Yes....Yes, I had. Pen and Pam took me to a club and...” She blushed. “...I think I can let go now...and we ate grilled Tit together. I never had Tit before; it was good,” Linda said, a bit more confident, but still looked down at her chest. Unsure.

​“Tit can be very nice, and yours should be good. That’s what you are here for now. I will personally butcher you and make sure your Girl meat is good." Linda swallowed hard. But for Silvia, it was important to let her know what she was doing here and what it was all for. Silvia squeezed her hand. "See you soon."

​Silvia left and saw the three of them talking.

​Linda was the last on their docket today; she had made space for her and told Alexandra.

​Alexandra had told her to do the check-in and hoisting. It would be a first for Silvia.

​Linda came into the prep room. She was nervous but held it together. Silvia stepped forward and offered her hand. “Hello, Linda. Take my hand. You’re safe with me. I will be here with you.”

​Silvia could already see that the yield on her body would be OK. She was still young, but she had good muscles, so her meat quality would be good.

​“Silvia. Please be with me,” Linda said as she lay on the table.

​“I will be here with you. From here until your meat is packaged up. The whole time. I will make sure nothing of you is wasted, and everything of you will make good girl meat.”

​Linda nodded, and Silvia attached the spreader bar to her feet.

When they pushed her into the slaughter room, hanging upside down, Linda shivered and bit her lip more. She was trying to hold it together as much as she could.

​Silvia made sure to make her cum good, and after the initial resistance, Linda relaxed into her last orgasm. Alexandra cut her throat, and Linda bled her out. Linda would not have felt anything but bliss for the last seconds of her life. Silvia was happy with that; she had been brave.

After Silvia had gutted and beheaded Linda, she went into the coffee room, where the twins waited. Silvia hadn’t changed; Linda’s blood was still on her apron, but it was part and parcel of her job, and Silvia would not hide it. Not from her family anyway. “She went easy and without pain. She could let go.”

Pam nodded, and Pen sobbed but said, “Thanks, Sis. It helped us too, to know all the details. Mum never told us.”

Silvia nodded. “Her parents didn’t want any cuts of her. Would you like to take some home to honour her?”

That threw them. But Silvia felt like she needed to say this. Needed to make them understand what the purpose of this all was. Cull the overpopulation and provide a food source for the rest. This was the only way to keep the cull rates as low as they were.

The twins looked at each other, and Silvia could see the wordless discussion. Pam finally said, “Yes. She would have wanted that.” She paused. “I would want that for me. Just not... her Tit or Cunt. That’s...”

“Pam. It’s just Girl meat. Linda is gone.” Silvia said gently. “But that’s OK. I will give Helena some cuts to take home.”

After the twins left, Silvia went to butcher Linda’s body down to Girl meat. She set some good cuts of her Ass and Shank aside for the twins.

This was her job—but sometimes, she wished this all would go away and had never existed.

But it did, and she did the best she could to help the ones who had to go.

Pam’s message a few days later came as a bit of a surprise. Pam asked if Silvia could meet her later that day. Silvia texted back, and they arranged to meet at the beach coffee shop just after Gill’s six-month check-up. The throuple was excited, already looking forward to their baby. The problem was, Silvia wanted to get pregnant too. She just hadn’t found the courage to tell them yet.

“What’s up, little troublemaker?” Silvia said in greeting. She was curious about what Pam wanted. Normally, the twins were inseparable and tackled problems together. For Pam to come to her alone was strange.

“Big Sis, how did you become a Girl Butcher?”

That was a strange question, but OK. They ordered coffee and cake, and Silvia told Pam about her mum, Nancy, her fascination with the process, and why she chose this career. It had been the first time Silvia had pulled together all the threads that had led her here, and it made her desire to become a Master even clearer.

Pam listened carefully, nodding occasionally and asking thoughtful questions.

“I don’t know, Sis,” Pam admitted, twisting her fork in her cake. “It’s weird, right? I hate that everyone judges Mum, but at the same time, I kind of... respect her for it—and you especially. The way you talked to Linda... it helped me too, knowing exactly what would happen.” Pam pushed her fork into her cake and broke off a piece, but didn’t eat it. She just stared at it, and Silvia gave her the time to think. “It was good to eat some of her too. For me, it made it easier to understand why we do it. Understand that she…that this was only Girl meat…not Linda anymore.” She put the fork down. “See, I don’t want to be a doctor like Pen—I don’t have that in me—but I want to help. I want to make it better for them. Mum said more Girl Butchers will be needed soon, and…”

Silvia could see the problem. Helena would have a fit—her daughter wanting to slaughter women? Pam had entered slaughterable age a year ago. If she was lucky, she would have a long life. She would finish school, find a job, find a partner. The cull rates were down a lot, so she had a good chance. But for her to become a Girl Butcher and face all the social ostracism and all the other hard parts of the job... Helena would freak out.

“You want me to talk to your mum?” Silvia asked cautiously.

“I’m not sure. I wanted to talk to you first. Wanted to know how it really was. I know what you told Linda, but I want to know the full story. What this really involves.”

Silvia hesitated. She had never even talked to Gill and Donny about her work in much detail, knowing it would freak them out. How much should she tell Pam?

The reality of the job had taken Silvia a long time to fully grasp. She had been only two years older than Pam when she watched Nancy’s slaughter with fascination. It had taken time to understand the weight of that fascination, the brutal realities that were behind the doors.

She exhaled slowly. But Silvia couldn’t lie to her either. If Pam wanted to make a sound decision, then she needed to know the truth. And for Silvia, it was also important to know if Pam could handle the truth before taking this any further.

“Do you know why the livestock is naked and gets cleaned?” she asked, choosing the word on purpose, and she could see Pam’s reaction, but she continued. “Because it’s not an execution. Nobody did anything wrong. It’s a slaughter. My task is to slaughter livestock and butcher their bodies. Make food out of them. Food you eat.”

The words hammered into Pam, and Silvia saw the impact. Pam looked out to the sea for a minute, digesting the words. After a moment, Pam nodded. “I know. I’ve known that since I was a kid. Linda became Girl meat and I ate some of her. I can’t change that. I don’t think anyone can anymore. But I still like Shoulder and Belly cuts.”

Silvia nodded. Good.

“Pam. It’s much harder than just slaughtering and butchering them. I had to kill and cut out a four-month-old foetus from its dead mother last week. It wasn’t the first one,” Silvia said as levelly as she could. In truth, it was only her second. She remembered the woman’s body—it hadn’t been peaceful for her. They hadn’t been able to get her to orgasm, and in the end, there was no choice but to end it quickly for her. It hadn’t been pretty. She told Pam every detail, sparing nothing—even describing the disposal of the baby and the mother’s head in the incinerator.

“So that is also the job. Can you handle that? I didn’t know any of that when I started. I had no idea. It’s hard every time I have to do it. But once you pick up the knife, you have to finish the job.”

Pam sat there, stock-still, staring at her. “So why did you do it? Slaughter the mother?”

“Butcher her, not slaughter. I had to end the foetus’s suffering. I’m not allowed to take lives, but the reality is she had got her Letter. The baby was under six months and not viable. No exceptions. You know that. Nobody is exempt. She had to die. But,” Silvia said, taking Pam’s hand, “she was with us. We talked to her. We cared. We told her that her baby would not suffer. That as soon as she was gone, we would cut its blood supply after she was gone, and it would pass without pain. She wanted us to cut her open and kill the baby first, but we convinced her that would stress the baby more.”

“Is that true?” Pam asked.

“From the best of our understanding and knowledge, yes. As soon as she was gone, I went into her and cut. There wasn’t much movement anymore anyway. Babies die with their mums.” Silvia was still sad she had to do it, but... “Just imagine that in a Processing Centre. They don’t care. Nobody would even listen to her. Bolt to the head. Tits, Cunt—the premium cuts. Then gutting. And probably, they just take everything out, and that’s that. Nobody would care, except for the meat at the end, not for the last moment of a woman who would never be a mother.” Silvia shuddered at the thought.

Pam sat back, thinking. Silvia gave her space but sensed she needed to offer the full, ugly truth.

“I need to tell you about the Vixen—and how my job is seen in public.”

“Oh, I know all about how Girl Butchers are seen,” Pam chuckled darkly. “Growing up with your mum being a Girl Butcher makes you real popular with the other girls, I tell you that. And the guys... fucking perverts, some of them.”

Was that why the twins stuck together like glue? Because they had been ostracised?

They spent a lot of time together and talked. Some of what Silvia told Pam made Pam think. Some of what Pam told Silvia about growing up with the stigma of Helena’s job made Silvia think about her own future and her and their kids. Gill’s baby would be as affected as her...hopefully own child.

“Think about all that. I hate and love my job. I hate what I have to do. I love that I can make it easier for them. It’s a double-edged blade—it cuts both ways at the same time. And as much as the women who are slaughtered don’t feel the cut, we do.”

Pam promised to think about it, and Silvia drove her home. Silvia needed to visit her dad anyway, so she invited herself to family dinner—not that anyone minded at all. She had been very preoccupied with her lovers lately.

“You look good! How is Gill doing with the baby?” Dad asked, and Silvia’s smile grew.

“She’s good and starting to get really fat,” Silvia grinned. “She hates it, but we’re all extremely excited.”

Helena smiled warmly. “I’m so happy for you. You look happy, and that’s good.”

“You guys too. When can I start calling you Mum officially?” Silvia teased.

There was a look between her dad, Helena, the twins, and Silvia.

“We weren’t sure...” Dad said.

“Oh, but we are,” the twins chimed in, and Silvia said, “I’m for it,” at the same time.

Dad’s smile grew wide. He stood up and went to the kitchen cabinet. After a moment of stretching and rummaging, he came back with a fresh box of Silly Loops.

Helena rolled her eyes, annoyed. “I knew you had one more stuffed away somewhere. Your blood sugar—” Helena stopped as he dropped onto one knee in front of her.

“Helena, darling, I want to share all the Silly Loops in the world with you. Will you please be my wife?” he asked, holding the box out to her.

Everyone dissolved into laughter.

“You silly man! Yes, I want to. I do,” she said, hugging and kissing him. They kissed — deeply, long, and passionately. It warmed Silvia’s heart to see that her dad had found love again.

“Get a room!” Pen shouted.

Helena broke the kiss. “Deal with it. He’s your dad now,” she smirked, and kissed him much more passionately. “And parents make out.” She stated afterwards, grinning.

Silvia hugged Helena tightly, and somehow it made her tear up.

“Thanks, Helena... Mum,” Silvia said as Helena held her tight. The rest of the family joined in. Silvia hadn’t been this happy in a long time. She just wished her lovers had been here with her.

In the middle of the next week, Pam called again.

“Okay. I thought about what you said. I want to see if I have what it takes. How do I go about it? How do I become a Girl Butcher? How do I deal with Mum?”

“You show up after school today, and you start cleaning. If you do that well enough, you can come back the day after to do it again.”

“Cleaning?” Pam asked, astounded.

“Cleaning. Mind-numbing, hard deep-cleaning.” Silvia’s voice was firm. “No sibling or daughter benefits. Just Pamela cleaning.”

“Okay. Yes. When? What do I have to bring?” she asked, and that was a good sign.

Silvia hung up, went to the coffee shop, and ordered a mochaccino with extra cream. She took a deep breath and went into their small office, where Helena was buried in paperwork, an aspect of the trade Silvia wouldn’t need to face for a while. She placed the coffee in front of her. Helena looked at it.

“Extra cream? Okay, spill the beans. You’re pregnant?”

“No. But I would like to be... but...” She shook her head. “Not what I’m here for.”

Helena sighed and took a deep sip, cream all over her lip, just the way she liked it.

“So... Head Butcher.” Helena’s eyebrows went up as Silvia became formal.

“Oh, Head Butcher and extra cream... I can’t wait to hear this. This must be reaaally good,” Helena mumbled dryly, rolling her eyes.

“Well... we’re looking for a new apprentice, right? And the two candidates we tried out... well...”

Helena just rolled her eyes again. They had tried an ex-line butcher who had got handsy with the clients, and the other girl had been lazy and only interested in the gory details of the job.

“So this afternoon, we have a new candidate. Melissa and I will look after her for the first part until she’s ready to see the Processing Centre.”

Helena blinked, then her voice rose as she became upset. “And you think you can just decide... What the fuck were you thinking? I have to approve—”

“It’s Pamela,” Silvia interrupted her, shutting her up instantly. “She’s been talking to me for a while.”

A massive battle played out on Helena’s face: astonishment, anger, confusion, fear. Silvia understood. It was as hard for Helena as it had been for Silvia’s dad.

“Listen, Hels... Mum. She really wants to try. Pen doesn’t even know.”

“What?!” That pulled her out of her inner battle. The twins not sharing a secret was unheard of.

“She really wants to give it a try. I told her she won’t get Mum or Sis benefits. She has to work for it. I told her to show up today after twelve for scrubbing. The first thing she asked was what to bring.” Helena nodded—right attitude.

“Melissa and I will deal with her. We’ll make her life hard, just like you did to us,” Silvia said, her voice sweet as sugar for the last part.

“Silvia... this job is hard. You know that. You lucked out with Gill and Donny... and I with your dad. But look at Melissa and Alexandra. Even Anne and Ramona... they can’t find partners.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “Pam... I’m worried about her future.”

“First of all,” Silvia said, holding up a finger, “I don’t think Alexandra will ever settle for one partner ever again. You know that as well as I do. Melissa... I have no idea what she actually wants, and I don’t think she knows either. Anne... well... she’s happier in an orgy than with one partner. Ramona... yeah, fine, she has issues keeping them around. Or they’re creeps.”

Helena opened her mouth to reply, but Silvia held up a second finger. “Secondly, I totally agree with you,” she said, her voice earnest. “You raised Pam to be weak and emotionally unstable. She won’t last a day. So what does it matter anyway?” She shook her head slowly, as if delivering a judgement.

That did it.

Helena shot upright in her chair, her face darkening with rage. “I raised my daughters right! Pam is strong and—”

She stopped, her eyes narrowing as she caught Silvia’s sly grin. Realisation dawned, and Helena rolled her eyes, slumping back into her chair.

“Fuck you, Silvi,” she muttered, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “I’m your mother now. I can give you a spanking, you know that?”

Silvia only grinned. “Haven’t you outsourced all that to Alex? As I said, Melissa and I will look after her for the first part. Then we can decide how she’s doing.”

“Your father is going to have a heart attack,” Helena said, defeated.

“No, he won’t. And while we’re talking about you and my dadI’ll be Dad’s best woman, and the twins will be your bridesmaids. We’ve decided.”

“How lovely! Can I at least pick the flowers?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice as much as the extra cream from her upper lip.

“Well... actually...” Silvia said, leaving the sentence hanging with a playful grin.

“Get out!” Helena shouted, amused. “Brat! Let’s see how this works. Your responsibility. You teach her the basics.”

Silvia scrambled. She knew when to get out of Helena’s way.

Pamela showed up on time. Silvia greeted her briskly: “Shower. Clean clothes. Gloves.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pamela said, and she wasn’t even joking. Silvia just rolled her eyes. That was a bit much, but she let her find her own stride. Silvia had decided that here she would be Pamela, not Pam. Here, she was a worker, not a stepsister.

Silvia walked her through the process of preparing to enter a food-processing area and taught her the importance of hygiene and cleanliness standards.

Then she showed Pamela how to clean a slaughter room — the same way she’d learnt from Helena. Silvia did the first room while Pamela watched, then Pamela did the next room, and Silvia pointed out every spot Pamela missed. When she finished, Melissa took over for the next room, scrutinising Pamela’s work just as closely. Pamela was determined, showing no signs of frustration. She absorbed the instructions and tried her best to implement them.

Alexandra handled the final room.

They had Anne and Ramona keep Pamela occupied with coffee runs and other minor tasks while they slaughtered the afternoon client.

When they were done, Silvia fetched Pamela again. “Ready for some more reality, Pamela?”

“Yes, Silvia.” The ‘ma’am’ business was ridiculous, and Silvia was glad Pamela had dropped it.

They cleaned themselves thoroughly again, preparing for the next step. Silvia led Pamela into the butcher room, where Melissa and Alexandra were working on the afternoon clients. Alexandra had insisted that Silvia should take the lead for this part too.

They had lucked out—there was exactly one carcass for Pamela to see, to find out if she would crack.

The girl had been about Pamela’s age, just like Linda. They had kept the head. It sat on Silvia’s table, the eyes staring lifelessly at nothing. There was blood in its hair.

When Pamela entered the butcher room, she stopped and stared. First at the four headless carcasses hanging upside down, arms bound behind their backs. Silvia remembered the disorientation she had felt upon first seeing this. Without heads, they all looked the same.

As she looked on, Melissa and Alexandra each took one of the carcasses and moved it along the ceiling rails to their workstations, where they began butchering the Girl meat. Their movements were precise and methodical. They ignored Pamela completely and concentrated on the meat in front of them. Pamela was staring, but not shocked, just taking it all in. That was a good sign.

Silvia pulled Pamela to her table. “Remember her?” she said, pointing at the head.

“I saw her in the waiting room!” Pamela exclaimed, her voice tight. They had arranged for Pamela to see the afternoon clients before they went in.

“What was her name?” Pamela asked as she stepped closer, careful not to touch anything as Silvia had instructed.

“Yolanda,” Silvia said, glancing at the carcass. “A bit younger than you or Linda. Just slaughterable age.”

Silvia gave Pamela some time to study the face while she retrieved Yolanda’s carcass.

“I’m going to break her down now. You can touch her head, but nothing else. This is a food preparation area. When you’re done, put her head in that chute,” Silvia said, pointing to the red chute that led to the incinerator.

“She is... was like Linda, or me. How did she go out? Was she afraid?” Pamela asked, reaching out to touch Yolanda’s face.

“She was afraid. She shook and sobbed, but she went out with a good orgasm. She felt nothing in the end,” Silvia replied. “Helena slit her throat while she came. Take the head by the bun. That’s what it’s for. Put it into the incinerator chute over there. Don’t drop it. They make a mess.”

Pamela hesitated before gripping the head by its bun. Silvia could see her surprise at how light it was. Pamela looked at the head, studying it. Then she walked carefully to the chute and placed the head inside.

Silvia nodded and began breaking down the carcass: premium cuts first—Tits and Cunt. Pamela stared at what she was doing, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had watched Helena butcher Nancy down—had seen this for the first time, the transformation of a woman’s body into just meat.

It was more than just slicing off an arm. It was a woman being taken apart—her boobs, her pussy. These were things Pamela herself had, could touch. Seeing them turned into food was... confronting, intimate. What had once been a boob the woman had enjoyed playing with became a Tit, ready to be grilled or baked.

But Pamela didn’t say anything, nor did she run off or vomit. Silvia continued working her way through the rest, commenting on what she did and why. Just as Helena had done. She sawed off the Shoulders, split the carcass in half, removed the Shanks, separated hands and feet, divided the upper and lower body, and extracted ribs, Ass, and Belly fat. Pamela watched closely, her expression thoughtful, as Silvia packaged each part and stored it away.

Once everything was cleaned and stored, Silvia took Pamela out of the butcher room so they could clean themselves again.

“So?” Silvia asked. “Still think this job is for you?”

Pamela was clearly thinking hard, and that was good. “I don’t know. It’s... it’s confronting. She looked like one of my schoolmates, like Pen, like me. Seeing her become Girl meat...” She shook her head. “But... you did it with dedication. You treated her as more than just meat.”

Silvia smirked. “Think about it. Come back tomorrow after school if you still want to do it. If not, nobody will say a word about it.”

Then she added impulsively, “You did well. But it only gets worse from here on. Much worse.”

Pamela nodded, finished showering, and left.

Silvia leaned in the doorway of Helena’s office. “So?” she asked.

“I watched her on the monitors. She handled it well,” Helena said, nodding.

Silvia agreed. “Let’s see if she comes back.”

Helena sighed loudly. “She will. She’s thinking hard—I saw that—but I know her. Give her time to think while she cleans. It helped you.”

That was true. Cleaning always helped Silvia clear her mind, almost like meditation.

When Helena came in the next morning, she just shook her head. “Nobody said anything at dinner. Pen still doesn’t know.” Which was an indicator in itself.

Pamela returned after school, ready to clean. Silvia was about to assign her work when Helena walked in.

“Here, I’m Helena, and you will be Pamela. One ‘Mum’ or ‘Muuuum’”—she said the last word in the wailing tone the twins used—“and you can go back home. Understood?”

Pamela nodded. “Understood, Helena. Please don’t say anything to Penelope. I will tell her myself if I’m accepted as an apprentice.”

Helena nodded. “Good. You understood that correctly: we decide. Now start at Slaughter Room 1 and work your way to Slaughter Room 4. I will check today.”

“Yes, Helena. Thanks.”

“Thanks? For what?” Helena asked.

“For treating me as Pamela, not like a kid.”

Helena turned and left without saying anything. Silvia chuckled. That was the Helena she had known. But what Silvia also noticed for the first time was the water in Helena’s eyes that she tried to suppress.

“Move it, Pamela. We need to slaughter women,” Silvia added dryly, nudging her forward. She didn’t usually play the hardass—but today, she finally understood why Helena had been that way. It had helped her, and it would help Pamela.

A week became two, then three, and Pamela was actually doing well. She told Pen she was working in a lab to see if she liked it, explaining why she smelled of disinfectant and cleaning chemicals. Pamela must have been convincing—Pen stopped pestering her.

Alex took the twins for a weekend away, and Silvia covered for them with an invented camping trip. Silvia didn’t ask for details when they came back. They would talk to her if they needed—or to Alex, who was probably the better person anyway when it came to sex. But what was clear was that whatever had happened that weekend had changed them. Somehow, they felt more settled. More grown up. More sure of their own sexuality.

At the end of the next month, Helena called a lunch meeting with the butchers.

As soon as everyone sat down, Alexandra spoke up. “I’ll take her.”

“Thanks, Alex. But there’s more to this meeting than who takes Pamela to the Processing Centre. First, Silvia is getting her accreditation soon...”

“I need to pass it first,” Silvia interjected.

Helena smirked. “And you will. You’ll smash it. You’re sitting for it just after your first year. It normally takes one and a half to two years. You’re born to do this job.”

Alexandra nodded, and Melissa added, “I agree. You soak up information and skills like a sponge. Makes me jealous.” She grinned.

Silvia turned red with embarrassment, though she felt a little pride.

Helena continued. “What I want is to form three teams and get up to twelve women a day. That’s still four per team per day, same as we have now. The HPCC has notified us that cull numbers have dropped enough for them to start phasing out the processing centres. Long term, four teams would put us at sixteen without dropping quality of care.”

There was silence. That was big news. That meant that the burden of slaughtering women would fall more and more onto small private processing centres, like theirs, where they could make a difference. It was good and bad news. More women could face their end with dignity, but it also meant they needed to ramp up their throughput.

Helena confirmed it. “Which means we need another apprentice. Pamela is working out well so far, so I want to offer her a contract. But I need you to vote on it.”

“Why?” Melissa asked, with Silvia right behind her.

“Because she’s my daughter,” Helena replied, as if it were obvious.

“Not getting it,” Alexandra said with a shrug. “She’s almost my own daughter. I was there for her birth. She works her arse off, she’s determined, and she’s actually pretty good at it too. Apples, trees, and all that. Also, Hels, you’re our Head Butcher. We trust you, and we’d tell you if we had issues.” Alex shrugged her shoulders again. “But if it makes you happy... For it?”

All arms except Helena’s went up. Silvia nudged her hard.

“Fine,” Helena said, raising her arm too.

“Thanks. I’m the mother and... well... it isn’t easy.”

“You’re my mother now too, and you don’t have issues pushing me,” Silvia commented. “You’re even pushing me harder to go for my Master, and I’m not even a Journeywoman yet.”

Helena rolled her eyes but grabbed Silvia’s hand. “Fine. Okay.” She smiled. “Pamela is doing well. You were right.”

“Yes. You should be proud of her, Hels. I am!” Alex added enthusiastically.

“I am... I am. I just hoped for a better life for her... anyway.” Helena breathed deeply. “It’s her life. Anyway. Next point: Pamela’s initiation. I know it’s at least three months away, but...”

“Oh yeah... right. How are we pulling that off?” Melissa asked. She was right—how? Pamela had to believe that she was being slaughtered for real. That was the important point.

“So... I need you all to start thinking about that and see what you come up with. I have nothing... and it can’t be me either. She would never believe I would slaughter her.”

“It is very important to understand, especially for her,” Alexandra added. “She grew up with it. She is third-generation Lottery. I mean, have you noticed that the younger women are actually less stressed about it? It’s becoming more normal. Not sure if that's good or bad...”

Silvia had noticed that too. They were still nervous—who wouldn’t be, going to their slaughter?—but fewer of them were terrified or outright panicked.

“That’s a good point, Alex. OK, Silvia and Melissa, you are both second generation. I want you to oversee and train Pamela. I want fresh minds. Pull me or Alex in for the hard stuff. But you can handle her until it comes to customisations and all that. I want Alex and me looking for another apprentice.”

“OK... we keep looking. But we won’t do the advertising anymore, right, Hels? We all agreed that was a waste of time and... fuck. No... never again.” Alexandra was outraged again. Rightly so. Helena had outsourced the vetting to her, and the number of weirdos who had come running had been outrageous.

“Yes, yes. I remember some of them. I just don’t know how else we’re supposed to find anyone.” Nobody had a better idea, so they kept searching.

Alexandra took Pamela to the Processing Centre three weeks later, on the worst day possible. Silvia didn’t envy her. Silvia had been back to the Centre on a normal day. It was still industrial but not as shocking. The line butchers took more time and care now, but Silvia was still glad she could give women a better choice.

Alex had asked Silvia to wait outside the office, so she did as asked. She had no idea why Alex needed her, but she was not about to question her.

Silvia waited in her car, and her eyes fell on the Nancy sticker. It brought back so many memories. “I still miss you. You changed so much for me. Thank you for a better tomorrow.” And finally, that sentence had a new personal meaning for her.

It took longer than Silvia had thought for Alexandra to come back with Pamela. Pamela was white as a sheet and looked as if she had cried, but had not vomited as she had. Silvia didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“So, Pamela. Now you know what we do. We kill. We make living women into dead meat.” Silvia had never heard Alexandra sound so cold before, but she knew the purpose of this. This was a break test.

“So what? Are you trying to scare me? Silvia tried that too. Yes, women have to die, yes, we have to kill them, yes, we are eating them. BUT we don’t have to slaughter them like this!”

“Does it matter how we kill them? Does it matter how long they suffer? It just matters that we kill them. That’s literally our job. You will have to kill tens of thousands of women. Every day, you have to kill.”

“I can kill,” Pamela replied angrily.

Alexandra drew her knife and held it out to Pamela. “Kill Silvia.”

Pamela froze, her eyes darting to the knife and to Silvia. Silvia’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, putting up her hands defensively. “No!” It escaped her. What the fuck was Alexandra up to? She wouldn’t... would she?

Alexandra stepped forward, thrusting the knife’s hilt towards Pamela. “You will have to kill. Maybe Silvia. Maybe your sister. Anyone in your class at school. Anyone you see in the street who is of slaughterable age. You will need to be able to kill them.”

Pamela hesitated, looking at the knife. Alexandra continued in the same cold voice. “These women don’t have time for you to break down or doubt yourself. They need you to kill them.”

Alexandra stepped back, the knife still in her hand. “You need to be ready to kill, to take lives. If you can’t do that, you can’t be a Girl Butcher.”

“But...” Pamela started.

“No. I need you to go away and think. Think long and hard. Think about whether you can pick up a knife and kill. Kill a woman who is pleading on her knees for her life, a woman who pisses herself with fear. Because this is what you will have to do.” Alexandra paused for a moment, letting this sink in. “This is what we do. Go and think. Feel the weight of a knife in your hand, the tears in their eyes. See if you can kill when it’s needed—whether you agree or not.”

Pamela stared at Alexandra for a moment and then at Silvia. Alexandra sheathed the knife. Silvia could see the conflict in Pamela. The impact.

Finally, Pamela turned around and walked off to her car.

As soon as she was out of sight, Silvia turned to Alexandra. “What the actual fuck, Alex. Kill me?”

Alex smirked, drew the knife again, and held it out to Silvia. It was the dull training knife. “Silvia. I would never put you in danger. Pamela grew up knowing, and she thinks she can do it, but she needs to come to terms with the fact that she has to kill even if she doesn’t want to. It won’t be easy for her. For you, the lesson was understanding that this was not some noble calling.”

Silvia nodded, thrown back to her own experience of her break test. For her, it was the indignity of it; for Pamela, it was the killing. “What was your breaking point?” she asked Alexandra.

“We didn’t have this kind of test before. Helana and I came up with it. Back when we learned the trade, they just put us to work. Minimal training.” Silvia could see how much Alex was affected by her past and why they trained as they did.

“I had a real breakdown when one of my former lovers was in my line at the Centre. I froze. I couldn’t do it. The look on her face when they pulled me off her line… it still haunts me. I failed her.”

“Is this job ever going to become easier?” Silvia asked.

“No. Never. Because the more you care about what and how you do it, the harder it gets. The more it takes out of you. And that’s the lesson you are currently learning.”

That hit her. Yes. Sometimes she felt so emotionally drained it was hard to come to work.

Alex put an arm around her. “You need to learn how to recharge your batteries. I lose myself in wild sex.”

Silvia shook her head. “I’m in a committed...” she started, but Alexandra interrupted her.

“Yes. I told you how I fill up. You have to find what fills you up. You go and figure that out. That’s your next important milestone.”

Silvia nodded. Yes, she would have to. She could feel she was exhausted. In last week’s slaughters, there had been two women who had been hard, and she still felt that.

Silvia decided to spend some time at the cliff and think. It helped her. Mostly. She was unsure if it was the wind and the constant pounding of the ocean against the cliffs below, or just that she normally had the place to herself. It didn’t matter—both helped.

Just sitting here, Silvia could feel more peace streaming into her. The silence worked for her- no other people- but it only helped her think more clearly. It didn’t fill her back up. Alexandra had been right. She needed to recharge her batteries. Sex wasn’t it. Sure, she liked sex with her lovers, but what she really craved was to wake up in bed—Gill halfway over her, Donny’s arms around her...

Silvia sat up straight. She needed her lovers, her partners, her family. That was how she recharged her batteries. Her family.

Silvia wanted to be more. She wanted to be bound to them, and they to her. She wanted to be married to them.

Married. Silvia got up and drove to the city. She needed rings, and she knew exactly how she would ask them.

The Farm - Chapter 13 – Branding

Training continued with dressage, sulky work, and Partner Time.

One Partner Time was scary for all the ponies, each for different reasons. Mindy packed them all into a small bus, and they went to a public restaurant. An upmarket place, not far from London. Stylish but not too crowded.

It was a test again. How would the ponies behave in a public Partner Time situation? All the ponies were skittish. Andrea was skittish because she felt everyone was judging her. She knew that feeling well. She had always had it every time she was at a party. Melissa put an arm around her waist, stopping her from looking around. Her nearness reassured Andrea.

“You are with me,” Melissa said. “You only focus on me. Nothing else exists for you but me.”

Maria didn’t like new situations that involved people she didn’t know, whether they were friendly or predators. She, too, was constantly scanning the room, looking for trouble. Penelope took her hand and whispered to Maria. “Relax, I know this place. There is nothing here that will hurt us. I’m here, and I will protect you.”

Julia was nervous because she was wearing clothes and expected to be a partner. As a pony, the people wouldn’t faze her, but as a partner, they did. She needed to be a lady. It was still very hard for her. “Breathe. Everything is fine. Just be yourself… wait, no… just be like Andrea,” whispered Charles. Yes, she could do that. Being as nervous as her lead mare would work for her right now.

For George, the fear was different. For the first time, he would publicly acknowledge his male partner. He was known, and even though this restaurant wasn’t frequented much by Society members, word would still get out. He had committed himself to this relationship. George took a breath and, after a moment of hesitation, reached for his partner’s hand. It was what it was. He was rewarded with his partner’s face lighting up.

But all in all, it worked out well for all ponies.

Andrea realised that the only opinion she truly cared about was Melissa’s, and it was a relief not to need to be the centre of attention. Melissa was very happy with how well Andrea behaved.

Maria relaxed. George had insisted on sitting next to her, and that had settled her. Penelope was protecting her, too, but it wasn’t easy shedding the slums. A massive guy like George made her feel safer. Penelope was greatly relieved that her partner was able to let go of some of her fears.

It helped George, too. He had sensed her nervousness. Sitting next to Maria and protecting her from her own fears, as well as having his partner on his other side protecting him, made him feel like a real man. He could see how proud Henry was. Fuck society.

After seeing Andrea calm down under Melissa's hand, Julia felt she could too. She was surprised at how easy it was. She had thought she needed to do something special, but she only needed to adjust her crazy pony attitude to be more assertive and less afraid. She even started a conversation with Henry and asked the waiter not to put broccoli on her plate. Charles was very happy.

Later that night, they were rewarded by being allowed to sleep in their rider's bed for the first time.

They had not been in a bed forever, and it felt different. They wore nightshirts, pyjamas, and, in Julia’s case, nothing at all. Their arms were free; there was no bridle and no bit. It felt strange.

But all that was quickly forgotten because their partners were with them for the whole night. They weren’t allowed to have sex, but that was all right. Everyone enjoyed being in their partner's arms.

Andrea had come a long way. She had accepted Melissa not only as her rider but also as her future wife. She still liked to be fucked by a colt or even, lately, even new stallions, but she enjoyed being with her and even looked forward to seeing her each morning.

Penelope and Maria's dynamic evolved, too. Maria was the pony in the stable, and Penelope was her rider. But during partner time, Maria became the dominant one. Penelope wanted it that way, and it worked for both of them.

Henry and George worked well. George needed someone who gave him rules and cared for him. He would never be gay, but he liked making love to his partner, satisfying his sexual needs as Henry satisfied him emotional needs. None of them needed anything more right now. They gave themselves space to grow. Henry had him cover real mares, and that helped them both.

Julia learned to be more of a partner, and Charles loved it. They were already planning her training to compete in the Farm Cup. Both of them were burning for it, and for each other.

They all learned to switch between being a pony and being a partner, but they also learned that their pony identity was their primary one. The one they would default to, and they did.

Mindy was happy. Once again, the programme had produced willing, stable, trained, and tamed ponies.

It was time.

 

Today felt different for the ponies; something was changing again. They had become used to their training shifting whenever a new phase started, and it felt like that today.

They had all woken up in their partners’ beds. That had happened a few times before already. But everything else that followed was very different from their typical day.

Normally, their partners took them to pony time after breakfast. They had to undress. Their partners would put on their harnesses, slip a bridle over their head, put a bit between their teeth, insert their tails into their arseholes and bind their hands behind their backs, just as every day.

As a pony, they would do whatever their rider had in store for them, sulky, dressage, walks, fucking, whipping, and the only thing they could do was neigh, whine, blow and stomp. They were ponies, and they were content to be ponies.

Over the last four months, they had been trained, conditioned and formed to become a pony, wanting to be a pony. Forgetting their old selves and finding new ones as a pony and as a partner.

It had been a long road, one that had tears, one that had trust and one that had led them to their new partners.

But today was different. Just after breakfast in bed, which hadn’t happened before, their partners all said the same thing, and for all ponies, it felt out of character for their riders.

“Pony. Today, I will brand you. I’m going downstairs to heat up the coals for the iron. I will meet you in the arena behind the house in 30 minutes.” Then they just left. Not even looking back or saying another word.

The times varied slightly to create gaps between each pony, but they didn’t know that. This was the last test for them. The true test of their transition to a proper Farm pony. Would they willingly go and get branded by their partner?

It was hard for the riders as well. They couldn’t support the ponies directly, and each pony had to willingly come forward, knowing they would be branded, knowing it would hurt, and that after this, there was no way back.

Failure at this stage was extremely rare, but it had happened in the Farm’s century-long existence. Ponies who couldn’t go through with it were sent away, forever disconnecting them from this world. For the riders, it was devastating.

Andrea sat in their room and shivered. She was afraid of the pain. The red-hot iron was exactly as she had imagined it. It would hurt so much. She tried to calm herself down, but it didn’t help much. She wished Melissa was here to hold her hand and give her strength, but she wasn’t, and it was torture.

When the time came, she realised that her bridle, harness and tail weren’t where they were supposed to be. She panicked. She looked everywhere, but they were gone. She would have to go like this. Naked or clothed?

She was a pony; ponies didn’t wear clothes.

She breathed deeply and stripped naked, put her hands behind her back and walked downstairs. The house was deserted. Normally, riders and ponies would be around, but no one was there. She had never walked alone, without a bridle, before, and it felt weird. She knew the way to the arena, but it was still strange.

When she left the house towards the Farm’s entrance, she found two signs. Each said ‘Future’. One was pointing to a waiting taxi, a pile of clothes and a lot of cash as well as a suitcase. The other pointed to the back of the house. Beside it lay her bridle, harness, and tail.

It made her stop. She understood what was going on. She had understood what would happen to her as she went through her training to become a Farm pony.

She had been brainwashed, conditioned and manipulated.

To the left, a chance to get away and never return. There was a big pile of money. She could go overseas and never look back. She could never return to her old life, which had stopped existing as soon as she had set foot into her mother’s limousine that day, long ago.

She needed to go willingly. Willingly and fully accepting what she had become and living it for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t hard, and she had only stopped for a heartbeat. She turned right and put her harness on, inserted her tail, the bridle over her head and then, with trembling hands, she inserted her bit into her mouth. Finishing the transformation she had begun long ago.

She had no one to bind her arms, so she just put them behind her back. She breathed deeply once more and walked on.

The arena ranks were full. Every pony, every rider, every stable hand. A lot of people.

She stood straighter and lifted her legs properly, as a pony should, towards the centre where Melissa waited for her. On the right of her was a brazier with red-hot coals in which the branding iron rested. A metal bench to her left.

Andrea's stomach was turning, and it was hard to keep a straight line and walk towards the pain. She was not afraid of what the branding meant. The mark would be the physical seal on her transformation, but she had made peace with that long ago. She had found a better life being a pony. She had found a loving partner, and she had found something where she felt she fit in. The Farm. She was just afraid of the pain.

“When you are ready for my brand, lay yourself over the bench,” Melissa said, and she could hear the tumult of emotion in her, but also the short smile of relief when she had seen her entering the arena.

She was happy that it wasn’t easy for her, either.

Andrea breathed fast and shallow; she was nervous and frightened, but she lay down on the bench.

“Grab the handles and hold still. There are no bonds. You have to stay.”

Shit. With bonds, it would have been easier. But it made sense. She had to do it voluntarily, by her own free will, by her choice.

“When you're ready, say, ‘I accept your brand.’”

This was even more formal than she had thought, but she understood why. She managed to say, “I accept your brand,” as much as her bit allowed it.

She could feel the heat as the iron came closer and then the contact. For a second, she thought it was cold, but then her nerve endings caught up, and she screamed as she smelled her own burning skin.

Melissa pressed the hot iron against her butt cheek and held it there for multiple eternities.

Andrea tried to stay where she was, struggling, screaming, and fighting to avoid fainting.

Finally, the iron was lifted from her butt cheek, and she cried and sobbed. The pain was beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

Melissa came and helped her up on her wobbly knees. Her legs felt like they could barely hold her weight, and she felt lightheaded. The heat still radiated and she was still crying softly. She tried to hold it together as much as she could. She was in pain but also happy. She had done it. It was done.

All the ponies, riders and stable hands cheered loudly. Melissa hugged her and took her bit out.

“Hi, Gorgeous. I love you. You are my pony now and forever.”

“I’m proud to be your pony.” She said, forcing herself to give her rider a proper response despite her sobs and the pain that was overwhelming.

Melissa guided her off towards the stables to look after her pony's injuries.

 

Maria could hear the scream and the cheers. She gulped, and then it was her time. She had already discovered that her bridle, harness and tail were missing, and she hated that. She knew exactly where she had put them yesterday. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she sighed and just went naked downstairs.

The money was something that stopped her cold. She had never seen so much money before, but she wasn’t tempted, not in the slightest, just astounded. She wanted to belong to Penelope; she wanted to start a new life with her, have foals with her, and maybe one of them would become a rider or a pony.

It wasn’t easy to get into the harness and bridle alone; normally, Penelope would help her. She was her rider. She missed her, and it felt wrong to be a pony without her hands to help.

When she hit the arena, she froze. Too many people. Way too many. She wasn’t afraid of the white-hot iron she could see next to Penelope or the pain it promised, but these people freaked her out.

She gulped, breathed through it and walked forward. She needed to reach Penelope, even as the crowd freaked her out, she wanted to be with her. She tried to prance just to distract herself, but her eyes still flicked across the mass of people. She focused only on Penelope as she came closer to her. She would have loved to run, but she knew this was special for her, for Penelope.

Finally, she was next to her, and she could see her swallowing her emotions as well as Maria had her fear.

“Grab the handles and hold still. There are no bonds. You have to stay.” She heard Penelope say.

She lay down, and it was better. She faced the entrance to the arena, where no one was. Better. She could breathe.

“When you’re ready, say, ‘I accept your brand.’”

“I accept your brand,” she said strongly and as articulately as possible.

The iron burned her. She screamed and then bit down on her bit. She could smell her own flesh burning. The pain hit her like a sledgehammer. Then it was over, but still, the burn radiated heat and pain through her body.

Penelope helped her up, and she held on to her. The riders and ponies cheered for her. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid of them anymore. They were here to welcome her. Whatever she had been before didn’t matter anymore. She was a Farm pony belonging here.

Penelope took her bit out.

“I love you so much, Maria. Thanks for becoming my pony.”

“I love you too. I will wear your brand with pride.” She was her pony and would never be alone in this world.

“Come, let us go to look after the wound.”

And she guided her off towards the stable.

 

It was George's turn. He had been sitting around for a while now and had been thinking hard. This was the final step, his final commitment to this life as a pony. To his life with a male partner.

He had heard the screams and the cheers. He wasn’t bothered by the pain to come. He was nervous about what would come after. His parents might be here, maybe even his brothers. He hoped he would not see them before he was branded, and Henry was with him. He was not sure how he would react to seeing his father.

When the time came, he went downstairs. He had been sitting around naked anyway. It was easier that way. Henry liked him naked as much as possible, and he obliged him. That his tack had disappeared didn’t bother him much. It was just a physical reminder of what he was, and he knew that even without it.

The money was not the point, but the taxi and the promise of never seeing his parents again was. It stopped him for a second. For a heartbeat, For a heartbeat, he imagined going so far away that his parents would never find him again. But there was Henry. George knew that without his strength, he would slip back into his old life, and then what? Lying in some corner, drunk and pissing himself? Henry would look after him. Henry would make sure he was cared for. Loved. Protected.

He got into his harness, bridle, and bit, then pushed his tail into his arse. He liked it when Henry did that, or even better, when he left his cum in his arse and then put it in. He had to smile about that. It had felt humiliating the first time, but he had come to see it as a promise of care and love.

He marched into the arena, his head held high, and his gaze focused only on Henry. He didn’t want to see if his parents or brothers were there. He did not want that. That would hurt more than the white-hot iron.

What he saw was the intense relief in Henry’s face, and that gave him strength. Henry had chosen him, and now he chose Henry.

“Grab the handles and hold still. There are no bonds. You have to stay.”

He lay down and was happy that he faced the entrance.

“When you’re ready, say. ‘I accept your brand’.”

He closed his eyes. This was it. No turning back after this. One deep breath, and he said, “I accept your brand.” Sealing his destiny as Henry’s pony and husband-to-be. Fuck his parents. Fuck his title. Fuck society.

He grunted loudly and bit into his bit. It hurt like hell. Nothing had ever felt as bad; even Mindy’s taser to his balls had been nothing compared to this.

Then it was over. Henry helped him up, and the riders and ponies cheered him on. It felt good to be part of them. He was a real stallion now. Branded. Proud, and he belonged to Henry.

“Love. I’m looking forward to our new life.”

“Me too. Please protect me,” he said between sobs from the pain that was radiating from his butt cheek.

“I will always protect you. You are mine.”

The pain he felt was intense, but these words burned through it like a ray of sun through fog. He would be protected from his parents and from himself. Henry took his bridle and guided him gently away to the stables.

 

Julia was excited and jumpy. Why was she last? She had heard two female screams and three loud cheers. Why was she last?

She had been to brandings before, and she knew what happened. She wouldn't like the pain, not at all. But this pain was unavoidable for her to be a true pony. It surely couldn’t be as bad as they made it out, even if it was bad, it would be over in seconds. She hoped.

That her tack was missing was unexpected, she knew that ponies came into the arena in full tack. Maybe this was different, maybe Charles had to put her into the tack in front of everyone. She wasn’t really worried about that part.

When she came down, she did not even stop. She went directly to her tack. The taxi and the pile of paper were just a mystery to her. Where would she go? Into a world she didn’t understand at all? At least Charles helped her make sense of that other world.

She blew out and made short work of getting into her tack and putting her tail in. Even as her excitement made her hurry along, she stopped herself and made sure everything looked right and was perfect. Every buckle was done up correctly; her tail centred, the leather straps left and right of her vulva and sitting correctly around her tits. Good. She didn’t want to be half-dressed. Not today.

When she hit the arena, she was torn between running straight to Charles and showing off. This was her branding, and it happened only once in a pony’s life. So, she took the time to display some of her dressage moves. She could see Charles rolling his eyes.

“Grab the handles and hold still. There are no bonds. You have to stay.”

She knew the sentences that would be spoken by heart, and it was finally her turn to hear them and speak them.

Right now, the iron and the heat of the coals frightened her more than any fear of being a partner or a lady. She would worry about that after she was finally a real pony.

“When you’re ready, say. ‘I accept your brand’.”

“I accept your brand,” she said excitedly and then screamed as the iron burned her butt cheek deeply.

The pain was worse than anything she had imagined: searing, sharp, endless. She never wanted to feel that again, but she held on. She was a pony now. She could take this.

Then it was over, and she was left sobbing and panting for air. Charles helped her up, but she was weak in her knees. She just managed to hold on to him, and he supported her as he had always done. As a rider and as a partner.

The riders and ponies cheered her, and that felt good. She was a mare now, not a filly anymore. She was a real Farm pony, she was claimed, and she would race.

“You can’t wait to race, right?” Charles asked, amused.

“Not a minute,” she grinned, but every step sent a throb of pain through her. She knew it wouldn’t be today or tomorrow, but soon enough, she would be racing. And she would win.

Charles just smiled and led her to the stables.

 

All the ponies of the herd, as well as their riders, met again in the stable.

Mindy was there, too, with the vet, advising the riders how to care for their ponies’ brands. They used ice packs to cool down the branding and sports drinks to counter the shock and keep them hydrated. Burn cream was applied as much as smoothing words and cuddles.

As much as the ponies felt the hurt of their brand, they also felt elated to have it. They looked at each other’s brands, and a mirror was provided so they could see their own. They had seen it on the other mares and stallions before, but this was theirs, their own.

Each brand was different. Each had the Farm crest as well as the crest of their rider.

All the ponies were still in a rollercoaster of emotions and recovering from the branding. The pain of the brand was countered by the happiness of having done it and the finality of their own decision, as well as their riders' happiness to have them as their pony.

When everyone had calmed down from the emotional impact of the ceremony and the pain meds had kicked in, Mindy clapped her hands to get their attention. “Congratulations, my ponies. You are now mares and a stallion. You are true Farm ponies. My duty finishes here. You are now the property of your riders.”

Then she turned around and went away quickly. Nobody should see what a sob she really was. It happened every bloody year. Every time she said these words, she started to tear up. Maybe because she wasn’t able to have kids, and these ponies were her adopted kids for four months per year. Every darn year, she promised herself not to care too much for them, but it always happened.

She would see them soon anyway. In the main stable, at the pool, and in the house.

She would soon retire, and Melissa would take over with Andrea. She had some ideas she wanted to try out with the next herd, including a lead mare. That had worked out much better than she had hoped. Melissa just needed to get her shit together and learn properly.

She would go and take Bheki for a long drive and then find a nice place and let him fuck her properly for as long as she could take him and then sleep for a week. She had earned it.

The ponies watched Mindy as she went out the door. She had been the only constant for the first two months, and it was hard to see her go. They knew she would be around, but still, it had been a long and hard road for them all, and they had become close to her. But their riders distracted them by making sure their brand was okay and supporting them emotionally.

Melissa nudged Andrea’s bridle. “Gorgeous, I think it’s a pool day. You look pale, you need rest and… I haven’t forgotten... ice cream. You have earned it. You are so pretty with my brand, and I’m so happy and proud. Come.”  Melissa knew exactly what she needed. Andrea neighed approval and came along willingly.

 

Penelope took Maria’s bit out. “I want my partner to relax for a bit before we go to see your father and your sister. You have been waiting to see them for a long time.”

Maria smiled. “I’m happy to wait to see them until we finish making love... I need you. I’ll even give you that spanking I promised. But tomorrow, your pony needs exercising.“

 

Henry took George to a quiet corner and removed his bit. “You have no idea how afraid I was that you might run.” He did not seem like his usual self. He seemed vulnerable. “I need you in my life. So I ask you, instead of demanding it. Do you want to marry me? If you don’t, that’s fine. We can just live together.”

“No, it’s not. I want to be your husband. Without your strength, I will get lost again. I don’t want that.”

Without another word, Henry turned George around, removing his tail and slowly and gently, he inserted his dick into him. George bent slightly forward so Henry had better access. This was his rider, his husband. He wanted to belong to him.

“Thanks, love. I’m yours, just like you’re mine.” Henry said and then bit and kissed his neck while he played with his stiff dick, making George whinny softly with pleasure. Henry wanted him as his pony and as his partner; that was all that mattered. He was not bothered by the rest. They would figure it out together.

 

Julia was pulling at her lead. Now that the pain meds had stopped the worst pain, she wanted to get started training.

“OK, OK, OK. But Henry just gave me an idea that you might like to consider...” Julia stopped pulling and smiled. She had time for that. She deserved a treat.

Their lives as Farm ponies had just begun.

The End of The Farm

But we have more.....look next Monday

The next two weeks were a bit chaotic. Silvia moved in with Gill and Donny permanently. Helena and the twins moved in with her dad.

Sharing closet space with Gill was a new experience for Silvia, especially as Gill insisted that from now on, she should dress better and updated Silvia’s wardrobe. Especially the underwear. Living with Donny full time also made her watch her weight. Donny cooked really well, and Silvia liked it a bit too much. But then they both had to get used to her weird choices of music.

Lots of changes. Lots of things she needed to adapt to.

One of these changes was triggered by their next customisation.

Serra had booked a dismemberment—something Silvia still found fascinating but couldn’t admit to herself.

Alexandra had sat her down beforehand to go over the details, what it meant, and how they would do it. Silvia had already realised that customisation required planning and way more preparation than normal slaughter.

Alexandra not only made her study the textbooks dealing with the medical implications of dismemberment, but also made her train on the carcasses they butchered. Where the major arteries were, how to avoid them, how to cut to make it less or more painful. She had to learn both.

“Most women who choose dismemberment have no idea how much it hurts or how much it bleeds,” Alexandra told her. “Some can stand it, but most can’t. I once had a woman who actually licked her own Cunt once before fainting from blood loss. She died with a smile, but that was an exception; the reality is very different. Anyway, most don’t last that long or use their safe word because it’s too much or not what they had envisioned. They all have these fantasies until they meet the reality of the knife and the pain. Be prepared for that. When she uses her safe word, the closest of us to her cuts her throat.”

Silvia’s eyes widened. “But... but... I’m not—”

“No. You’re not,” Alexandra said firmly. “But this isn’t about you or the law. It’s only about the woman suffering too much. If you are closer, you cut.” Alexandra’s voice left no room for debate, and Silvia could only nod.

“I know you can do it. We’ve trained for this.” Alexandra took Silvia’s hand. “The only difference is that Serra will be level, not upside down. So you’ll need to grab her hair, jerk her head as hard as you can to the side, and then cut deep. It’s important so she doesn’t drown on her own blood—it just adds panic to her awareness, and we don’t want that. If you can cut through the spine, do it. If the head comes off, even better. Repeat it back to me.”

Silvia shuddered but did as instructed. Alexandra continued: “Okay. During the normal slaughters from now on, you will take the heads. Use it to train. They’ll be dead at that stage, so you’ll practice the jerk, the cut... and see if you can cut the head clear off. Got it?”

As the day of Serra’s slaughter came closer, Silvia got slightly nervous. She had never killed a woman before. She might have to today, and the thought made her uneasy all of a sudden. She didn’t feel ready, but she understood the reasoning. If it came down to Serra suffering too much, she would have to step in. For Serra’s sake, she couldn’t hesitate.

But her hesitation gnawed at her. It was her job. She had signed up for that. She would have to kill. How could she be afraid of that? Why was she afraid of that? These women had to die. There was no other option for them, and Silvia had signed up to do it. Better her than some line butcher who didn’t even know their names.

It took her a while to find the root of her fear. She wasn’t afraid to kill. She was afraid to fail the woman. Make her needlessly suffer. So Silvia did what she always did. Learn.

The training was harder than she had anticipated, particularly learning how much force to use when trying to slice a head off. The first head was more difficult than she’d expected, but she improved with each one. By the third, she successfully took the head clear off. It felt strange—like the first time she had held Nancy’s head. She realised how far she had come. She had witnessed hundreds of slaughters by now, and butchered just as many carcasses.

During check-in, Serra was nervous and twitchy, but once the door closed, she started talking, and that seemed to relax her. Silvia saw Serra’s body with a butcher’s eye: full boobs, slightly sagging, good arse. Her Shoulders would have been better with more muscle, but her Shanks were good. But for the first time Silvia could tell what this woman needed. She needed to confess, to share, to talk. Alexandra was rubbing off.

“I’ve always been fascinated by it. I’m sorry... but...” She shook her head. “I want you to understand... I want to see it.” She smirked, a faint gleam in her eyes. “I used to buy Tits and Cunts, stare at them, compare them to mine. I’d hold them next to my own, feel them, feel mine. I know it’s weird, but... it turned me on.” She blushed a bit.

“No, Serra, it’s fine. I actually did that too,” Silvia admitted for the first time in her life. “I couldn’t buy them, but I stared at them. I was fascinated. So much so that I became a Girl Butcher.”

Serra smiled and nodded, her voice filled with relief. “Thanks. Really. I thought I was sick.”

“No, darling, you’re not,” Alexandra added warmly. “You’re safe with us. We’ll give you what you want.”

“Thanks. Now that I have to be slaughtered, I might as well see what they look like... for real,” Serra said, a gleam in her eyes.

Silvia understood Serra. She knew exactly what she wanted.

They strapped Serra onto St Andrew’s Cross, tying her down completely. “We’re going to start by making you cum to relax you and help you get in the mood,” Alexandra said.

“Um...” Serra hesitated, unsure.

Alexandra stepped closer, her voice smooth and reassuring. “What’s wrong, darling? Change of plan? That’s okay. We’ll do it however you want. We have time.”

“No... but... can she cut them off?” Serra asked, looking at Silvia.

Alexandra smiled knowingly. “It’s more arousing for you if she does it, right?”

Serra nodded shyly, her face flushing red. Alexandra turned to Silvia, who hesitated but took a deep breath and nodded. If this was what Serra wanted, she would do it.

Silvia pulled out her knife. Serra’s eyes focused on her knife, and Silvia could see how much it aroused her. Leaning closer, Silvia saw Serra’s breath quicken and her lips part as she licked them. Serra wanted to be kissed. Slowly, Silvia kissed her. Serra moaned into the kiss, her want obvious. Alexandra began using her fingers and a vibrator to get Serra going.

Silvia broke the kiss and traced her knife over Serra’s breasts, lightly stroking her nipples with her blade. Serra moaned, surprising Silvia with her response, but Silvia understood. She was here for Serra—for her pleasure. When Silvia pressed the knife’s edge against Serra’s hard nipple, she gasped.

“Cut them!” Serra shouted, arching her back with the ecstasy that Alexandra produced between her legs. “Please, make them Tits! Let me suck on my own nipple! On my clit!” she screamed, trembling in her orgasm.

Silvia looked down at Alexandra, who nodded. Silvia took a deep breath and set the knife. She had cut Tit before, but never off a living body. Silvia forced herself to break the skin of Serra’s boob and make the cut. Serra screamed and thrashed. Silvia focused, blocking out Serra’s suffering, and made the cut as quickly as she could. It was disturbing to cut a living woman, but she had committed to cutting, and she wouldn’t stop now. The lesson had been learnt. Once you pick up the knife, you don’t put it down until the job is done.

It wasn’t a premium cut that preserved most of the breast and underlying muscles; it was fast, designed to get the Tit off quickly. It took mere seconds. Serra screamed, and then her Tit was off. Silvia held the severed Tit so Serra could see it. Serra was breathing hard, crying, and sobbing, her eyes filled with pain. It took her a moment to focus—just as Alexandra had said it would. They never truly understood how much it would hurt.

But it wasn’t only Serra who understood. Silvia did now, too. She had never made anyone suffer, scream, cry, or sob. Never. It affected her. It was horrifying to make someone suffer.

After a moment, Serra focused. “Oh! It’s my Tit. It’s my Tit in your hand,” she stammered, fascinated despite the sobs, looking between the severed Tit and the space on her body where it had been seconds ago. Silvia could see her excitement and elation. It helped Silvia a little, knowing that Serra was excited about it. It wasn’t her role to judge this; she only needed to help her fulfil her dream as much as possible.

“Let me touch it. Hold it,” Serra said. Silvia moved the Tit into Serra’s hand, letting her hold it. Silvia had held so many Tits by now that she could tell how they would feel just by looking at them. But she wondered—would it feel different if it were her own?

Serra looked down at herself, at the empty space where her boob had been, and at the Tit in her hand. “It’s still warm,” Serra exclaimed with ecstasy as Alexandra masturbated her again. Silvia placed her knife on Serra’s stomach, stroked her remaining breast, and pinched its nipple while Serra held and caressed her severed Tit. Serra stared between her breast and her severed Tit. “She’s so beautiful. Oh! I love her.” But then she sobbed hard. “But this hurts so much. It still hurts.”

“I know,” Silvia said, stroking the tears from Serra’s face, then brushed her hand over Serra’s remaining breast. ”You’re doing well, Serra. Want to suck your nipple? You said you wanted to do that,” Silvia said, continuing to play with Serra’s breast. She placed the Tit’s nipple on Serra’s mouth. Serra sucked on it eagerly as Silvia bent down and sucked on Serra’s remaining nipple. Serra moaned and sucked harder. Together, they brought Serra to orgasm again while she sucked on her Tit’s nipple and Silvia on her remaining breast.

“I want to see them both, hold them...but I’m afraid. This will hurt so much,” Serra sobbed.

Silvia stroked her face. “Yes, darling, it will. Use your safe word if it’s too much. Okay?”

Serra nodded, and Silvia returned the severed Tit to Serra’s hand. If it fell, it would not be an issue. The floor was spotless and sanitised. She had made sure of that.

Silvia moved to Serra’s remaining breast. “Ready?” she asked softly.

Serra sobbed. “It will hurt so much... it will hurt so much.”

“Cut,” commanded Alexandra, and Silvia obeyed without hesitation. She made the same fast, non-premium cut. Serra was single, so Silvia cut for her, not for display or meat grade.

Serra screamed and thrashed harder but clung desperately to her first severed Tit. Silvia had counted on that to distract her. Then it was done. Silvia could see that Serra was exhausted and wouldn’t last much longer. Silvia took the first Tit and held both for Serra to see.

“Serra, they are so beautiful. Look how amazing your Tits are. You can be so proud of them. They’re A-grade Tits,” Silvia said gently. Serra smiled weakly, sobbing. In truth, they weren’t—her Tits had been B-grade, and the cuts had reduced them to C. But that didn’t matter now.

Serra was breathing hard, her smile trembling between deep sobs. She breathed several times deeply, trying to focus. Then she said in a faltering voice, “I can’t... more... I want to hold them... please.”

“Let her hold her Tits,” Alexandra said quietly. “I’m coming.”

Silvia nodded. It was clear Serra had reached her limit. She placed the severed Tits into Serra’s hands. Serra looked pleased, gazing down at them in her hands, a faint smile on her otherwise pain-streaked face. “They’re... beautiful.”

“Yes, Serra, they are. They’re your beautiful Tits. You did so well. I’m so proud of you,” Silvia said, stroking her head and wiping away her tears.

“Eat... them... with love,” Serra said, her voice urgent, stammering through the pain as Alexandra approached her head.

“Yes, Serra. I will eat your beautiful Tits, I promise. I’ll eat them with the people I love, and they will love your gift.”

A faint, satisfied smile crossed Serra’s face before she mumbled, “Apricot,” her safe word.

“Serra, you are loved,” Alexandra said as she swiftly slit Serra’s throat, angling her head to the side. Blood pumped out in an arc, and Serra gurgled. Alexandra plunged the knife deeper, severing the spinal cord with a distinct crack. Her head came off, and Alexandra held it in her arms as you would a baby.

Serra’s body didn’t struggle much; it was already too exhausted from trauma and blood loss. Her eyes closed, and her body exhaled one last time.

“You are loved, Serra,” Alexandra repeated.

Serra’s hands released her severed Tits, and they fell to the floor. Silvia picked them up and gently laid them on Serra’s chest, folding Serra’s lifeless hands over them.

After pronouncing Serra dead, Alexandra turned to Silvia. “How are you doing?”

Silvia struggled to find the words. “I feel like I lost someone—someone I cared about,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Alexandra nodded. “It’s like that. You had a connection with her. Now you understand. The longer you’re with them before you have to kill them, the harder it is afterwards.” She placed a comforting hand on Silvia’s shoulder. “But she got everything she could have wanted.”

“No, not yet,” Silvia said, resolute. “I’ll make sure her Tits will be delicious and celebrated.”

Alexandra nodded. “Take her Cunt too. She would have loved that.”

That evening, Silvia prepared Serra’s gifts. She had decided to take time to look at and gently stroke Serra’s Tits and Cunt, just as Serra had done with the ones she had bought. Silvia knew Serra was gone and that it didn’t matter to her anymore—but it mattered to Silvia. It mattered that this was done right, that her wishes were honoured. She had spent a long time cutting Serra’s Cunt out to perfection; even Helena had been impressed.

The only thing that mattered was to honour the dead, even if they only cared as they died. That was the important point. Silvia remembered her own fake slaughter and the moment she had let go. That moment had made everything before irrelevant. She had felt so good and peaceful in her final second, and that was what truly mattered.

When her partners came home, they were astounded at what they found. Silvia had set the table for a full dinner. There were wine glasses, the good china – Silvia had made it special.

Before they could say anything, Silvia took charge. “Guys, this is special. I need you to take this seriously. It’s very important to me... and to Serra.”

Donny looked confused but nodded, while Gill came closer and stroked her arm. “Talk to us, baby...”

She was right. “These are Serra’s Tits and her Cunt,” Silvia said, her voice steady. “She wanted me to care for them and share them with the people I love.”

Donny frowned, trying to understand. “How come she asked you that?”

“She had no family, no one who would appreciate them. She customised...” Silvia censored herself a bit; this was not the time for the cruel details. “The way I had to cut them off reduced the meat grade. They would have ended up as mince. I couldn’t let that happen, so I promised her I would share them with my loved ones and appreciate them.”

Gill raised her wine glass, which was filled with water, and Donny raised his glass of wine. “To Serra—her beautiful Tits, her amazing Cunt.”

Silvia smiled and lifted her glass too. “Thanks, guys. This means a lot to me. Serra suffered so she could see her own Tits and feel them. And she loved them. It’s important to me that we celebrate her choice and her meat.” She looked them in the eyes. “Thanks. To Serra, her Tits, her Cunt, her life, the courage she had to see it through.”

They drank, and Silvia felt how these two complemented her. How she complemented them. They were a true unit. Committed.

“Baby,” Gill said softly, “I think I finally understand better why you do your job the way you do.” She looked down at the plated meat, then back at Silvia. “You don’t just slaughter women. You honour them and their wishes. You see them. You respect them. You make sure they’re more than just meat—even when that’s all that’s left of them in the end. I didn’t get that before.”

She touched Silvia’s wrist gently, her voice steady. “Serra is dead. She’s meat. She doesn’t care anymore. But she died knowing you cared. That’s what matters. That’s the difference. You give them peace before the end. Dignity.”

Silvia nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “Yes, I do. I knew her for maybe twenty minutes... but I care.”

Donny met her gaze. “And you finally said it—you love us.”

Silvia blinked in surprise, then grinned. She hadn’t realised it before. “Yes. I love you both—I do,” she said, saying it out loud and deliberately, for the first time.

Gill said it first, and Donny followed a heartbeat later. “We love you too.”

“Enough,” Silvia said resolutely, brushing tears from her face. “We have time for that later. Now, we need to celebrate Serra.”

And so they ate, praising Serra’s Girl meat and her gift.

Later, when they sat together on the couch enjoying the rest of the wine, Gill’s water, and a snack, Donny asked her directly, “You cut them off while she was alive? I thought you weren’t allowed to kill... yet.”

Gill stopped dipping sardines into strawberry jam. Gill had cravings. Strange ones. But they both catered to them, even if some were outright disgusting. “While she... That...” Gill’s eyes filled with pain as she tried to imagine it.

“It hurt a lot, but she wanted it; she wanted to see her boobs become Tits. She even wanted to see her pussy become a Cunt... but...” Silvia took a deep breath. “It’s a fantasy. The pain... the blood loss... I did my best to make it as fast as I could. And no, I’m not allowed to kill. She safe-worded, and Alex ended her pain.”

“But you will kill,” Donny stated.

“Yes, I will. Helena is pushing me hard to take my exams as fast as possible. Then she wants me to do my Master qualification.”

“Your Master? What for?” asked Gill, eyeing the sardine.

“So I can teach.” Silvia had not really had time to reflect on Helena’s words yet, but she knew it made sense, somehow. The more Silvia thought about it, the more she agreed. She wanted to teach, wanted to make sure that more women would be treated with respect by other women.

Donny took another sip from the amazing wine Silvia had bought for Serra's celebration. “Helena is right. You need to teach, to train. Gill is right. You care. We need more people who care.”

“Yes, baby. Today showed me who I’m in love with. Who I want to raise our child with.” She leaned over to Silvia to be kissed, but Silvia gently pushed her back.

“Honey... I love you... dearly... but brush your teeth... please.”

A few weeks later, at one of the family dinners where Silvia’s partners and her dad’s new family came together, the twins pulled her aside and into her old room. It had changed totally, just like her. She was happy about that.

“Sis... how did you know you liked girls and guys?” Pen asked finally.

“It wasn’t easy. Took me a long time and many tears. I had no mother when I grew up, and my dad was no help at all. He only put his finger in his ears and didn’t want to know.” Silvia smirked as she remembered that incident. ”Why? Are you unsure?”

Both nodded. She hadn’t been older than they were now when she had her first experiences with sex. Most girls did, wanting to experience sex and love before their Letter could come and take it all away. Like it had for Eve. Silvia studied the twins, seeing them as they were—young women having to live with the burden that they could be slaughtered.

Helena’s and Donny’s words came back to her. To teach. She could feel it now, looking at Penelope and Pamela. They wanted to know more, and Silvia wanted to tell them, but then she realised she wasn’t the right person.

“You need to talk to Alexandra. She’s the right person to teach you what you want to know. I don’t have enough experience.” She sighed. “Before Donny and Gill, I only had very short flings. I’m still learning what I want and like. But Alex knows. Trust me.”

The twins looked at each other for a moment. Pen opened up. “Yeah...see...Mum warned us that Aunt Alex is not the person to talk to about sex.”

Silvia smirked. “And that didn’t make you wonder? Really? Listen. As your big sister, I’ll tell you everything I know. You can always talk to me—about anything, anytime.”

So they started talking like girlfriends, like sisters, like she and Nancy used to. They talked about sex, girls and boys and what they liked.

Later that week, the twins arranged another meeting with her, this time at the beach. Silvia was happy about that. It was nice to talk girl stuff with them, and they made her feel the way she imagined an older sister should feel. Also, it filled one of the many holes Nancy had left behind.

“So... did you talk to Alex?” Silvia asked, waving hello.

“Yes, we did. She will take us to a club and show us... oh, you need to cover for us, Sis,” Pen said, but Silvia could feel there was something else going on. She smirked to herself—she had started to pick up more subtext since working with Alexandra.

But a club with Alex... that was... No. She trusted Alexandra. She knew Alex would never endanger the twins. Alex and Helena had known each other long before the twins were born, though they'd never spoken about their past. Alexandra was more of an aunt to them than just their mother’s friend.

“OK. I will come up with a cover story. Now what’s really going on?”

The twins looked at each other for a moment, unsure, but then Pen opened up.

“A friend of ours got her Letter.” It had clearly shaken them both. Pam added, looking down, “Can you talk to Linda? Please. She is terrified, and she came to us because... well, because of Mum... but we don’t know many details.”

Silvia agreed immediately, without even thinking. Pen waved her over, and Linda came. She was as young as the twins and clearly shaken. Silvia had got used to women who were just of slaughterable age. It wasn’t easy—but she had to, for them.

Silvia took her hand, grounding Linda. “I know you’re scared,” she said gently. “But you’re not alone. I could get my Letter too. I’m not exempt. Nobody is. Pen and Pam aren’t either. They could be next.”

Linda’s face relaxed a bit, and she breathed easier. Talking directly helped. She didn’t understand why people assumed Girl Butchers were exempt. Nobody was. It didn’t matter who you were or what you did.

“I saw a Processing Centre on the school trip. Its…” She gulped.

“The facility I work at is very different from the Processing Centre you saw on your school trip. No loud machines, no industrial set-up, no lines of naked women. With us, it’s personal. We care about you. There will be only four other women with you, but just for the preparation; it’s easier not to feel alone in this. But you won’t see or hear what happens to them. Everyone has their own room, their own Butchers who will make sure it’s easy, painless, and quick.”

Linda nodded, and Silvia felt how she breathed deeper.

“Your slaughter will be easy and not scary at all.” Silvia could feel how she twitched as she said ‘slaughter’, but Silvia had to; she needed to start accepting what would be happening to her. “We will make you cum, and while you cum, you will drift off into nothing. You won’t feel any pain, just the pleasure of your orgasm. I promise. The more you can let go into your orgasm, the easier it will be.”

That seemed to worry her. She probably didn’t have much experience with sex yet.

“I know it feels weird to cum in front of others. But think about it. You don’t have to feel ashamed of it. No one’s judging you, and you won’t remember anything anyway. And it helps—it makes everything easier. Believe me.”

Slowly, Linda relaxed a bit and nodded. Nancy had been Silvia’s age; still, it had been hard for her. Linda was less than two years younger than Silvia. Silvia felt so old. So much had happened. She hoped that Linda would be able to accept that she would be slaughtered and able to let go.

“Would you do it?” Linda finally asked shyly and with a lump in her throat. She breathed through it, closing her eyes for a second. “Slaughter me.”

Silvia nodded. “Yes. I will be there with you. You have nothing to fear. I’ll make it easy and painless for you. If you want, your family or your friends can be there with you too.”

She shook her head. “I... if... Naked... Cum... I can’t. No, I... No...” She was clearly ashamed. It was normal for a young woman like that. “But you will be there? Please?”

Silvia pressed her hand. “All the way. Do you want me to set it up for you?”

Linda looked at the ground, then back at Silvia. Her lips parted, but no words came. She just nodded. She was taking control back. That was good. It would help her in the end.

Silvia called Ramona and set up Linda’s slaughter, making sure she would be assigned to Helena and her. Linda looked relieved, but Silvia also could feel the bottomless pit that had opened up in her. Her slaughter had become reality, with a date and a time.

“Go home. Talk to your parents. Do whatever you’ve always dreamed to do.” Silvia smiled. “I personally would get drunk and have as much sex as I could. Live large and bold.”

Linda nodded. “Thanks... Maybe... I haven’t.” She blushed. Pam took Linda’s other hand. “We can talk about it, Linda. We have a few days. We will help you... if you want that.”

Silvia nodded. “That’s a good idea. Linda, just do whatever you want. Nothing matters anymore.”

That seemed to help, and Linda relaxed again. “This is... hard.”

“I know, it is hard. But you have no other choice. I’m sorry.”

Linda shook her head. “No. You gave me one. Thanks... thanks for talking to me. For telling me how it will be. Not knowing... was scary.”

The twins left with Linda, helping her prepare to talk to her parents — and, very likely, about sex. Keeping her mind occupied. Silvia stayed sitting on the beach, looking out over the ocean. Then she picked up her phone and sent a text to Helena:

‘I want to teach. I want my Master.’

The Farm - Chapter 12 – Working Together

The metal banging woke them up, like every morning.

Penelope was still asleep in Maria’s arms. Maria shook her carefully, and Penelope woke up. How could she have slept through that banging?

“Oh shit. I overslept. I haven’t slept that well in ages….Oh, Good Morning Mindy.” she said sheepishly.

Mindy had opened Maria’s stall, and she stood there with arms akimbo.

“Oh, I really want to hear that excuse. Penelope, you should know better.”

“I’m absolutely terrified of thunderstorms, and my pony is too. I could see it on the monitor. You were afraid, too, right?”

Maria nodded her head firmly. She had been, until Pen came to her and wanted her protection. It was still strange that her rider wanted her protection, and because she gave it, she wasn’t afraid herself anymore. She had never slept through a thunderstorm before.

Mindy stared at them. Maria had her arms still around Pen, holding Pen protectively in her nightshirt.

“You are getting five strokes with the cane, Penelope. Just after morning feed and before we set off with the sulky.”

Penelope swallowed hard, and Maria gasped, tightening her arms around her rider and partner.

“It’s all right, darling. I can take it. Worth it.” And she cuddled her pony back before she got up and left.

Mindy would have liked to overlook this one if Penelope had managed to sneak out unnoticed. But the other ponies were awake and knew. It wasn’t fair to them. They had spent weeks by themselves, alone in their hay.

She had known, of course. Nothing happened in the stall she didn’t know of. There were monitors, so riders knew when something was wrong with their pony, but she had access to all of them as well as extra sensors. One of them had registered and alarmed her that Pen had entered Maria’s stall. She had also seen that Maria had been in serious distress and had already put her raincoat on to come down and comfort her when Pen entered her stall. Some things, like phobias, needed to be addressed immediately to ensure they produced a stable pony.

She was happy that Pen had done it and faced the consequences, but she could never acknowledge it; she was the head trainer and had to keep the reins short on riders and ponies. Penelope’s action had deepened their bond as partners and as rider and pony. That was the important thing. Penelope’s caning would solidify it. It would be something they would remember until the end of their days.

She also knew of the yellow scarf for Andrea. She pretended not to notice it. Andrea was doing a good job of always trying to face her so she wouldn't see. Good effort. The secret between them built a stronger bond.

After the morning feed, Mindy ordered Penelope to bend over one of the benches and pull down her trousers and panties.

“She spent the night with her pony in the hay. That’s not allowed. She will get five strokes.”

Mindy delivered five medium strokes. Enough to make Penelope cry out and leave some stripes on her arse, but not hard enough to stay with her for more than a day or two.

After she was finished and Penelope pulled her trousers back up but was still sobbing, Maria stepped forward and bent over the same spot.

“No, Darling, it was my fault.” But Maria stood her ground and stomped. Mindy grinned inwardly. This had worked out better than she could have hoped. They had developed a very strong bond indeed.

She also gave her five medium ones, which left her sobbing. Afterwards, the rider and her pony cuddled hard.

They did sulky today again, using the easy one and doing a long drive. It already went much better. The riders listened to their ponies better. Especially when it came to the hills.

“OK, slow down. Slow and steady. Shake your head if it’s too hard; I’ll get off.” No! Andrea didn’t want her to get off. She wanted to make this work. She grunted hard. “OK, Got it. Andrea! Move it!” And she used the whip on her arse, and that helped.

Julia became much better. She really leaned into it. “Steady. We don’t need you to strain something.” He was her rider, so she listened to him and let off a bit.

George simply moved uphill while Henry instructed him how to set his hooves and hold his back. Slow and steady as if he was pulling the plough. They were the last up, but that didn’t matter.

“That was well done, George. You get a filly later.” He neighed loudly, letting the fillies know that he would claim one of them.

Pen got out of the sulky and guided her uphill. “This should be fun, not a stress.” Maria liked that. Her arse hurt already from the caning. Penelope whispered. “It’s easier to walk than sit. I had not been caned for a long time, and it actually turned me on a bit. So, next break, you will have to satisfy me.”

Maria would like that. Make her rider cum and feel better. She would like to come too, and hoped her rider would make that happen. But she wouldn't need to worry. Her Pen allowed the colt to cover her.

They went to the pool again after the long drive. Even the village was not as scary anymore, not even when Mindy made them stop and water the ponies at the fountain in the marketplace. The ponies started feeling less out of place and got used to the people around them.

They played a game of ball, riders against ponies. The riders had their hands bound behind their backs to make it fair. The ponies won by quite a margin.

The evening was once again partner time. The ponies needed to learn how to function in society while maintaining their pony identity, making partner time extremely important. For the ponies, it was a chasm they had to cross. During pony time, they were punished for any mistakes, while in partner time, they were merely reprimanded but mostly rewarded when they did something right. Then, after partner time, they had to return to submit to the will of their rider, the crop or the whip. It wasn’t easy, and each pony struggled with it in their own way.

This time, dinner included more people socialising with other ponies and riders.

Melissa had laid out clothes for Andrea again. A lovely dress, a black lacy bra, no panties, but a glass butt plug.

“So you remember who you belong to,” Melissa commented on the raised eyebrows of her partner, seeing the plug.

“I know very well who I belong to. I have your whip welts on my back and arse.”

“Yes, and I enjoyed putting them there,” Melissa stated. “Listen, if you don’t want to wear the plug, tell me. I know you want me to rule our marriage, but I need an equally strong partner, too.”

“Fine. But you need to have the final say. I don’t feel secure with my decisions.”

Her decisions in the past had been all wrong. Studying, the bullshit she had pulled in university, her choice of friends that turned out to be not friends at all. The list was endless.

Melissa took her in her arms and kissed her. Andrea leaned into that kiss, enjoying the intimacy. “You already like that much better.”

“Maybe…” She said facetiously, not wanting to admit it.

Melissa laughed. “OK. Sure. Want to put the plug into me instead?”

Penelope had ordered a complete dinner setting for two to be brought to her room. “We’re eating here? I thought…”

Maria’s doubts surfaced again. Didn’t Penelope want to be seen with her?

“No, that’s only for you to learn how to use all the silverware. You said I should show you.” Pen asked defensively and a bit unsure.

Maria’s doubts washed away. Speaking of washing… this had been bothering her a bit, so she took a breath and just said it.

“I want to shower you and wash your hair. You need cream on your cane strokes, and your hair is still all messy from sleeping in the hay with me. This won’t do.”

“OK, Darling.” Penelope agreed demurely. Maria started to see that Penelope wanted her to speak up and...and what?

Penelope interrupted her thoughts. “Why did you want to get caned, too?” she asked.

“Equal partner, equal pain. I had never slept through a thunderstorm before. Why did you seek protection from me, from your pony? “

“Because you provide it, darling. You are a strong partner and a stronger pony.” She wasn’t sure that was true, but they would work it out. She liked to be both, but she didn’t feel that way. Yet.

After Maria washed Penelope’s hair and made it look like she wanted Pen to look, Penelope guided her through the array of eating utensils.

George and Henry did gym together again. They really enjoyed working out as partners; it helped George tire out his body, and Henry liked watching his muscles at work.

“Do you mind me calling you ‘love’?” Henry asked all of a sudden.

George stopped bench pressing. Henry was spotting him. “No, why? Cause I’m not gay?”

Other people were in the gym, too, but George didn’t care; he had stopped long ago. He knew what he was now, and he knew what he could have become. He was better here. Better with Henry.

“If my parents hadn’t kicked me out, I could be dead from drugs and alcohol. I could have rebelled and been sold as a slave by them and probably be dead by now. They could have taken my balls, and I don’t even want to think about that.”

“So I’m the lesser of many evils? Is that how you feel?” Henry sounded sad.

George stood up. Flexed his shoulder and pushed a surprised Henry against the wall rather strong. “You want to know how I really feel?”

And then he kissed him. He wasn’t good at it and wasn’t sure he liked it better than kissing a woman, but he liked Henry. “You give me something that no one ever gave me. Love. That is what counts. I like you taking me any way you want. Making me yours. Showing me how much you want me.”

Julia and Charles had a long shower together, something she had never done with a man, and she liked it. “It’s not fair that we can’t have sex.” She complained.

“Yeah, I know; I’m all stiff and hot.”

“You can fuck me and leave your cum in my arse tomorrow morning before you put my tail in.” she said, not shyly at all. She liked sex, and especially when he fucked her into her arsehole. Why would she hide that? She had become wet when Henry did that to George that morning. She had fantasised about that a lot.

“You like it in your arse that much?”

“Yes, but I want that to be only you. Any colt and stallion can fuck my vulva. But my arsehole should be for you only. For my rider, for my husband.”

He smirked happily as she leaned against him. They needed to get out of this shower and go to dinner. This was a recipe for getting their arses caned.

The dinner was more challenging than the ponies thought. Their partner was on one side, and a stranger was on the other side. With clothes, nobody knew if it was a rider or pony.

After the initial fright, they managed to talk. It was easiest for Andrea and George. They had been raised in such environments.

Melissa nudged Andrea and whispered, “You are not at one of these parties anymore. Pipe down. I don’t like that.”

“Yes…sorry… Melissa.”

Melissa smiled. She put her hand under the table on her knee, sliding it slowly up her thigh.

Andrea slapped her hand. “You get caned.”

“Worth it. Hold still. That plug makes me horny. Don’t make a scene.”

And carefully, she moved her hand between her legs and to her bare vulva. Andrea had a hard time.

“No. Stop it. I can’t function when you do that. I’m your partner. If you want me to ‘pipe down’ you need to respect your partner’s boundaries.”

“Bossy. I like it,” Melissa said, satisfied, and just let her hand rest on her knee.

Penelope tried to help Maria by getting her to talk to their neighbours. “Maria is a survivalist. She lived in a slum for over a year and returned to tell the tale.”

Maria winced. It was a lie, and she hated lies—even half-truths like that. She understood what Penelope was doing, trying to involve her in talking to others, but lying only upset her. Maria wasn’t proud of being born and raised in the slums, but she was proud of what she had accomplished so far. It grated on her that Penelope made light of it. She had probably only been to the slums on one of those bus tours; she didn’t understand how harsh life there was or how hard it was for her to even sit at this table, trying to be someone she wasn’t.

She breathed in, focused, and smiled politely for everyone else before turning to Penelope and whispering, “I don’t like you lying. It makes me feel bad. I wish I could give you the crop for that.”

“hmmm….” Penelope replied, and Maria could sense an excitement in her tone. It left Maria confused.

Penelope turned back to their neighbour, her smile still fixed in place. “Did you know she’s excellent at dressage?”

Maria was perplexed. Was she telling her that her partner's wishes were irrelevant? What else could it mean that Penelope had lied on purpose this time and so badly?

Penelope kept her smile fixed for the audience, but as she leaned toward Maria, she whispered softly so only Maria could hear.

“You promised to give me the crop. I’d prefer a spanking… if that’s ok.”

Maria couldn't understand what was happening, but she had to, for Penelope. She needed a break; she couldn’t think. “Excuse me. I need to go… for little ponies.”

She more or less ran out of the room and stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall. She didn’t understand anymore. What was she supposed to do? The rules she believed in had just changed. Penelope wanted to be spanked by her? But she was her rider. It confused her, especially as she would like to do it.

Penelope caught up with her outside the door to the dining room. “You are not allowed on your own. Sorry, Darling.”

“I don’t understand. I’m your pony, and you want me to spank you?” Maria asked pleadingly.

“No, right now, you are my partner. My equal partner. I like a bit of pain and dominance from time to time from my partner. Is that all right? “ Pen asked shyly.

“As long as your pony has to suffer from time to time. “I was very disappointed you did not use the crop on me during our drive. Felt like you didn’t care anymore.”

“Oh. I see. I thought if I used the whip, it wouldn’t help as much as trying to motivate you. Should we go upstairs and talk about that?”

“No, we go back in. We have the rest of our lives to figure this out together. Right now, this,” and she pointed to the room. “scares me. I feel like any second they see I’m from the slums and kick me out. I need you to help me through it.”

“Nobody is kicking my wife out of anything. You belong here, with me.”

Penelope just took Maria’s hand, and they went back in.

Charles talked to their neighbours, and Julia watched how he did it. He used easy questions to involve her, and slowly, she built the confidence to speak to her neighbour alone.

“So, you want to become a race pony?” her neighbour asked her.

“Yes. We will win the Farm Cup.” Julia said proudly.

“I will be looking forward to seeing you race. You are unbranded?” He asked.

“She is, and she is mine. Any more questions in that regard… I’m happy to answer them outside.” Said Charles, smiling, but his tone was cold and with a promise of violence. It made Julia feel very protected and good.

The other rider held up a hand in apology. “Sorry, not what I meant. I was more asking to find out how much more time I have to train my pony up because I think she poses a real threat to me winning the cup again this year.”

“As soon as the iron sizzles on my butt cheek, I will start to train,” Julia said, challenging, and the rider and Charles laughed.

Henry talked to the woman next to him. “George is a good colt and good in bed and in the hay. So, if you want, after he is branded of course, let us know. I know your husband likes a guy from time to time. That would be me.” Henry stopped abruptly and turned to George. “Love, is group sex fine with you? I never asked. Sorry.”

“Sure, I would actually like that better. I like my partner with me.” And he laid a hand on Henry’s knee. Henry laid his hand on his. “And I like watching you having a woman. Other men, I won’t allow.” That worked even better for George.

The next day was dressage again. Maria still had issues with the beat. She struggled hard and was extremely unhappy.

Andrea remembered something. She walked over to Maria and stomped hard to get Melissa’s and Mindy’s attention. Then, she used one of her words; nobody had taken them away from her, so she figured she could still use them. “Solution,” she said through her bit.

Mindy came over. “Ok, can you show, or do you need to speak?”

Andrea was in pony mode; It wasn’t her place to speak. She had her arms free, and that was enough. She made Maria lift and lower her legs to the still playing music. Then Andrea used her hand to tap Maria’s arse in time, and Maria started lifting her legs more in time than ever before.

Mindy patted her. “You’re a good lead mare. How did you know that? Speak. This is important. I really need to know. I couldn't see it.”

“She danced that first evening. She needs physical leading.”

“That’s right! I saw her dance. Thanks, Andrea. You will be a great asset to your future wife. Ok, Penelope, give it a try.”

“Come on, Darling. Wow. Hey, that works. Thanks, Andrea.” And Penelope kissed Andrea on the mouth. A very irritated ‘Hey’ from Melissa and angry stomping from Maria stopped her.

“You are territorial?” A neigh and an “Absolutely” confirmed that, leaving both Penelope and Andrea very happy indeed.

It was a sulky day again, and they got better at it. Charles wanted to put Julia into a more advanced sulky, but Mindy disagreed. “Everyone is still the same. No special treats.”

Penelope asked. Penelope said, “So we all take the advanced one. Henry? Melissa?” They all agreed.

“Very funny. It’s not all about the riders,” Mindy said. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Andrea neighed, and all the ponies followed her lead. Mindy just smiled. As expected.

So they did the advanced one, and it was much harder. Easier to pull, as it was lighter and faster, but because of that, it needed way more fine control from both the pony and the rider.

The ponies’ arses ended up red from the driving whip before pony and rider finally found their rhythm.

A different surprise awaited the ponies when they came to the pool later. A new game.

One of the corrals was filled with stallions, and George was added as well. They were all fitted with blinker lenses, so they couldn't see.

Then, all the fillies and some mares were sprayed with pheromones and perfume and had to cross the corral without getting covered by the stallions that went wild with their smell. The riders bet on the outcome while the other ponies watched, stomping, neighing, and whinnying.

Maria didn’t make it far, and Penelope was sure it was on purpose. Andrea aggressively kicked and bit each stallion who came close that came close and made it through unfucked. Julia gave her best and made it three-quarters before two massive stallions cornered her. She did not have enough body mass to force her way through them, and they both took her one after another.

Before the riders could free their ponies, most of them got covered multiple times.

George was happy he had covered two mares or fillies; he didn’t know and didn’t care. What he liked best was Henry praising his efforts when Henry took the lenses out again.

Andrea had won, but had she really? She was a bit envious of the other fillies who had been covered again and again. She could see cum dripping out of Julia and a dreamy look on Maria. Anyway, she got a big treat. Her arms were freed, her bit was taken out, and she got a giant ice cream. Worth it. Ice cream topped sex. The next time they played that game, she lost and liked it, too, as she was covered by at least five stallions in a row. She had never been so satisfied before.

Dressage the next day went much better. They learned more and also added jumping to their repertoire. But Julia almost strained herself when she landed wrong after a very high jump.

“For fuck’s sake, Julia. That was reckless. Come here. You get cropped. Don’t do that ever again.” Charles put his foot down and gave her the crop until she was in tears.

Maria and Penelope worked better together in dressage. Penelope gave her the beat on her butt, and Maria did the best she could. It was a huge improvement.

Each evening, more and more different people became involved in their partner time. They danced and talked to others, with their partners encouraging or reining them in as required.

Sulky and dressage, socialising and partner time. Partner time slowly became longer.

The ponies got used to switching between being a pony and a partner, and their partnerships became more solidified.

Maria became more assertive and firmer with Penelope but still remained her pony when her bridle came on, expecting the same firm treatment. They worked well enough in dressage and sulky to have some fun, but they both were looking forward to doing their own thing, which was planning to get Maria pregnant.

Andrea liked her Melissa running her life. Andrea loved dressage; she liked it a lot, and Melissa had learned to work with her. They even started to try the blind version of it.

George and Henry solidified their plans for living together and their new life. They missed the plough, but they did the best they could. Henry trained George in marching steps, which looked good on him, and he could follow them.

Julia made a lot of progress becoming a partner, but she was still a crazy pony Charles sometimes had trouble reining in. She seriously put a lot into racing. Every time they were out driving, she went nuts, and Charles had a hard time keeping her from overdoing it.

One day, a spontaneous race broke out among the riders in the sulkies. Of course, Julia had started it, and for once, Charles let her have her way. Melissa put the whip to Andrea’s arse to make her catch up. “Come on, Gorgeous. We can beat them. You beat her, you get ice cream.”

Melissa’s whip helped, but the promise of ice cream...

Andrea grunted and pulled hard. “Wow…I’m marrying an ice cream-obsessed pony!” She laughed as Andrea’s sudden acceleration surprised her.

Henry let his whip hit George’s arse hard. “Love. Come on. The fillies are taking the lead. You beat them. I’ll let you cover anything with a wet vulva.” Nobody had to ask George twice.

Mindy whipped Bheki, and the huge stallion started to accelerate. “You wanted to fuck me in the arse. You win, you can.” And Bheki pulled even harder, gaining ground.

Penelope laughed as the other sulkies pulled away from them.“I think we’re good as we are. Aren’t we?” And Maria neighed in agreement. Ice cream, sex. No, that didn't work for her. She liked to cruise along with Penelope and get the whip across her arse from time to time; that was way more fun.

Julia was clearly winning; Charles didn’t even have to use the whip to make her run like hell. But second place was still open between Andrea and George. They raced down the laneway head-to-head.

“Make second, and you get your ice cream.” Andrea put everything she had left into it, but George had more muscle and endurance.

Suddenly, George fell back, and she heard Henry curse loudly. Andrea couldn’t look behind her; she had blinkers, but she could see they were falling back. They could make it second. The arena was close.

“Faster, Gorgeous! Bheki’s catching up!” Melissa shouted, whipping her even harder. Andrea gave it her all, and when they reached the sulky arena, she crossed the finish line in second place. Bheki came in third, and George last.

Andrea more or less collapsed as they reached the sulky arena. “Shit. I get you water. You're wiped out!”

Melissa removed her bit and pressed a sports drink bottle to her lips. Through her haze, Andrea wondered why Melissa’s boobs were out.

The explanation came with Henry’s loud protest. “You evil woman.” He pointed at Melissa, “Flashing your boobs and playing with them to distract my colt. That’s not a fair race!”

Andrea giggled and had a hard time not laughing out loud. Ponies didn’t laugh. So that’s why George had fallen behind.

Henry patted George. “No, Love, I’m not cross with you. It’s all her fault. Even I looked at her boobs” he took him by his bridle and led him off, “Come on. Let’s find you a mare. These fillies won’t do.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Charles asked, and Julia stomped angrily.

“Means I'll get my pony a proper coverable mare.” And he walked away while the other riders just rolled their eyes.

That night, the stalls were alive with the whinnies and neighs of the ponies, and the moans and grunts of the riders. Henry let Julia and Andrea have George. They had all earned a well-deserved treat for the night.

As Gill’s belly started to fill out, things changed. Not only at home, but at work. Helena started to push Silvia harder—sharpening her knife skills, refining her butchering technique, drilling her on laws and regulations, as well as on interacting with the clients. She had started to refer to the women coming to her as clients. Sure, they were livestock, but Silvia was doing this for them, not for the meat she produced.

But Helena drilling her like that…Silvia understood that her apprenticeship would eventually end with her becoming a Journeywoman, but Helena pushed her harder than she had ever pushed Melissa.

“Is there any specific reason you’re pushing me so hard? Not that I’m complaining...” Silvia asked, lightly frustrated, as Helena had her fillet an inner thigh cut into sashimi-quality strips.

“You are complaining! Cut finer. I want the finest strips out of this inner thigh.”

Silvia groaned but concentrated harder. It was extreme knife work. The blade had to be razor-sharp, her hand steady, her eyes fixed on the direction of the muscle fibres, her mind focused on maintaining the same perfect depth.

Finally, she produced a slice both she and Helena were happy with.

“Okay. Taste it for quality,” Helena commanded.

“Seriously? Raw?” Silvia grimaced. She wasn’t a fan of the recent obsession some people had developed with raw, thin-sliced Girl meat. She hadn’t tried it yet, but...

“Do it. And give me the other one,” Helena commanded more sharply.

Silvia handed Helena the previous, slightly less perfect strip and held up her own perfect strip against the light—yes, she was proud of it. Then she ate it. The taste was... different. More direct. The fat hadn’t rendered, and the flavour hit in a clean, cold way. She couldn’t fully describe it, but it was good. Maybe that new trend wasn’t so bad after all.

“Assessment?” Helena commanded immediately—and that triggered a barrage of questions about meat quality, the laws regulating raw consumption, storage protocols, best preparation methods... and on and on.

Helena finally gave a small nod. “I push you harder because you can take it. Melissa will be happy as a Journeywoman. But you? I know you better. You will want your Master rank. You were born to do this job. And I know you will want to train the next generation.”

That stunned Silvia for a second. Then she laughed. “Ambitious much... Mum?”

“Very funny. Now do it again.” But Helena grinned. “And do the whole inner thigh. We’re going to have that at home tonight, so tell your lovers and have them come over to your dad’s.”

The other adjustment caught her by surprise. Silvia hadn’t been worried about things between her, Gill, and Donny. But then one small remark from Anne made her doubt her place. She had asked her if she was afraid that the coming baby would be replacing her. That made Silvia think and analyse, trying to see if it was true. There were six years between Silvia and Gill, and ten between Silvia and Donny. Was she too young for them? Maybe just a plaything until real life required their attention? She was afraid to ask. She was happy with them, and she thought they were happy with her. But that question gnawed at her core, like a worm in an apple. It wouldn’t let her go.

She was still in that gloom, when she came home one day and heard Gill and Donny fighting.

“You don’t fucking listen... ever!” sounded Gill’s voice, loud, from the second bedroom. The one they used as an escape room whenever one of them needed time alone. Which happened now and then.

Silvia wasn’t sure what to do. They seldom fought, but when they did, Silvia felt like a third wheel. Donny stormed out of the room and saw her.

“Oh, fucking great!” he said and turned towards the bedroom. What was going on? What had she done? Was it about her?

Gill came out after him. “I’m telling you... Oh, hi, baby,” Gill said, as if she was hiding something.

“What’s going on?” Silvia asked.

“Nothing...” Gill started, but Silvia rolled her eyes. She knew her. Her nothings spelled drama. She was hiding something.

“Spill it, Gill,” Silvia said, her voice firmer than she felt. She wasn’t a dominant person, but sometimes she had to be with Gill, and most of the time it worked, even if Gill was older than her.

“Donny wants us to have one last holiday before I get too pregnant, and I think that’s bullshit. We have so much to do and plan... and what about you?”

A holiday? What about her? Did that mean without her? Had Anne been right? Were they defaulting back to being a couple, with the baby?

“Listen, we have to plan for the baby, and when it gets bigger, it needs a room, the colour scheme of the room... or... there is so much I don’t even know where to start. But we probably need to convert the extra room.”

Donny came back from the bedroom, upset. “Two women are just sometimes too much,” he growled angrily.

Silvia froze in the doorway, her chest tightening. The way Donny looked—angry, tired—made her stomach twist. Was this it? Was she being pushed out? At least the doorway held her; she was shaking.

But then Donny turned to her, his expression all of a sudden worried. “What’s wrong, baby? You are white as a sheet.”

Gill came to her too. “That’s you yelling at my baby, you big oaf. Seriously, males and their bullshit. Come sit down with me.”

That confused Silvia even more. Silvia stared at both of them. “Do you want me gone? Isn’t that it? You want to be a couple—with the baby—and I’m just... extra.”

Donny looked stunned and totally confused. “What? Why? ... Why would we want that? We need you. Now more than ever. You balance us. That’s what you always do.”

He rolled his eyes. “But sometimes you are just too much on her side....”

“That’s just because you are....” Gill started.

“Gill, stuff it,” Silvia cut in. Sometimes Gill had the tendency to just make things worse.

Silvia took a deep breath and spilled the beans. "Listen. Anne asked if I thought you’d replace me with the baby. And I guess it kind of wormed into me..."

“Oh, I am so gonna kill her...” growled Gill. She was rather aggressive. Her pregnancy hormones had her on a roller coaster sometimes. Donny cursed loudly; he was aggravated, that was for sure. But these simple reactions just made all the difference. No, they did not want to replace her. Silvia had again been overthinking again.

It had only been in her head, her own insecurities. But sometimes she still felt like a third wheel. She needed to talk about that with them.

But first, she had to do something about the state they were in. Now that she could think clearly, she had an idea how these two had riled themselves up into this state. Maybe Donny was right after all. She smirked. Balanced, yes. She did, and they balanced her.

Silvia pulled them into the kitchen. She sat Gill down with a tub of ice cream and some pickles, and then Silvia pulled down her trousers, bending over the kitchen counter. She looked over her shoulder at Donny, who looked a bit lost right now. “Get the stress out of your system. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Gill almost inhaled the ice cream. Silvia had been right; under-sugared. Silvia’s back arched, and she moaned loudly as Donny pushed hard into her with a growl. Right again. He needed to vent his stress, and he was too afraid to hurt the baby to fuck Gill as hard as he needed it right now.

After Donny had finished in her, he leaned over her, breathing hard, his weight on her and kissing her neck. She loved that she could do that for him. Silvia was out of breath too. She hadn’t cum, but that hadn’t been the goal here. Gill looked much more relaxed too.

“So, honey... what’s really going on?” Silvia asked from underneath Donny, who was still in her but now stroking and kissing her slowly.

Gill rolled her eyes. “What if the baby changes all this? We can’t just screw around anymore like that and...” Silvia let her ramble on for a while, waiting for the real reason. “...and what if I’m a bad mother? I’m not ready.”

“You will be an awesome mum, honey. Right, Silvi?” said Donny, pulling out of Silvia.

“Yes, you will be, and we can still screw. Also, we are two mums... so that makes it easier.” Silvia pulled her pants back up. This wasn’t something she wanted to discuss half naked, and she wasn’t sure whether she had just overstepped. She wasn’t the mother of the baby, Gill was. They had never actually discussed what she was to them. Gill and Donny were married and she was... what? What did she actually want? What was the goal?

Silvia sat down at the table, grabbing the ice cream tub from Gill. Empty. Figures.

Donny came and sat down too. “That’s why I want a holiday with us all. So we can just be us for a bit.”

“But... Silvi has an important job. She can’t just up and run. That’s what I wanted you to understand. She has responsibilities. Especially with Melissa so close to her exam.” Gill stood up and handed Silvia a fresh ice cream tub after taking an overloaded spoon out of it.

Silvia rolled her eyes at her, but Gill only huffed. “What? Baby. I’m allowed to be jealous that you can get such a nice pounding. You can be jealous that I can have as much ice cream as I want. Justice!” Gill declared.

Silvia giggled and turned to Donny. “I’m with him. Holiday!” Silvia declared, and Gill snapped the ice cream tub back from her and put her spoon deep into it. “Fine. But I want some pounding too,” she said, pouting and shovelling ice cream at the same time.

They settled on the holiday, but the incident made Silvia rethink her relationship. What did she want from it? What was her long-term goal? She had hopes and dreams, but she needed to be sure this was what she really wanted, and she had to think of her potential slaughter. What would it do to them if she got too close to them? So she cleaned the slaughter rooms again. Pondering. Thinking.

But the serenity that cleaning gave her only lasted a single morning shift.

Helena approached, arms crossed. “Stop that damn cleaning. Whatever’s wrong this time, anyway? Talk to your dad or me. This cleaning business has to stop. Talk. Melissa needs this; she is freaking out—she needs the cleaning to keep her sane.”

Helena was right, Melissa needed it more than she did; she was a nervous wreck at the moment. Her accreditation exam was next week, and Silvia had never seen her this... unbalanced. Silvia was about to ask Helena for advice, but Helena wasn’t finished. “Right now, you’ve got more important things to do anyway. Finish this and see me in the office.” More important things? But Helena had already disappeared, and Silvia hurried to finish the room.

When Silvia walked into Helena’s office, Helena shoved a stack of books at her.

“Work through these. You’re sitting your exams in six months. Latest. Earlier is better. You’ll be ready in four.” Helena sounded distracted. Stressed?

“Starting midday, you’re working with Alexandra. I need to focus on Melissa. She is stressed,” Helena said, not meeting her eyes. A clear sign that things were wrong.

“You are stressed too,” Silvia said gently. “What’s going on?”

Helena didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Silvia knew—Julia, Helena’s last apprentice, the one who had got her Letter just before accreditation. Helena was scared. Scared for Melissa and for her.

“Hels. Let Dad take you for a walk in the forest,” Silvia offered softly. “It’s peaceful. And hey, maybe you’ll be lucky and get eaten by a wolf.”

“Out! Learn! Go find Alex! Pester her,” Helena barked, but her smile crept through the stress.

As Silvia ducked out, she heard Helena mutter behind her, “Wolves. As if I’d let some flea-ridden, hairy—” and smiled. Mission accomplished.

She found Alex with Anne, chatting over coffee.

“There you are,” Alex said, standing. She pulled one of the books from Silvia’s stack. “Time you learned the difference between killing and slaughter. We have a customisation coming up, and you need to learn how to kill properly.”

Anne blanched and backed out fast. She didn’t really want to know what went on in the slaughter rooms. She knew; she had been at Julia’s slaughter, but she was somehow a bit skittish about knowing more. Anne was only involved in the prep and the official handover for clients to become Girl meat.

Silvia started assisting Alexandra, learning how she handled regular slaughters and how she differed from Helena. It was fascinating. Helena had been right—working with Alexandra taught her a totally new perspective and a new set of skills, especially when it came to dealing with frightened women and their imminent slaughter.

Even these normal slaughters, Alexandra handled differently than Helena. It reminded her of when Alexandra had slaughtered Nancy. She had talked to Nancy like a mother or a sister would have. But Alexandra must have some sixth sense…something. It had to be the same thing she used to pick up sex partners. But here, with clients facing slaughter, she adjusted to what a woman needed to make her accept, relax, and let go.

Nancy’s slaughter felt like a lifetime and a half ago. So much had changed. She had changed so much. Nancy’s slaughter had set her on this path, had made her cross paths with Gill and Donny, had brought Helena and her twins into her dad’s life and hers.

And now she was set for the next big step, being accredited as a Girl Butcher and figuring out a major relationship. She would have to focus on both.

There weren’t that many customisations. Maybe one every two weeks or less, and most of them were done by Alexandra. She didn’t understand why that was. She had seen Alexandra after Rose, and she had been devastated. Why would she do that? Whatever it was that drew Alexandra to do customisations, Silvia started to understand why women wanted to customise. They were searching for some kind of control over their inescapable fate.

In the case of Lena, it was about avoiding blood. She didn’t want to bleed out. She wanted to hang and die as fast and painlessly as possible, without blood. When she arrived, she was composed but afraid, resolved but nervous.

Alexandra handled the check-in, asking the standard questions before sending Anne on her way.

“As fast as possible. No fuss. No emotions. The fewer words, the better,” Alexandra stated, and it was a question. Lena just nodded.

“Okay. Please turn.” Alexandra’s tone was friendly but firm. She bound Lena’s hands behind her back, placed a hand on her shoulder, and guided her to the slaughter room.

That exchange made Silvia think. How had Alexandra known this was what Lena wanted? No questions, no words, no pleasantries—just get it over with. Silvia studied Lena, trying to see the clues Alexandra had noticed.

They led her to the slaughter room, where they had set up a simple gallows with a trapdoor and noose. Nothing fancy.

They walked her up to it and stood her on the trapdoor. Silvia placed a diving belt with extra weight around her waist. Lena cooperated but looked confused.

“Extra weight, so your neck snaps clean when you drop. You won’t strangle—it will be very quick,” Silvia explained. Lena nodded, her breathing shallow, her face tense. Alexandra slipped the noose around her neck, and Lena closed her eyes, trembling slightly.

They worked unhurriedly but efficiently, adjusting the noose so the knot sat perfectly over the C2 vertebra. Alexandra ensured there was enough rope to guarantee a drop and a clean break.

Silvia remembered how Alexandra had explained the physics of hanging to her the day before and had her read all the material. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. It had shocked Silvia, but it also made her understand why she needed to learn every method properly. She needed to know how to kill—fast or slow, painless or painful. It was her job now. She had to, and now she knew why she had to train with Alexandra.

“The only thing you need to learn from Helena is the axe. I can do it, but she is just better at it.” Alexandra held up a finger before Silvia could ask why. “It’s her story to tell.”

“Fair. But about hanging, why don’t we just hang clients instead of slitting their throats? That seems faster and less... aware,” Silvia asked.

Painfulness was one thing, but awareness was another aspect she had to learn about. How much would the woman know or feel? She remembered her own fake slaughter and the beheading of Leonie—how her eyes and mouth had moved.

“It seems faster and less messy,” Alexandra explained. “But it isn’t necessarily. It’s about the woman. A throat slit during orgasm is still the most humane way for a woman to go. But not for a male, they orgasm differently. A woman feels only the orgasm—you know that.” Silvia did, and it still made her shudder.

“Hanging, on the other hand, is a high-risk gamble. The drop might be too short or too long, the noose knot could be at the wrong angle or height, or it might slip during the drop and stop the break. She might have stronger neck muscles than average, or her body weight might be miscalculated. There’s so much that can go wrong, and if it does, she will suffer.”

Silvia tied Lena’s legs together, so she would not air-dance and would keep her dignity. Alexandra was slowly stroking Lena’s arm. Lena was trembling, her breathing flat and stressed. Body contact made it easier. It made the clients feel less alone.

Silvia finished, stepped back, and in the same instant, Alexandra pulled the lever to open the trapdoor.

Lena gasped as she fell, and there was an audible crack as her body dangled from the short drop. Her body spasmed and thrashed for a second, but she was already unconscious. As her body relaxed, it released urine. Alexandra had said that was normal, because her neck had snapped cleanly, and she was gone.

“That worked well for her. She had maybe a few seconds of awareness—mostly during the fall.”

They left her hanging for ten minutes, as regulation required, but she had been gone long before that. Silvia had plenty of time to think as she stared at Lena’s body slowly stopping its swing. Lena had asked to be hanged because she found the thought of bleeding out worse than the panic of the short drop. But in the end, it was all the same. They were dead. The only difference was how long they had waited in fear and how long their awareness of their death lasted.

Even that... what did it matter? They were dead. Nothing mattered for them after. It was in the minds of the living that this became an issue.

The question bothered Silvia. She thought back on her own fake slaughter. She had been nervous but mostly annoyed at the unfairness. But it would be over. She tried to imagine suffering before death. Yes, it would hurt, it would be hell, and she wouldn’t want that for anyone. But she was the one who didn’t want it for someone else. For the person dying and experiencing the pain, it must be terrible. But then they were dead—they didn’t feel or remember anymore. Only the living remained to feel and remember.

“And here’s another reason we don’t hang them,” Alexandra said as she lowered the rope, and Silvia guided Lena’s body to the ground. “It takes longer to get the dead weight into a spreader bar and then gut, behead, and butcher. Another woman has to wait and be afraid for longer. That’s why we always do customisations last.”

Once they had Lena down and hanging upside down, Silvia understood. The dead weight of a body, plus the awkwardness of handling lifeless, flopping legs, arms, and a head dangling from a broken neck, wasn’t easy to manage. She realised that as much as they needed to care for the dignity and painlessness of a slaughter, they also had to be efficient to keep up with demand.

“Okay, now that she’s upside down, I want you to practice the throat slit. She’s dead meat, and her head has to come off anyway.”

Silvia’s eyes widened. This would be her first slit—even if Lena was dead, it still counted. Alexandra walked her through it, simulating the cut with an edgeless knife they kept around for training purposes. Silvia saw it for the first time from the butcher’s perspective, not from next to the woman’s pussy. Alexandra took her time to explain where and how to cut. Then she made Silvia practise the cut, slow and correct, several times, with the blunt knife to train her muscle memory.

“Okay. Now you do it for real. Get ready, and I’ll give you the sign.”

Silvia stroked Lena’s head. “Thanks,” she said to the dead body. It felt right to her. Alexandra said, “Now,” and Silvia pulled Lena’s head back by the hair and cut. Blood spilled out, but not as fast or violently as Silvia was used to. Without a beating heart, only gravity pushed the blood out.

Alexandra inspected her work. “Okay. That’s good enough. The depth is fine, but you need to be much faster. A faster, deeper cut, less awareness. I’ll give you exercises to train for that.”

And so Silvia learned how to slit a throat fast and efficiently. Another step towards becoming a proper Girl Butcher and taking lives. It didn’t frighten her that she would have to kill. She was only worried about her relationships. Her dad, her lovers... they knew. But were they really, really on board with knowing she killed for a living? That she might even slaughter someone they knew?

When Nancy’s dads finally heard what Silvia did, they started to fade from her life. They hadn’t shouted or given her the Look, but she could see that they couldn’t deal with it. Nancy’s loss had hit them hard, and it would take them a long time to recover.

Melissa passed her exam, and they all went out to drink. Helena and Alexandra made sure they drank a lot. They went to their usual haunt where they could just be themselves. Anne and Ramona didn’t come along—this was Butchers only. Only women who killed women for a living. Only they could understand what it meant for Melissa. Starting tomorrow, she would take lives. It was a big step. A step Silvia would face too.

They didn’t celebrate that Melissa would kill, but that she had earned her accreditation—had earned the rank of Journeywoman. An achievement in any trade. That she would help try to change the system, try to make it easier for women to face their slaughter.

After the first toasts, Melissa finally started to relax and let go. The stress was finally rolling off her.

“Mel... you should fuck more. That takes the stress off,” Alexandra advised, with a man hanging off her and practically salivating. Silvia was still fascinated by how she did that, but she had seen how Alex tuned in to the women she slaughtered.

Melissa sighed. “I don’t like sex.” That turned all heads. “What? I don’t like it. It kind of grosses me out a bit.”

“Grosses you—ow!” Silvia blurted, surprised, before she could stop herself. Helena had kicked her under the table, hard enough to shut her down.

“Yeah, it does. It’s messy, and I never know what to do after. I just want to be left alone after I come, and I don’t want to deal with anyone.” Melissa downed another shot. “I like flicking myself off more than having sex with someone. Doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl,” she confessed, then added in a different voice, “But I do miss being touched by someone. Being wanted.”

There was a brief silence. Alex whispered to the man, and he grinned and disappeared under the table.

“Mel, baby. Just enjoy. No words needed. I’ve got you,” Alexandra said as Melissa’s eyes shot open and she jerked upright, as Silvia could feel the guy spread Melissa’s legs next to her.

“Alex!” Helena gasped. “We’re not in one of your clubs.”

“Shut up, Hels. I know what I’m doing. She needs it. Right, Mel?”

Melissa bit her lip and breathed through her nose, her hand gripping the edge of the table, but she nodded.

“You want next?” Alexandra asked Helena. As much as Silvia was taken aback, she could see that Melissa was relaxing after the initial shock. She leaned back in her seat, opened herself up more, and closed her eyes. Alexandra was fascinating in her own way.

Helena shook her head and grinned. “I’m in a committed relationship, Alex. I don’t do that anymore.”

Committed relationship? That was it. Silvia finally had the right words. She was in a committed relationship with Gill and Donny. She had committed to them and they to her. That made her smile.

They all ignored Melissa as she grabbed the table with both hands and let out gasping moans.

“So, joke aside, you two are getting together?” Silvia asked Helena.

“Yes. Very much so. I... we... ah, fuck... I pushed that away for too long anyway. So here we go.” Helena sat more upright and looked directly at Silvia. “We want to move in together. There’s no point in having multiple homes.”

Silvia shrugged. She had expected that. They had grown closer over the last month. Gill, Silvia, and the twins had even gone clubbing—the last time before Gill decided it was better to stop, for the baby. Not that she had drunk anything, but she was hyper-protective of her stomach.

“I think you should. It’s a good idea. Good for Pen and Pam too.”

“Yeah... so... well.” Helena was flustered and looked back at Melissa, who arched her back as Alexandra stroked her side and whispered encouragement. Melissa was seriously enjoying it, and that was good. They were in their little corner booth, and nobody cared anyway. That’s why they came here.

“So the thing is, Silvi... your room... ah—” Helena finally managed.

“Right! You need my room for one of the twins. Sure.” Then her smile broadened. Her partners would love that. They had hinted a couple of times. It was time Silvia fully committed to them.

“This weekend,” Silvia said and smiled.

They drank more, and Silvia declined the under-the-table service as well. She was in a committed relationship. Even if she would have wanted to try this. Alex, however, went all in—and it was an experience. Everyone at the table could feel her as if they were being serviced themselves, and it left everyone flustered and... satisfied at the same time. It was weird.

Shortly after, Melissa’s head fell forward onto the table, fully relaxed, and she started to snore. Silvia dialled Donny.

“Come and get me... or I’ll do something... but I’m committed. Don’t want to. You both wouldn’t want that either. But it’s fun,” she said, explaining everything very clearly in her drunken state. But Donny only laughed.

“Hold on to Helena. I’ll be there soon.”

Silvia looked over to Helena, and she nodded. “Come on... Silvi... we’ll show them.”

And they did. They sang beautifully—except there must have been something wrong with the recording Donny played to her and Gill the next morning. It showed two totally wasted women bellowing something that couldn’t even be called music.

Gill made her tell everything about the under-the-table service. She was too pregnant to go out like that herself, and she sounded a bit envious.

But Donny wiped that envy away fast enough when he slipped under their kitchen table.

Silvia and Gill tried to talk about the upcoming weekend and Silvia moving in fully. It was fun, but not easy—first for Silvia, then for Gill. Both of them tried to act normal while their hands clamped onto the edge of the table, trying to keep their voices steady.

In the end, it turned into a deeply satisfying conversation for all three of them. Donny included.

Melissa’s first slaughter was scheduled, and Helena, as Head Butcher, assisted her. Although Melissa was accredited, her first ten slaughters would be supervised. Silvia had wondered if the line butchers at the processing plant were under such strict supervision too. But the answer was shocking—only private facilities had that many government regulations. When she told Gill and Donny, they flipped out.

“Oh my! Baby, seriously? I’m so happy I’m out of the Lottery,” Gill said. Then she stopped, covering her mouth. “Oh, baby... you’re still in it. For quite a while.”

“That’s okay, honey. I’m not afraid. I told you where I’ll be going, and you, honey, will see how peaceful it will be.” Silvia couldn’t help herself, pressing her boobs into Gill. “You could already decide if you like them steamed or grilled.”

“Silvia!” Gill exclaimed, shocked. She only used her name when she was seriously upset.

“What? If I get my Letter, you guys get my Tits. And Dad gets my Ass. I would love it if you could make my Cunt like you do with the vegetables and the hot sauce.” Silvia teased her partner. She had decided they were partners, and that was enough for now. She wanted more, but she also wanted to go slower.

Gill still looked shocked, and she could feel Donny behind her also being tense.

“Listen. No part of me gets onto a shelf. That’s settled. Get used to it,” Silvia said firmly. She wanted her parts to go to the people she loved and who would appreciate her.

“We can’t just eat you!” Donny exclaimed.

“And why not? Seriously. If not you, then some random person. I want it to be the people I care about and who care about me.”

“I get that... but... it would be your Tits and your Cunt... and...” he started.

“And it’s just in your head. I’ll be dead. I’ll be gone. That would be just my body. The me is gone.” She cuddled deeper into him. “I want my body to stay with you. I had some of Nancy and... it felt good.”

She had never said it out loud before, but it had felt good. Good to know that part of Nancy was with her. Stayed with her.

Silvia continued while they all cuddled in bed. “You haven’t seen it, but I have often enough. When the person dies and the eyes... they are just empty. From one moment to the next, there is no person anymore. Just a body, and then we butcher the body down into Girl meat. The person is gone.”

Gill cuddled her from the other side. “I get that. In my head. But I’m not sure I could watch you being slaughtered. I would want to be with you, but... but I’m also afraid I will lose you. You still have six years... lots can happen.”

Silvia turned around, facing her. “Honey, don’t be afraid. If it happens, it happens, there is nothing you or I or Donny or anyone can do. So there is not really anything to be afraid of.”

She could see and feel that her partners were still on the fence. “How can you be so unafraid of it?” Donny asked. “I was terrified for so long until Gill was out of the Lottery.”

“Donny. I will soon start to kill women. I can’t just do that without accepting that I may have to give up my own life. They become Girl meat and will be eaten. I have to be prepared to do the same.”

Silvia could feel the impact that had, so she leaned forward and kissed Gill, softly and carefully. “Just let us enjoy the time we have. I want to think about what I can build with you, and what I can achieve in my job. The positive stuff. Everything else is out of my hands.”

Silvia pulled her pyjama top over her head, her bottoms down, and turned around. “Also, you love eating me out,” she said teasingly and started to push Donny under her, guiding his face where she wanted it to go. Gill giggled and helped. While Silvia rode Donny’s face, Gill had fun with her boobs and she with hers. She was a bit envious about the massively increased boobs Gill had now, but she loved playing with them, especially as Gill moaned much louder now.

Gill bit Silvia’s nipple hard to get her attention. “We steam them, so they don’t shrink further,” Gill joked, continuing to love-bite her nipples, driving Silvia wild.

The Farm - Chapter 11 – Partner Time

As it grew darker outside, Mindy called a halt. “OK. Good Work, everyone. Tonight is Partner time until lights out. There is NO fucking during Partner time. You want to fuck? Fuck your pony now or in the morning. No good night treats. You will spend the evening together as equal partners. Kissing is fine, but masturbation, fucking, or anything sexual is not. I catch a rider; I will personally whip him or her.”

It was another test for the ponies. After a proper sit-down dinner, they needed to become ponies again. It would test their willingness to do so. It would also train them to lead an everyday life while retaining their pony attitudes. During this phase, partner time would be gradually extended.

“Dinner will be served in the house at eight o’clock. In the meantime, you can go to the gym or the indoor pool, use the library, or take your partner to your room. I will attend dinner with my husband. Partner time starts when you leave the hall.”

What the riders didn’t know, and Melissa probably didn’t understand yet, was that this was also a training session for the rider. Building their ‘normal’ relationship bonds would not be easy, and they needed to find a new equilibrium outside the rider/pony world. Sure, there were riders who stabled their ponies year-round, but not Farm ponies. Farm ponies were special because they functioned in both worlds.

As the riders brought their ponies outside, everyone noticed the change in weather; a cold wind had picked up.

Melissa saw Andrea shivering, took her riding jacket off, and put it over Andrea’s shoulders. “See? I listen to your body language. Let’s get you to my room. Have a warm shower and change into evening clothes.” And Melissa guided her towards the house.

After a moment, Melissa stopped abruptly. “Fuck a duck. I’m soo stupid. Let me get your bridle off and your hands free. It’s partner time, my pony. There. Better.” She smiled up at her partner. “Hi, Gorgeous.”

“Hi, Melissa,” Andrea answered shyly, though smiling. It was the first time she had used her rider’s and future wife’s name. They walked on, and Melissa reached for Andrea’s hand, and she let her hold it.

Penelope turned to her pony. “Stay. Let me get the bridle off you, darling. There. All right?”

Maria stared for a while with big eyes at Penelope and then howled. “I’m worthless as a pony!” Big tears ran down her face. “I can’t pull a sulky. I can’t do dressage. I'm terrible at communicating with you. I’m not good at satisfying you. And you are ashamed of me. I’m a worthless pony.”

She cried as all her worst fears ran through her head. She would be sold off to a brothel, her sister too. Pen would keep her but detested her. Pen would just own her but marry a stallion. And on and on and on.

Penelope stepped forward and shook her hard by her shoulders. “Maria, stop,” she commanded. Then she took Maria’s face in her hands, making her look into her eyes. As Maria stared into her eyes, she continued. “I don’t want to hear such nonsense out of your mouth ever again. You hear me? You are my pony, you will be my wife, you will be the mother of our children. You have more worth to me than you can ever imagine. I want you. You are everything I ever wanted.”

Maria stared at her. Nothing was running through her mind anymore, just blessed silence.

Penelope continued. “I’m not ashamed of you. No. Never. I’m ashamed of myself. I feel old, really old, and if you weren’t a pony, you would run for the hills. An old hag like me, with a young and beautiful woman like you, only because I’m rich. That’s what I’m ashamed of. Myself.”

Maria blinked, confused. Why would she say such things about herself? It angered her. It made this all feel cheap. She wasn’t after riches. She had worked for it. Worked for this, hard.

She placed her hands on her hips and, with a stern voice full of anger, spoke. “Penelope.” And the word hit Penelope like a slap to the face. “I chose to become a pony. I chose you out of the riders who wanted me. I was nothing but a slum rat before I chose you. Now I’m your pony. I’m ecstatic to become your wife. Not because you are rich. I don’t care about that. I want to be your obedient pony and loving wife because you care for ME.”

Penelope was now blinking at her forcefully determined wife-to-be, but Maria wasn’t finished.

“I want to be the best pony and wife I can be. I knew what it meant to come here, to become a pony. Yes, you are all rich, so what? I endured a lot to be able to choose you. And listen.” She stepped forward and hugged her, pressing her head against Penelope. “I was allowed to choose. I had never been allowed to choose anything. I chose you because you said you wanted to have children with me. You offered me a family. I want that. I want to be a family with you.”

Penelope hugged her back, and they held each other for a long while.

“You are actually quite good in the hay. You certainly get me off. You don’t have to be the best at anything to be my pony or my wife. I just… I just want you to be MINE.”

“I am YOUR pony; I WANT to be your wife. Your pony will accept anything you want to do to it. As your wife, with my bridle off, we have to find a balance. I’m… I can be very forceful…, or so my dad tells me.” She blushed at the last sentence.

“So, I just keep you in your bridle forever?” Penelope asked facetiously.

“If you wish that, I will wear your bridle to my grave and never complain about it.”

“NO! Gods, no. I wouldn’t want that. I want you to be my partner and my pony. I need partner time as much as I need my pony to pull me through a village where I feel they judge me.”

“Oh, that was what that was. I thought you were ashamed of me?” Maria replied.

“Why would I? I thought you were ashamed of me. Ok. We really need to work on that. Let’s get you inside; you are getting cold. I don’t want you to get sick and miss OUR training.”

“Hey, George. Stay. Let me take off your bridle… and your arms. What about a workout in the gym? We have two hours before dinner.”

Instead of saying something, George hugged him. Henry was a bit perplexed, but hugged him back. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing. I’m not confused anymore. I feel good. I feel loved, and I feel wanted. Not because of what my father is, but because of what I am. You want me. That feels good.” George let go of him. ”Gym, yes, please.”

Henry took George's hand, and they walked off together. George would need to get used to having a male partner. It wasn’t that easy and would take time. He wasn’t gay, but he had a new outlook on life, and if that meant he needed to have sex with a man, he would do his best. It wasn’t as if it was unpleasant and a chore, especially since he was allowed to cover fillies, which his rider enjoyed watching.

Julia bolted out of the training hall towards Andrea and Melissa, with Charles running after her, trying to catch her. Julia started running circles around Melissa and Andrea.

“My pony doesn’t want to be a partner,” Charles called out, half-amused, half-frustrated. “Seriously, Julia, stop. Let me take your bridle off.”

Andrea stepped directly into Julia’s path and stopped her as she almost collided with her. “You will stop, and you will be his partner. I know it’s hard for you. You have always been a pony. So you now need to learn to be a partner.” Andrea said sternly.

Julia let her head hang but nodded. Charles caught up with her and just removed her bridle and freed her arms. “Hey, Julia.”

“Hi,” she said to Charles, smiling at him sheepishly. He smiled back, took her hand, and they both ran to the house. Julia began to laugh.

“You are really good at this. Maybe you should have become a rider and trainer,” Melissa commented as they both looked after the other couple.

Andrea shook her head. “No. I hate to admit it. You have no idea how much I hate it. But maybe my mother was right about one thing. I am better off as a pony. I look back on my old life and see only emptiness. At least here, I fit in. I like to be told what to do by you. I like that you give me rules and stability, even if they hurt. And I like to get fucked as a pony. I like to have no say in it.”

Andrea had finally admitted it out loud. She had known that for a while now, but it was still hard to say it out loud.

“I don’t care about your mother. I care what you want. I know what I want for you right now: a shower. You are getting cold.”

As they entered the house, they found people in normal clothes mingling with a few obvious riders and ponies. Everyone moved together as if it were perfectly normal. Once people were clothed, it was not easy to tell who was a rider and who was a pony.

The riders brought their partners to their rooms to put some clothes on them.

Charles had laid out all the clothes he wanted Julia to wear on his bed. A dress, underwear, and high heels.

“I have to wear all that?” Julia asked, taken aback.

“What don’t you like?”

“I like to be naked as I have been for most of my life,” she hesitated, glancing at the unfamiliar outfit. This partner world felt strange to her, and the clothes were just one more thing she needed to handle. It was so much easier to be just a pony. But she understood that this was as much part of her training as was pulling the plough.

“All right, you can be naked when it is just us. But other times you need to wear clothes. It’s important for me that I’m able to present my wife and partner to others. We will be living in both worlds. You can be my crazy pony in one world, but I need you to be my Lady in the other.”

She had only known the pony world, not this, where there were partners. She didn’t know what was expected of her as a partner. Both her parents were ponies and ruled by their riders. She had not seen much Partner Time and didn’t really understand it. But she liked Charles, and she would try.

“Fine. I will try,” she said reluctantly.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

George and Henry were sweating through their workout. George was impressed by what his partner could handle, and it felt good to have someone strong beside him. He needed that.

Henry was spotting George, pushing him forward. “One more set. I know you’ve got it in you. Come on... Yes! That’s it. Feel better?”

“Yes, much better. Thanks. I missed a proper workout. Being tired out, feel my muscles burn. Dressage doesn’t do much for me. I get the point of marching, and that’s fine, but I need something to fight against.”

“Fair enough. I promised, didn’t I? Come on, I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

He began teaching George the basics of real fighting. It was tough on George; he had to unlearn many bad habits and routines. At one point, after Henry easily defended against a clumsy attack and George ended up on the mat and stayed there, groaning.

“They let me win. I was so stupid. How could I have been so stupid? I’m pathetic. I’m a joke!”

Henry sat down beside him, placing a reassuring hand on George’s shoulder.

“Love, forget your old life. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll make sure you learn this properly. I won’t disappoint you, and I won’t let you win. I promise.”

“Thanks… I like you. It’s hard for me to say that out loud.”

“I know, my love. It’s all right.”

Penelope presented Maria with her clothes for the evening. “Do you like them? I had them made for you, based on your measurements,” she said nervously.

“They are new? For me? Made for me?” Maria said in disbelief.

“Yes…” Pen said, unsure. “Is that all right?”

Maria touched the dress; the fabric was soft, the colours were bright, and it was made for her. It was new. She had never had anything that was new and for her. It must have been expensive.

“You can’t spend all your money on me,” she said, almost as an accusation.” Penelope laughed softly.

Maria let her head hang. She was doing something wrong again.

“Oh no, darling, sorry.” Penelope’s voice softened as she wrapped her arms around her. “I’m actually glad you said that. I can be a bit of a spendthrift, so I don’t mind you reining me in.” She smiled. “Equal partners—we’ll have to work on that.”

“I know. It will be hard. I thought that once I was chosen and married, my happily ever after would begin, and that would be that. I have no idea what happens after we are married.”

“Whatever you want to happen. More or less. You are still my pony, and I am demanding. But as my wife, I want to know what you want.”

“I… I like trousers better than dresses.” She said a bit shyly.

“No problem, as long as I can get you out of them. I will get you some. Is there anything you want me to wear?... or not?”

Maria bit her lip. “I like you in dresses and with your hair down. Your hair is so nice. Can I brush it?”

Penelope sat down at the dressing table. “Absolutely, darling.” Maria picked up the brush and began running it through Penelope’s hair.

“Ouch,” Penelope exclaimed as Maria caught a snag in her hair.

“Don’t be such a pussy.” Maria chided as she would to her little sister. She stopped. Afraid of what she had just said and what Penelope would do to her.

“ok,” Pen said timidly. It was strange. Maria continued brushing her hair, unsure of what had just happened.

Andrea washed Melissa. She had never washed anyone, and it was fascinating to touch another woman. It still felt strange. Andrea had been with women during training, but she had been passive. Now she had hands to touch and feel. Melissa had all the same parts as Andrea, but they were different, too. Melissa had smaller boobs and more hips than she had. Melissa had ordered clothes for her, based on her measurements. That had been very thoughtful of her.

“Is that what you want me to wear?” Andrea asked.

“You don’t like it?” Melissa was confused.

“No, it’s fine; I just want to know what I’m expected to wear.”

“As my partner, whatever you want.” Andrea felt unsure. She had always worn things to make her stand out, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to stand out anymore. Melissa noticed her reaction. “You want me to tell you what to wear?“

“You promised to give me rules and guidance,” Andrea mumbled.

“You want me to take charge not only in the stable but also in our marriage?”

Andrea just nodded.

It was more than strange for the ponies to wear clothes. They had been naked in harnesses for months now.

Mindy and her husband, Bheki, were already waiting in the dining room when Penelope half-dragged Maria into the room. Maria had never seen anything like this. Everything looked expensive: the chandeliers, the paintings, the patterned wallpaper, even the polished floor beneath her feet.

Mindy was wearing a beautiful long green dress with a low-cut bodice, and Bheki wore a suit that made him look even taller and more imposing.

Bheki spoke when Maria and Penelope entered. “Good evening, Pen, Maria. How are you doing?”

“Thank you, Bheki. I’m good. How are you?“ Penelope noticed her partner being a bit distracted. “Darling? Are you OK?”

Maria just nodded shyly. This was a world she understood even less than the pony world.

“Don’t be shy, Maria,” Mindy said. “It’s an essential part of your training to be able to fit into society. Correct, Pen?”

“Well, yes. We will have to represent the family and throw a ball from time to time,” Penelope said.

“A ball? I can’t dance!“ Maria exclaimed and then stopped shyly.

Penelope’s face split with a grin. “That’s all right. “Mindy, do we have a waltz? Brilliant. Come, darling.”

And Pen took her by the hand. “I’ll teach you. Oh, wonderful, just what we need.”

George and Henry had entered, and Penelope went and dragged Henry over to where they were. Henry, being dragged away by Pennelope, called after George, amused, “Love, I assume you can dance. I believe the ladies like to dance. You with Penelope. I will look after Maria.”

“Yes, Henry, I can. Penelope, may I have this dance?” He bowed before her, and she gave him her hand while Henry showed Maria the basic step.

“Oh! Yes!” Melissa exclaimed as she dragged Andrea to the impromptu dance floor. “I lead,” she said as she took Andrea in her arms.

“Yes, you do,” Andrea replied, satisfied that Melissa had taken control.

Mindy looked up at her imposing husband. “Would you like to dance with me, my love? It has been a long time.” He smiled and nodded, taking her in his arms, and they danced.

Charles and Julia looked on. Julia had never learned, and neither had Charles.

Mindy saw it, and together with her husband, they taught them, and by all appearances, they both liked it.

They then sat and ate dinner together, served by house staff. It was even more strange to be able to eat with your own hands. They had been hand-fed three times a day.

Maria was a bit taken aback by all the silverware and the glasses, and she tapped Penelope. “Show me.” She whispered, blushing. But Pen just helped her sort it out without comment, smiling.

Julia had no idea what to do, but on the other hand, she did not care much; she just took one fork and used it for most of the meal.

“We have to work on your table manners. You can be as much a crazy pony as you like. But you also have to become a Lady. Now you use this… “ Julia was happy he taught her. She wanted to learn new things.

“Sorry, we do not serve alcohol during training. I hope you understand,” Mindy said.

“That’s a pity,” George sighed.

“Oh, you don’t drink anymore,” Henry said, laying down the rule. “Only when I allow you, but it won’t be much.”

George nodded. George would follow Henry’s rules. He had been right so far.

Dinner was wonderful. The ponies had been fed very basic foods, and now it was an explosion of tastes for them. It made it special. Maria had never had anything like this. It was so good and had so much variety of flavours.

“You need to stop me eating too much, or I will be a very fat pony soon.” She whispered.

“All right. I will. But you have to look out for me too. The only fat pony I want is a pregnant one.” That made Maria smile.

After the dinner was concluded, Mindy announced. “Riders, stable your ponies for the night.”

Andrea took Melissa’s hand. “Come fix my bridle.” And the smile on Melissa lit up the room.

When Penelope and Maria came back to her room, Maria stripped wordlessly out of her clothes, and Pen helped her into her tack.

Before Penelope could put the bit in, Maria said, “Good night, Pen.” Pen could not help herself. She kissed Maria properly before putting the bit in.

Julia was obedient for a change. “I’m happy to be a pony again. This world scares me a bit.”

Charles took her hand and led her back to the stable. He would change her in her stable; it would be easier for her that way.

“I know. I will protect and teach you. I think for you, it’s the other way around. When you first arrived, you were a pony already. The others were not, and they were scared. Now you have to be a partner and a Lady, which scares you.”

She neighed, and he petted her. He was right. That must have been hard.

When Henry and George came to their room, Henry could sense something was off with George. “Talk to me,” he said softly.

George felt stupid. Henry prompted him, “Say it!”

“I… I don’t know how to say it. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

Henry came closer, and George let his head hang. Henry said carefully, “I know you don’t love me, and I know you are not gay. Maybe a bit bi.”

George's head came up. “What? No, that’s not it. I don’t mind. You are caring. In time…maybe. But that’s not it. I… I want to resist.” He said and went a bit red. Henry stared at him, confused at first, but then asked.

“You want to feel my strength, and you want to be subdued? Is it that?” George nodded, his face blushing. “But you want to be my pony? Be with me?” Henry asked, unsure.

George looked up, confused. “I thought I was?”

Henry stood up taller and smirked. ““Not until I brand you. Until then, I could still have your balls off and sell you to a brothel.”

”George froze in fright. “Too much?” Henry asked, laying a hand on his chest.

“It scares me. I don’t know if you mean that. I mean physical resistance.”

“Sorry, love. I was not serious. I like your balls too much to have any harm come to them. I understand now.”

Suddenly, Henry spun him around and pushed his arm behind his back. “Open your trousers.”

George smiled slightly as Henry’s strength overpowered him. He did not fight back hard. He just wanted to feel his rider’s strength on him.

Melissa put her scarf back into Andrea’s hair again as she laid her down to rest in her hay. “Good night, Gorgeous.”

Andrea felt strange. She had enjoyed the dinner and even more the dancing, but she also felt good to be back in her stall on her straw, her arms tied and her bridle on. She didn’t understand it, but she could accept it and wondered what the rest of her life would look like.

Julia was happy to be back where she felt safest. This other world was scary, but she understood now better what Andrea had gone through to become a pony. She had seen her fight it. She could be as brave as her lead mare. She could become a lady, just as Andrea had become a pony.

George felt good. He had enjoyed the dinner, and if he was honest, he had liked when Henry laid down his drinking rule. He had not drunk anything in ages, and he didn’t want to anymore. As a pony, his head had stopped being bombarded with thoughts. He liked that. He didn’t need the alcohol anymore.

Maria was happy, but right now mostly anxious. Several things plagued her. She had no idea how to behave with these people. She would have to learn how everything was done. She just hoped that Pen would still like her while she caught up.

She couldn't sleep. There was a massive storm outside, thunder and lightning. She could never sleep during a thunderstorm. She was afraid of them. They sounded too much like explosions or gunfire. She was sobbing, scared in her hay, tossing and turning. She didn’t want to be alone. She tried to be as silent as possible so she would not wake the others.

Her stall door opened, and Penelope came in wearing a wet rain jacket. She motioned for Maria to be silent, then took her coat off and hung it next to her tail. She freed Maria’s arms and lay down in front of her, wanting to be the small spoon.

“I am afraid of thunderstorms. Just hold me. please,” she begged, and Maria did, even though she was perplexed. “Mindy will whip me tomorrow for this, but I don’t care. Just hold me, Darling. Please.”

She embraced Pen as much as she could, and Penelope fell asleep with a deep sigh of relief, breathing softly. To her total amazement, Maria was not afraid anymore and drifted off to sleep with her arms around her rider and partner. Protecting her.

​

“Fuck,” Henry cursed. “Goddammit.”

Dahlia looked up from the TV. “Dad? What’s up now? Another bill?”

“No, worse. They reduced our unemployment benefits. All of ours.”

Silk looked up too. “What do you mean? All of ours?”

“They can’t do that. We are living on scraps anyway,” Julia added.

“Look. They did.” Henry held up the letter, and his three daughters came to see it. “They put us in the category of one co-located group. Not a family anymore.”

“Yeah, fuck me,” Julia cursed. The letter told them that, as they were second-generation unemployed and all the household members were now over eighteen, the state would reduce their dole to make them find a job.

“Find a job? Where? What?” Silk complained. “They must be nuts. Half the town has been on the dole since the steel mill closed down. Everyone is fucked.”

Dahlia nodded. “And the few jobs in town... they are given out on a first-cum, first-hired basis. I tried. I sucked and fucked just about all the business owners. Nada.”

“Too many women. Not enough jobs. Can’t even prostitute myself. Who would pay for a woman prostitute?” Julia added deadpan.

Everyone just chuckled. That was funny. A female prostitute. There were three male ones in town, and they had work. Lots. But the sisters never had the money to hire one. Getting a good male fuck was hard, but what was way harder was getting a job.

 

That had been five weeks ago. Now the last of their money had run out. The dole they received kept them alive, but it was nowhere near enough for them to survive much longer. Julia had been able to keep the job for more than a week; then some much younger girl had caught the owner’s eye, and that had been that.

The family sat together around the table. One candle. There was no money to waste on power for lights. They had pawned the TV yesterday. Enough money to put food on the table for two weeks. Cheap food.

They all knew they needed to do something, but nobody had any idea what to do.

“We could move away,” Julia suggested. “We just up and run. Take everything and see how far we get with the gasoline we have. We should make it to the next city... or so.”

“And then what?” Henry asked. “What does it change?”

“I don’t know. It’s worth a try. What else can we do? We can’t pay next month’s rent. The dole isn’t enough for all of us; there are no jobs here.”

“I can sell myself,” Dahlia said.

“Very funny, Dahlia. Who is going to pay to fuck you?” Silk asked. “Your girlfriend? She doesn’t have a job either.”

“The Butcher,” Dahlia said, and the silence that followed was loud.

“Are you fucking insane?” Henry asked. “Sell yourself to the Butcher as meat?”

“Yes. You can get up to five thousand for me.”

Silence. Deep and utter silence as everyone processed five thousand. That would mean at least a year, maybe a year and a half, of living frugally.

“Also, with the dole and the money, the rest of you could make it,” Dahlia said, not looking up. “One less mouth to feed.”

There were looks between everyone. Shock. Revulsion. Understanding. Uncertainty. Hope. Irritation.

Finally, Julia asked, “Is it by the kilo, or by... I have no idea.”

“By the kilo, but also by how good your muscles, boobs, cunt, and arse are.”

Henry sat up straight. “How do you know?”

“Giselle. She doesn’t see a future anymore.” Dahlia still didn’t look up, and her voice was a whisper. “She made an appointment for tomorrow.”

“You’re shitting me!” Julia gasped, but Dahlia just nodded. Dahlia’s girlfriend would be meat by this time tomorrow. Meat that nobody at this table—or in Giselle’s family—could afford to buy.

“That’s not gonna happen!” Henry put his foot down. “I’m not selling anyone to the Butcher.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision, Dad. It’s our lives,” Silk added, and none of the other sisters looked at her. They all felt the same. “I get Giselle. What future is there for us anyway? Not enough men. No jobs. I’m not into girls. I get it.”

“I don’t know what to do without Giselle,” Dahlia sighed.

“It’s not fucking happening. That’s what it is.” Henry laid down the law.

“Shut up, Dad,” Dahlia said. “It’s not your decision. Not at all. My body, my decision.”

Henry sank back into the chair. “That’s just fucked up.”

“Yes, it is,” Julia said firmly. “Totally. But right now, it sounds like a solution...” She stopped and looked around. “It’s a horrible solution, and I don’t want anyone to do it... but what else can we do?”

“Can we wait one week before doing this?” Henry objected. “Let’s see if I can get that job at the construction company.”

The sisters agreed, knowing that their father’s bad leg would not hold up. He had almost been crippled in the accident that killed their mother. Oil spill on the road at night. Their parents had not stood a chance.

 

Two evenings later, the mood at the table was worse. The job hadn’t come through. Henry was too handicapped for it.

“I tried,” Henry said, defeated. “I even tried to see if I could be a prostitute. But nobody has much extra money, and the three we have... I stand no chance. Nobody would want to fuck me... for money.”

Silk took his hand. “Thanks for trying.”

Silence filled the table.

“$4,305,” Dahlia said without preamble.

The silence stretched. Everyone knew she was talking about Giselle.

“That’s a lot,” Julia finally said, but she didn’t look up. “But you said something about up to five thousand.”

“Giselle has... had a tattoo. The Butcher said nobody wants to eat personalised meat. He would have to cut it out of her, losing some meat. He offered her $4,243, but she made him add another dollar per kilo. Her dead weight was 61.3 kilos. Her boobs...” Dahlia shook her head. No... no more boobs. Tits. Just meat. “Her tits alone went for $140.”

“Did you watch it?” Silk asked.

Dahlia nodded. Everyone waited.

“She undressed. He checked her over. She negotiated the money, raising the price per kilo by one dollar. She signed a release for her meat, and I took the money. She hadn’t told her parents, so I gave it to them afterwards.” She paused. “They hate me now. I get it.”

Dahlia sighed again, clearly upset.

“The Butcher put a stun bolt to her head, and that was that. She collapsed into a heap, and he put her on a meat hook. She peed. Just like that, she was dead meat,” Dahlia told them, her voice detached. “I checked a few hours later. Her head and her meat were in the vitrine, and people bought it. Out-of-town people.” Only a few people there had money for girl meat.

“I would go,” Silk said weakly. Dahlia looked at her, astounded, but took her hand.

“We are all going tomorrow,” Julia decided. “Let’s talk to the Butcher and see who gets the most money and if we can get more somehow.” She paused and looked around at her sisters. “The one with the most value...”

“But you don’t have to. I will go,” Dahlia finished for her. “I saw it. It was fast and... and it was over. All the suffering was gone. Giselle’s sister can go to the city and maybe get a job. She finished school in the top five. Giselle fucked up school. She is meat now... meat I can’t even buy, just look at.”

Dahlia sighed. “I saw her... her meat. Arranged. Her cunt with...” She visibly shook. “Ovaries and all, laid out... just under her head.” There was a little shudder. “Her tits... were already gone when I came. I so loved to suck on her nipples, and now... now they are gone. A city woman bought them. Before I could even see them.” She shook her head. “I’m ready to go. End it.”

“I’m no better. I’m not into girls, and there are no available men. I can’t get a job either. I’m almost twenty-two,” Silk said.

Julia chuckled. “Funny. I’m twenty-six, and I’m past my prime. We are all fucked one way or the other.”

“We could all go, and Dad would get almost fifteen thousand. He could retire,” Dahlia said.

“No! Absolutely not. That’s insane. You can’t... that’s not... No!” Henry exclaimed.

“He is right,” Julia said. “That’s not going to happen. One of us is enough. We’ll see tomorrow how much we are worth, and then we’ll decide... together. The others will make a new start. Move to the city. Leave everything behind.”

“Do I have any say in this?” Henry asked.

“No, Dad. Sorry,” Silk said. “You don’t. Except, ‘Thank you, darling.’ And if it’s me, I want you to hold my hand until I’m gone.”

“Yeah, I would want that too,” Dahlia said.

“But you are going to be naked!” Henry protested. “I mean, you’re my daughters.”

“Dad. Whoever it is will be meat. Meat gets slaughtered naked,” Julia said matter-of-factly. “You will get over it. But yes, I want you there. I want you to hold my hand.”

Henry had no other choice but to nod.

 

They all went to the Butcher the next day. It was a nice shop. It made money, but mostly from out-of-town people. Locals couldn’t afford it, which was noticeable as soon as they walked in.

Dahlia noticed that almost nothing of Giselle was left. Just a hand, some internal organs, and her head. But even that looked different now. The eyes were missing, and the tongue had been taken out. She didn’t know that was something anyone would eat until she remembered they had eaten pigs’ ears before. They had been affordable.

“Can I help you?” the Butcher asked suspiciously.

“We want to know what we are worth... as meat,” Julia said.

The Butcher nodded and wiped his hands on his clean white apron. “Right. So, all three of you?”

Henry took over. “No, only one. The one who gets the best price.”

“But you want all three to be checked? That time spent has to come off the price you get for one,” the Butcher countered.

“Bullshit,” Dahlia said. “You did my friend for free.”

“No, I did not. She was meat, and we just negotiated the price. You three are people... that changes things.”

“Fine. One of us will give you a good fuck. Anything you want.”

“I can get a fuck from anyone for the price of a cut of meat. I just have to yell, and they come running. The point is, you could take my assessment, go to a different Butcher, and try to get more.”

“You’re the only one in town!” Julia countered. “Also... one of us will be meat. That’s fixed.”

The Butcher eyed them. Then he went to their father, holding out his hand. “One of your girls is meat. Today. After the assessment. Shake on it. On your honour.”

All the sisters looked at each other. They had thought they could go home and decide, but... as they looked at each other, they all started to nod. It was what it was. One more night or not. What did it matter?

Henry saw the nods and shook the Butcher’s hand. “On my honour.”

“Okay. Then let’s go to the back and see what you’re worth,” the Butcher said, opening the door to the back.

The butcher’s room was white-tiled, and as they walked in, bright lights flickered to life. Meat hooks, knives, machines... it looked like one would imagine a butcher’s room.

“Okay. Ladies, get naked, and let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Henry said.

“No, Dad. Stay,” Julia insisted.

“Okay...” he said tentatively. It would be awkward seeing his daughters naked. It wasn’t something a father should see after a certain age. But it had happened before; they shared a bathroom.

He knew what his daughters looked like. They were proper women. Even Dahlia, at eighteen and a half, was womanly. He hated that one of them would be slaughtered. This wasn’t the life he or their mother would have wanted for them. But it was what it was. They had been right: it wasn’t his decision, and the money from the slaughter would enable the others to survive.

They had to move to the city. Life here had no point anymore.

Dahlia was naked first and held her hands over her smaller breasts and pussy. She had inherited her mother’s massive, long legs. Silk was less shy. Her red hair was matched by a well-trimmed red bush; she had inherited that hair colour from him. Julia had big boobs and black hair, just like their mother had. He missed her a lot.

“Right. Let’s have a look at you,” the Butcher said and put his hands on Dahlia. She didn’t flinch, but it was still awkward to be naked and touched. The Butcher took her by the hips and slowly turned her around, looking her up and down. “Good. No tattoos, no skin defects.”

The Butcher’s hands wandered up her arms, squeezing the muscles on both sides, then her shoulders. He turned her around again and checked her back.

“Not much muscle meat.”

His hands came to her butt and squeezed both cheeks. “Firm.” Then he squatted and checked her legs. “They are better than the arms.”

Dahlia felt like a piece of meat. This wasn’t her anymore. Not the woman who could draw funny little comics or the one who loved Giselle. No, this was only about how her body could be taken apart and used.

The Butcher’s hand went between her legs, and Dahlia gasped as he squeezed her lips and pushed a finger into her. Then he licked his finger.

“Not bad. Firm. Used.” He looked up at her. “You’re a virgin? Be honest! I need to know how used your cunt is.”

Dahlia took a deep breath. “I’ve never had a dick in me, but my girlfriend—the one you slaughtered the other day—used to fist me,” she admitted, turning red.

The Butcher pushed more fingers into her, deeper this time. “Yeah. Well used. Just like the other one. That’s good. Your cunt muscles would make good meat.”

“Show me your tongue. Okay.” He looked at her eyes and ears too.

The Butcher stood back up and took her boobs in his hands. “Not much on them. Small. Firm.” He pulled on her nipples. “Good nipples.”

It felt so impersonal.

Finally, the Butcher led her over to a scale. “63.5 kilos. Let’s see...” He started scribbling figures on a piece of paper and using a calculator.

“Girl meat sells for between $70 and $80 a kilo, depending on the quality, cut, condition, and type of slaughter,” he said while calculating.

“I would pay $4,483 for her. The muscle meat on the upper body isn’t good. Her tits are small, but her cunt will sell well. Her arse and legs are good,” he said, looking at her father.

Now she knew what she was worth. She had followed his calculation. They received $365 a month in unemployment benefits. Her meat was worth more to the Butcher than she was as a person to the state.

Dahlia’s boobs were much smaller than Giselle’s, but she had no tattoo. The tattoo that had cost Giselle $30 and memorialised them both had lowered her value by $90. Dahlia was glad she hadn’t had the money to get one too.

“Giselle got $71 per kilo. Why am I only worth $70?” she asked.

“She had more muscle,” the Butcher noted absently, then walked over to Julia. “Let’s look at you. You have big tits. They’ll make good cuts.”

He squeezed them directly, weighing them in his hands. “That’s more than a kilo per tit, and they’re firm. They would sell well. Tit meat goes for almost $100 if it’s not just fat. Which they aren’t.”

Julia looked at the wall, trying to ignore the world around her. This would be over fast.

“How is your cunt?” the Butcher asked her.

“I’ve been fucked, but lately only by my vibrator,” she admitted. There was no shame in it.

The Butcher turned her around, touching her skin, then her arms and legs, stomach muscles, and arse, before finally inspecting her pussy. She had seen the process with Dahlia, and it felt as impersonal as it had looked. Just a meat inspection.

The Butcher went back to his calculations.

“$5,143.20. Her tits will sell well, and she has a better muscle-to-fat ratio, so $72 per kilo.”

“So, more muscle makes better meat?” Julia asked.

“Yes. Fat is nice, but the muscle-to-fat ratio is what I’m looking for. Okay. Let’s have a look at you,” the Butcher said, turning his attention to Silk.

“No. It’s going to be me,” Julia stated.

“But... that’s not fair. I could be worth more. Right?” Silk said, looking at the Butcher.

He slowly shook his head, but then stopped. “Well... maybe. Your red hair and your fair complexion. You would look good on a live spit. People pay for that. A lot.”

“Live spit?” Silk asked with a gasp.

“Yeah. Some rich folk like to spit a girl alive for their barbecue and let her roast. Not many agree to that, and that drives the price.”

“Does it hurt?” Silk asked timidly.

The Butcher blinked, astounded. “Absolutely. What do you think live spitting means? They push a spit into your arse and out through your mouth. You’ll still be alive when they put you over the coals. You’ll die while you’re being roasted. It can take up to an hour.”

“How much?” Silk asked.

Julia gasped. “No fucking way.”

Her father interjected forcefully.

The Butcher turned to Silk and looked her up and down professionally. “Turn,” he said, and Silk did.

“I’m not sure. But I would say between seven and eight thousand. More if you’re a virgin. Don’t ask. Seriously. But I would have to put a notice out and see who bites. I don’t do that here. I would sell you on.” He squeezed her tits again. “With a normal slaughter, you’re not worth as much as her. Her tits make all the difference.”

“So, it’s me. I’m the oldest. I have no fucking future, and I bring the highest price. I’m meat.” Julia insisted and turned to the Butcher. “Do me. Now.”

“Hold on a second. How is that fair?” Silk asked.

“It’s not. I decided. Done,” Julia said.

“Wait a minute.” Her father interrupted, turning to the Butcher. “She is well-built. You calculated $72 per kilo, and she weighs 70.5 kilos. That’s $5,076 just for the dead weight. Her breasts must be at least a kilo each, so that’s another $200. That makes $5,276, not $5,120. Are you trying to cheat us?”

The Butcher turned to him with a sheepish grin. “No. You’re counting the tits twice. They’re included in her total weight.”

He turned and lifted Julia’s right boob. “Together, they weigh about 2.4 kilos. That weight comes off before I calculate the rest of the body. So, it’s 68.1 kilos at seventy-two dollars, plus $240 for the tits. That comes to $5,143.20. But if you insist, we can weigh them again when they are off.”

“$5,145... that’s not good enough. I’m losing a daughter, so you need to do better than that. $80 per kilo for the rest of her body, plus $250 for the breasts.”

“Whoa! Now wait a second.”

“68.1 kilos at $80, plus $250 for the tits. That’s $5,698.”

“No way! I need to turn a profit. $73 per kilo and $225 for the tits.”

“That’s $5,196.30,” Henry said.

Julia felt like she had no control anymore, like she had already stopped existing. She had stopped being a person. She was only meat now, and her father was trying to get the best price. Her sisters had started to dress again. Somehow, she wasn’t nervous. But she felt that hollow feeling in her stomach.

“Why not $80?” her father asked.

“I get up to $80 for live-gutted meat. That’s in demand right now. Not that I get why. But it sells with a video clip of her slaughter. City pervs.”

Julia asked, “What does live-gutted mean?”

“Means I open you up and cut out your guts and everything else while you bleed out. Takes some time, and it hurts.”

Julia shuddered. Gutted alive. “$80 if you do that?”

The Butcher turned to her. Looked her up and down again. He was clearly calculating her meat. Not her. Not Julia. Just meat he would sell.

“You won’t die fast on me. So, let’s do $78 per kilo, 68.1 kilos of dead weight, live gutting, and $225 for the tits.” He used the calculator. “$5,536.80... so let’s say $5,550 total.”

“$5,600,” her father said, holding out his hand, and the Butcher shook it.

Julia felt hollow in her stomach. She had been sold. She took a ragged breath. She had no say in anything anymore. She was nothing more than meat that would be slaughtered. Now.

It didn’t matter, she tried to convince herself. Her family would survive. That was all that mattered anymore. Her life was worth something again. $5,600 would make it possible for them to have a future.

“Okay,” the Butcher said. “Then let’s get this going, so it’ll be over soon. The more nervous she is, the more the meat is tainted.”

Julia didn’t have a name anymore. Nothing. She was just meat that still happened to be alive.

“Can we stay?” Silk asked.

“No. She will scream and struggle, and I can’t have you freak out and stop me from slaughtering her the right way,” the Butcher insisted.

Julia clenched her teeth.

“I’ll get the money, and then we’ll get started. I don’t have all day. Sorry, but the butchering will take several hours,” the Butcher said, then went to the front of the shop.

Meat. Julia was just meat now. Not a person.

Silk came to her and hugged her, and Julia could feel her trembling and starting to cry.

Julia pushed Silk away and went to hug Dahlia. “No crying. Not now. Go. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks for...” But Dahlia couldn’t say the rest. She didn’t need to. The room with the knives, saws, and meat hooks was enough.

Julia tried to hold it together. Tried not to think about what was ahead of her. Six dollars more per kilo, around four hundred dollars more. A month and a bit of dole. All she had to do was hold it together while the Butcher gutted her alive. Then she would just be dead.

Her teeth clenched harder. She could do that. Take the pain, knowing that after it was done, she wouldn’t remember anyway. Meat was meat. Meat didn’t scream anymore. Meat had no memory. Julia would be gone.

Her father hugged her hard. “I’m sorry, and I’m proud of you,” he said, and that meant a lot to Julia. It helped.

The Butcher returned and counted out $5,600 into her father’s hand. He made Julia sign a paper, and that was that. Julia was meat. Just like that. Money in her father’s hand, and her last action as a human was signing her own slaughter.

It was disturbing, knowing that she had just sold herself as meat. As food. Her life was over.

Her family left, and Julia went with the Butcher to the toilet. Julia was glad they were gone. It would be harder to go through it with them watching. She trembled a little.

“Okay. Now pee, and then put that tube up your butt. We need your guts as empty and clean as possible.”

“I still have a name. It’s Julia.”

The Butcher shook his head. “Sorry, you don’t. You are only meat to me now. Use the tube and get the shit out of your guts.” After a moment, he added, “Please.”

How degrading this was. She could feel the water pushing into her arse, and then it exploded out of her. The Butcher watched and had her repeat it until only clean water came out.

“Good. Let’s get started,” the Butcher said, escorting her back into the butcher’s room.

He set up a small camera and had her stand against the wall. “Okay. This one is twenty-six years old, 68.1 kilos of dead weight. D-cup tits, estimated at around 1.2 kilos each. Live gutting.”

The Butcher went to get two meat hooks and came back to her. “Hands.”

Julia closed her eyes. She held out her hands, and they trembled.

“Deep breath now,” the Butcher said as she felt the cold metal point against her wrist.

Then she screamed as the meat hook burrowed through her skin and muscle and passed between the bones.

“Other hand,” she heard him say, but she was lost in the pain, sobbing and crying as she looked at the grotesque sight of the meat hook sticking out of her right wrist.

The Butcher grabbed her other hand and pushed the second meat hook through. The pain was as intense as the first time. Then he pulled her arms up, and she screamed again as he hung her on the wall. Most of her weight rested on the meat hooks in her wrists, stretching her and making her scream even more. She stood on her toes, which took some of the pressure off her aching wrists.

“Please. Please. Just kill me. Please,” she pleaded.

But the Butcher didn’t reply or care. He went over to his table and picked up a gutting knife and a sharpener. He used the sharpener to sharpen the knife. Julia watched in horror and pleaded, but there was no reply. No acknowledgement in his eyes. To him, she was not human anymore.

The Butcher set the knife against her stomach and slit her open from left to right. A line of fire blazed across her stomach as he opened her up. Julia looked down and could see yellow fat, red blood, and the dull colour of her intestines spilling out.

The Butcher then opened the cut from her pubic bone to her sternum, slowly and methodically. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She thrashed, and her legs quivered. Her wrists hurt more with every movement, but she could not hold still. She screamed and wasn’t sure whether she was cursing, pleading, or just speaking gibberish.

The Butcher stepped back and used the camera for a close-up of the cut, her face, and the pee running down her leg.

Then he put the camera back on the stand and pulled the cut open with both hands. Julia felt as if something had dropped out of her. As if she had lost weight.

Her vision swam, and she blacked out.

New pain woke her. She felt empty, lighter. Beneath her, she could see her open, empty stomach and, below it, an armful of intestines in a bucket. She felt light-headed. Not real anymore. Everything was wrong.

“You’re doing well. Stay with me, and your dad gets another $50. If you remain conscious until I cut your tits off, he gets $100 in total.”

Nothing she heard made much sense anymore. She only understood that she needed to stay alive.

The Butcher had his hands inside her body, cutting things out. It was surreal. Julia didn’t know whether it was real, a fever dream, or... Her consciousness was fading.

“Good. You’re mostly empty. I left the stuff in you that you need for a few more minutes. Let’s cut off your tits.”

She watched as a knife was set against her left boob, then felt the fire as it cut into her skin and flesh. She screamed but could not look away as her boob was cut from her body.

Blackness came.

Fire woke her again as he cut into her other boob. She felt disoriented. There was a hole where her breast had been, but it lay on a table over there. Then another boob was placed next to it. Nothing made sense.

“2.6 kilos. Good weight. I won’t cheat your father. You’re did really well. You can be proud of yourself.”

The Butcher came to her again and reached into her body. Nothing felt real anymore. His hand disappeared into her as if she were as empty as she felt. Something happened, and she felt herself fading. Her eyes focused on the hand in front of her, holding some red meat that was pulsing.

Darkness claimed her again, and this time it stayed.

 

They sat at the table again. This time, there was electric light. The rent had been paid, and they had food. Good food. Food that not only sustained them but tasted like food should, rather than merely providing essential vitamins, proteins, and all the other things they needed to survive.

Nobody said anything. Julia’s place was empty, but Silk had still set a plate there out of habit, and nobody had the nerve to take it away.

The Butcher had brought over an envelope with another $125 in it. He had said that her tits had weighed in at 2.6 kilos and that she had stayed alive long enough to earn the extra money. Her meat was already selling really well. He had offered to show them her slaughter, but nobody wanted to see it. Nobody wanted to think about how much she must have suffered before it was over.

It didn’t make anyone feel any better. Not at all.

They would need to make plans. Real plans. Julia’s meat money would not last forever, and they needed to make sure it did something for their future.

Move to the city. Find jobs. Create a future.

They ate well for the first time in months.

 

 

Silvia spent the night at home, helping her dad clean up. Gill told her she would make room in their closet for her so she could move some of her clothes to their place. Silvia knew that Gill desperately wanted Silvia to move in. Silvia was still a little unsure. She liked them, but it was so fast. It frightened her a bit.

Monday morning, Anne looked exhausted but extremely content. Silvia pumped her for information about her weekend, but got nothing. Anne didn’t even say much at lunch with the others. The only clue they had was that Anne shifted around on her butt a lot, which told everyone enough about how properly she had been worked out. Ramona didn’t stop teasing her until Alex said, “Shut up, Ramona. You’re coming with me next Friday. See how you do.”

“Hey... wait... no,” she protested.

“Yes, Ramona, darling, you are... I’ll even help tie you up so Alex can take good care of you too,” Anne said sweetly, with revenge in her voice. “Hels, Silvi... wanna come along? Get worked out too?”

“No thanks, Anne. I have a relationship I’m trying to work on. Those two keep me occupied and satisfied,” Silvia said and smiled. She planned to spend most nights with them to see how it went with them, and it wasn’t only the sex they had, but so far, they kind of all clicked.

“Silvia’s dad is a cannon in bed. I don’t need more,” Helena added with a very bright smirk.

Silvia groaned, and Helena just laughed. “Oh... my...” she said teasingly. “Is that too much for your fragile nerves? Thinking of your dad having sex with your...” Her smirk grew even wider, “stepmom... on the couch... on the kitchen bench—”

“Shut up, Hels. Seriously,” Silvia growled. “Or I’ll tell you all about your twins’ kinky sex fantasies.”

Helena stared at her with an open mouth and then snapped it shut. “Yeah, fine. Got it.”

“Oh, I like this. Hels this is good for you.” Alexandra squeezed Helena’s shoulder. Helena and Alexandra were more like sisters than anything else. They must have a lot of history together. Silvia didn’t know Alexandra well enough yet, but she knew that Alexandra was more than just an aunt to the twins.

After a second, Helena grew serious. “Silvia. Please... make sure they make good decisions. I trust you. They’re not necessarily listening to me anymore.”

“It’s fine. I got it. I’ve already set them straight about a few things. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure...” But she couldn’t help it, so she added, “...they listen to their big sister.”

The rest of the girls just stared at them.

“Seriously? Hels and Silvia’s dad? It’s that serious?” asked Melissa, surprised.

“Maybe... I think...” admitted Helena, embarrassed, something Silvia hadn’t seen on Helena before.

Silvia turned to her. “I would like that. I’m for it... Mama.” And she dissolved into laughter.

Helena rolled her eyes. “We’ll see. I would like that... too, but...”

“I’ll talk to him. I think he feels he can’t because of me. Because Mum had to go.”

Helena took her hand, smiled reassuringly, and squeezed it.

“I’m the bridesmaid!” Anne squeaked excitedly.

“Trust me,” Alexandra said dryly. “After THAT weekend, there’s nothing even remotely maiden about you anymore.” Anne turned bright red, and everyone laughed.

On Tuesday morning, Helena took Silvia aside.

“Today, our last client is a customisation. I promised Alex I’d take care of that one. She needs a break; Rose last week was hard for her.”

“OK...” Silvia said carefully. This would be her first customisation. Silvia wasn’t sure whether she should be looking forward to it or dreading it.

“It’s a simple axe beheading with some roleplay.” Simple? Silvia thought. With an axe? But Helena just continued. “We will set up together. It will be your first, and you need to get used to it. It’s very different. But it’s wanted.”

“OK. Do you know why she wants that?” Silvia asked, interested.

“No, and most of the time we never know. You don’t ask such things. Leonie wants to be beheaded, with some roleplay, and we have Michael to fuck her.”

Silvia stared. “Fuck her?”

“Yes. The theme she wants is the following: she is accused of adultery and is to be executed. Melissa will also be there playing the judge. She wants to be humiliated as part of it.” Helena studied her. “Do you think you can deal with that?”

“Humiliated?” Silvia was taken aback; she really didn’t understand why someone wanted to die like this. She wanted to feel loved if she had to be slaughtered.

“Yes. Leonie wants to be humiliated. She wants to be handled rough, and shamed as a slut, fucked, and then, when she comes, beheaded. Also, we have an audience—her lover and three of her friends.”

That was a lot. Humiliation, beheading, and an audience? They had audiences from time to time. It wasn’t common, but it happened often enough—parents, lovers, sisters, friends. They came to say goodbye, to be there so the woman wouldn’t die alone. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes it didn’t.

Silvia had seen parents or lovers lose it in the viewing galleries, when they couldn’t accept what was happening and only made it worse for the woman. Sometimes the woman being slaughtered couldn’t let go, especially if someone in the gallery was falling apart. But almost every time, they managed to bring her to orgasm so she could go painlessly and in peace.

In the past six months, there had been only one case where they’d had to slit the woman’s throat and let her bleed out without her getting the benefit of an orgasm. Helena hated that, and Silvia understood why.

“Anyway, you need to get used to customisations. When Melissa sits her exams next month and gets accredited, you will start to work with Alex. I need to find a new apprentice.”

That stopped Silvia. Helena wouldn’t be her mentor anymore? “But... I still have so much to learn from you.”

“Yes, you do, and I will teach you. But there are things I can’t teach you because I’m not good at them myself. Alex can, and I think it will benefit you. So stop making that face. Seriously.”

Still, Silvia felt that hole open in her stomach. This didn’t feel right, but she understood why.

Together, they set up Slaughter Room 3, the kink room. They set up the beheading block, smeared it with fake blood, and scattered washable straw around it. Helena retrieved an axe from her office. Silvia was a bit perplexed; she had seen the axe on the wall together with one very old wrist ID band. She wondered about it, but Helena gave no explanation, and Silvia felt she shouldn’t ask.

Michael, the man brought in for Leonie’s final sex, was tall, muscular, and intimidating. His package was enormous, and he wore only a hangman’s hood. Silvia couldn’t help but stare. She still didn’t understand Leonie’s fantasy, but the idea of being taken by a man rather than using a vibrator was somehow... appealing.

Helena made the introductions, and Silvia tried to keep her eyes on his, which wasn’t easy.

When everything was ready, Helena gave the green light for the audience to be let into the viewing gallery.

Helena stood before the audience. “Thanks for coming. Last warning: this will be brutal, gruesome, and bloody. This is not what happens in ninety-five percent of our cases. Last chance to leave.”

Nobody moved.

“OK. So, Leonie asked for the following: she is convicted as a slut and will be publicly executed. She wants to be treated rough and brutal, so again, please don’t think this is normal. It isn’t easy for us, either. She wants to cry, scream, and beg for her life. Please keep that in mind.”

Helena paused to let it sink in.

“This is what she wants, so we try to fulfil her wish. We will transmit her check-in to you so you can hear for yourself. She wants to be fucked, and when she orgasms, she wants the axe to fall. There will be lots of blood, and it will be gruesome. There are bags to your right.”

Helena looked around the audience.

“She wants an audience, and she wants you to boo her like a slut in the marketplace. She asked for humiliation.”

Helena stared each audience member down. “She has a safe word: ‘strawberry.’ If she uses that, it means this isn’t going as she hoped, and she wants it to end. If that happens, I need you to shut up immediately.” Helena paused again to let that sink in. “I will kill her as fast as I can. It won’t be pretty, but it will be quick. Understood?”

She waited until each person nodded.

“Thanks for coming and making HER wish come true. You are here for HER. Remember that.”

Helena breathed in deeply and turned to Silvia.

“OK, Silvia. We’ve left her waiting long enough. Let’s get started. Focus on Leonie. That’s what matters now—her wish, her dream, her slaughter. Focus. Ready?”

Silvia took several deep breaths and nodded.

Helena pressed the button to signal Anne to bring Leonie in.

Leonie was twenty-one and walked tall and only slightly nervous into the prep room. Silvia scanned her chip and confirmed her identity.

“So, Leonie, I need to go over your customisation. Answer every question with a clear yes or no. Ready?”

Leonie nodded and gave a crooked smile. “Sorry, I’m nervous. I’ve dreamed about this. I’m a bit excited and nervous—it’s going to be my last-ever roleplay, and I want it to be good. Sorry. Yes, ready.”

“You selected beheading with an axe.”

“Yes.”

“You want to be treated rough, hard, and brutal.”

“Yes.”

“You want to be humiliated.”

“Yes.”

“You want no audience.”

Leonie hesitated, then answered, her voice small. “No, I wanted my lover and my friends here.”

Helena’s tone softened. “They are here and waiting. Sorry, this was a check question—we need to make sure you’re paying attention.”

Leonie’s face lit up. “I understand... and thanks. This makes me feel heard.”

Silvia absorbed that: Makes me feel heard. Yes, she understood that. Being acknowledged mattered. Her wishes and her slaughter mattered.

“You want to be fucked with your head on the block and beheaded when you cum.”

“Yes.”

“We gave you a safe word.”

“Strawberry.”

“Good. You understand that if you use your safe word, I will kill you as fast as possible. There is no turning back. It will hurt, it might be rough, but it will be fast. You'll be dead.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

Leonie hesitated again. “I understand that my head might be alive for a few seconds. Can you show me my body?”

Helena nodded. “Yes, we can do that. Silvia, that will be your job.”

Silvia flinched slightly. That request was... strange... but somehow intimate.

“OK, Anne. Thanks, we’re done,” Helena finished the intake.

Anne smiled at Leonie and said her customary, “Thank you for contributing to a better tomorrow.”

Leonie grinned. “Thank you.”

As Anne left, Helena turned back to Leonie. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Leonie said, smiling. It was rare for a woman to come to them smiling, but it was nice. She knew she needed to die, but she had decided to do it her way. She was living out her dream.

Helena reached out slowly toward Leonie’s head, giving her every chance to flinch away. Leonie didn’t. Helena took a fistful of her hair and jerked her head around.

She’d explained the process to Silvia earlier: Move slowly. See how she reacts. Give her a chance to back out. Adjust as needed.

“Silvia, bind that dirty slut’s hands,” Helena spat harshly, her voice sharp and angry.

Silvia froze, taken aback. She had never heard Helena sound like that before. But when she saw Leonie willingly put her hands behind her back, she recovered quickly. Leonie was completely on board with this. She wanted it. Silvia would honour her wish and concentrate on its fulfilment.

With deft movements, Silvia bound Leonie’s hands tightly, trying to make it painful just as Helena had instructed. It wasn’t easy—she was used to handling women gently.

“Don’t look at us, you dirty slut. Sluts like you deserve what they’re getting,” Helena hissed, spitting on Leonie. Saliva dripped down Leonie’s chest, and she trembled, her breath hitching.

“Drag that piece of filth out. Let’s get this over with. I want dinner—not to waste my time with her stinking slut like her,” Helena snapped.

Silvia stiffened. She understood what Leonie wanted, but it was still hard to say those things and treat her this way. Helena’s eyes bore into her, demanding she follow through.

Silvia clenched her jaw. She needed to do this for Leonie, just as she would need to pull a knife across a woman’s throat someday. She had to give a piece of herself.

Now she understood why Alex broke down last week. You have to give something of yourself.

She took a deep breath, grabbed Leonie’s hair, and pulled her along through the door into Slaughter Room 3. At first, it felt wrong, but Leonie was cooperating, in a way. Silvia could feel that, and that gave her more confidence to handle her more roughly.

As she dragged her in, Silvia stopped for a second, caught off guard by the sight before her. The walls displayed projections of a medieval mob, shouting obscenities. Her friends in the viewing gallery joined in. Silvia hadn’t known they had projectors for that. Wow. The computer-generated images made it feel like they were surrounded by an angry mob baying for blood.

Helena shoved Leonie forward. “Move it, stupid slut.”

It felt strange—artificial, like a play—but Silvia forced herself to go along. This was not about what Silvia wanted. It was what Leonie wanted.

Melissa stepped forward. She had dressed up as a judge. She sneered. “Kneel, you slut.”

Leonie obeyed immediately, falling to her knees in front of the chopping block.

“You have been convicted of adultery,” Melissa continued. “You’re going to lose your head for that.”

Leonie’s voice cracked as she begged. “No! I didn’t do it. I’m a virgin! I didn’t do it. Please don’t kill me!” Leonie was really playing her role. She wanted this.

“You claim to be virtuous? A virgin?” Melissa spat. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ve never had sex—never! Please don’t kill me!”

“We’ll see.” Helena gestured to Silvia. “Hold her head.”

Silvia stepped behind Leonie, her hands trembling slightly as she took hold of her head.

Michael stepped forward, towering over Leonie and even over Silvia. He was a lot! Melissa’s voice was gruff. “This is the test to see if you’re telling the truth. Open your mouth, slut.”

Leonie obeyed, her lips parting. Michael shoved his not-yet-hard dick into her mouth.

“Silvia,” Helena said sharply, “use her head. If he gets stiff, it’s proof she’s a slut and must die.”

Silvia froze, unsure how to proceed. She had never forced anyone like this. She looked down at Leonie, hesitating.

“I have nothing to fear from your test,” Leonie said, her voice muffled around Michael’s large dick. “It will show I’m telling the truth.”

Leonie’s calm words were enough. Silvia tightened her grip on Leonie’s head and began forcing it forward and back, ramming Michael deeper into her throat. Leonie gagged, her breath hitching.

“Deeper,” Helena ordered. “Take her breath away. Sluts like her don’t deserve to breathe the same air we do.”

Steeling herself, Silvia complied, pushing Leonie harder. She gagged violently as Michael began to stiffen, his cock growing in her throat and stealing her air.

Melissa stepped forward, grabbed Leonie’s head, and shoved her onto the ground. Leonie gasped for breath, coughing and choking.

“There we go,” Melissa said. “He’s stiff. That’s all the proof we need. You’re a slut. You’ll die for that.”

Between breaths, Leonie sobbed. “But I’m a virgin! I’ve never had sex!”

“Silvia, put her on the block. We’ve heard enough. Let her head roll.”

Silvia grabbed Leonie by the hair and yanked her to her feet. She dragged her back onto the block, securing her upper body quickly, making it as painful as she could. It wasn’t easy. To do it properly, Silvia had to want to hurt her. Silvia didn’t like to hurt anyone. Honestly, she didn’t know how to do it on purpose.

“She claims to be a virgin?” Helena scoffed. “Go fuck her raw.”

Michael stepped forward again and thrust into her so hard that she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. He pounded into her relentlessly, grabbing her hair to hold on to her. Leonie screamed and thrashed, but Silvia could also clearly hear how turned on Leonie was, how she enjoyed this, how she wanted the pain. She pushed actively back against Michael. This was all so new to Silvia. She had never fucked rough before, had never even seen it. Somehow, it did turn her on. She wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.

Leonie came, but Michael didn’t stop fucking her hard. Leonie started pleading and begging that she was sore. So, he pulled out and then pressed against her other entrance.

“No! No! I’ve never—ahhh! It hurts! Please, no! Please!” Leonie screamed, tears streaming down her face as Michael forced himself into her arse. Silvia was shocked for a second until she saw Leonie push back again against Michael. Michael ignored her pleas, grunting as he thrust harder. Leonie sobbed, her body writhing against the restraints.

It still looked brutal. But Leonie had asked for this. All of it. And she wasn’t using her safe word.

He pulled out abruptly and thrust back into her pussy, moving with the same brutal rhythm. Leonie was just a sobbing, crying mess.

Melissa handed Helena a large axe, then knelt by Leonie’s side. Michael stopped. His dick deep in her arse. Melissa’s tone was gentle. “Any last words, Leonie? This is the end.” She stroked Leonie’s hair, her touch tender.

Leonie gasped, her voice weak but clear. “Angela... I love you, baby. Thanks for this. Thanks for being with me.”

Her expression shifted, defiant and proud. “Now make the slut suffer before her head comes off!”

Michael slammed into her again, his thrusts shaking the block as the audience erupted into screams and jeers.

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

“You deserve this!”

Silvia knelt, gripping Leonie’s hair tightly to keep her head steady. How did Helena do this? How do you even learn to use an axe to behead someone?

Leonie moaned as her body began to tense, Michael switching to her pussy again. She screamed, begged, and pleaded, her cries growing more desperate. Michael groaned loudly, his voice raw. “I’m cumming deep in that dirty slut’s Cunt!”

Leonie arched, her entire body shaking as she came hard with him.

Helena swung the axe with precision. It sliced clean through Leonie’s neck, and her head came off in one stroke. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, drenching Silvia as she held on to Leonie’s head. But Silvia didn’t flinch. She had been prepared for that. She concentrated on what she had to do for Leonie. Silvia stood, holding Leonie’s head by the hair. Her eyes and mouth were still moving.

As shocked as Silvia was at that, she steeled herself and turned Leonie’s head so she could see her own body. Michael was still thrusting into Leonie’s headless body. The muscles twitched involuntarily, her back arched, one leg kicked, and blood pulsed from her neck.It was bizarre. Silvia just hoped Leonie got everything she wanted in her final moments.

“I love you, Leonie!” her lover screamed, her voice breaking.

Helena knelt by the corpse. “Heart stopped.” Then she checked Leonie’s head. “Birth chip shows no brain function. She’s gone.”

Michael pulled out of the body, his chest heaving as he stepped away from the body and left the room.

Silvia laid the head gently on the straw, smoothing the blood-matted hair. “Thank you for contributing to a better tomorrow.”

Helena turned to the audience. Leonie’s lover was surrounded by her friends, sobbing uncontrollably.

They waited for the room to quiet down. When the cries softened, Helena addressed them.

“We will now gut and butcher her. She wanted her lover to have her Tits and Shoulders. You can wait and watch, or we can send them out.”

The lover shook her head, her voice shaky. “Please send them. I can’t watch more. I respected her wish, and it was... good. Her ultimate sex fantasy. But enough... for me.”

Helena nodded, bowing slightly. “Thank you for continuing to contribute to a better tomorrow.”

After the audience left, Helena turned to Silvia. “You okay?”

Now that it was done, Silvia could let herself feel the weight of everything. She had been focused on Leonie’s needs, her wishes. But now Leonie’s head lay on the floor beside her headless corpse, and the rush of adrenaline faded.

“I don’t know,” Silvia admitted. “Happy she got what she wanted. Horrified by what we did...”

Helena nodded knowingly. “It’s like that, isn’t it? It was her wish, and she seemed happy to be slaughtered that way.”

Silvia nodded.

“Okay,” Helena said, looking at the mess around them. “Let’s clean up here, drain what’s left in her and gut her, and then we will put her on ice. We also need to clean her Cunt before we can cut it out. I’ll show you. Can’t have semen in there. Health regulation 25c. Then we head home. Or do you need a drink?”

“I want to see my guys.” Silvia hesitated. “I think I need...” She trailed off, unable to find the words for what she wanted and needed.

Helena didn’t push. Together, they butchered Leonie’s carcass, carefully setting aside the requested parts for her lover. They packed and cleaned everything, leaving the room spotless, as if this had never happened.

When Silvia arrived at Donny and Gill’s, she walked straight into Donny’s arms. He wrapped her up, and Gill joined them, holding her tightly.

Silvia let out a long breath. She felt like she could finally breathe again.

“Bad day at work?” Gill asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Silvia mumbled, her face buried in Donny’s chest. “Horrifying... confronting... good... I don’t know. She got what she wanted, but...”

“Okay, baby,” Gill said gently. “What do you need?”

“I... I need to feel alive. I need...” Donny took her hand and led her and Gill to the bedroom. They helped by making love to her, letting her forget for a while and feel loved and grounded again. And that was exactly what she needed.

“Feeling better, baby?” Gill asked, sliding off Silvia’s face and collapsing beside her.

“Yes, honey. Much better,” Silvia said, her voice soft and steady, the afterglow of her orgasm grounding her.

Donny was still inside her, his weight comforting. He stroked her breasts. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “It would freak you out. It kind of freaked me out.”

Gill shifted beside her, propping herself up. Silvia moved with her, lying her head between her legs on her swollen tummy. Donny kept his dick in her and gently stroked her body. She liked being in the middle of them.

“I sent out ninety-eight Letters today,” Gill said quietly. “That’s ninety-eight women who’ll be slaughtered in less than a week. As I printed those Letters... they died. They have no other choice but to walk to their slaughter and become Girl meat. It’s not easy, not on a day like this.”

She paused. “There was a week we celebrated in the office, when we only needed to print fourteen.”

Silvia exhaled, feeling the weight of her day mixing with Gill’s words. “Yes, and I will help a tiny number of these ninety-eight find a more dignified end. I know that. But...”

Gill cuddled closer. “Then tell us. Share.”

Silvia let her body relax and began talking, spilling everything about the day.

“Beheaded while being fucked?” Donny asked, his tone doubtful.

Gill stroked her head. “No, Donny, I get that. If you have to die, at least make it good. Special. Go out with a bang.”

“Really? Honey?” Donny interjected, amused. “As a guy, that must be tough. I mean, you’re fucking a corpse.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Silvia admitted. “That must be hard. But the idea of being fucked... that’s something. But the axe and... being alive long enough to see yourself. I don’t think that’s for me.”

“I’m not sure I’d like that—seeing you fucked by someone else,” Donny said, stroking her body. Silvia smiled at him.

Gill hesitated, then asked quietly, “If you ever have to be slaughtered, do you want us to come?”

Silvia didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I would want that.” And she leaned over and kissed her and then Donny.

She cuddled closer to them, letting their warmth surround her. She truly liked them, and they seemed to feel the same.

Later that night, when Gill slept as usual, half over her, and Donny had his arms around her, she finally felt safe enough to think about Leonie. She understood her a bit better now, her wish to go out in a fantasy.

She had some secret fantasies of her own about how she would want to be slaughtered, if it ever came to it.

But looking at her lovers, she knew she couldn’t do this to them, and some of them disturbed even her. She cuddled deeper into Donny and pulled Gill closer. But Leonie’s wish had been for her last experience, not her lover's wishes.

Silvia just hoped that she would never have to make that decision, but she knew she should prepare for it. She had six more years. Would she make it?

Stop overthinking it. She had no control over her fate anyway. Shut... up and live large and bold. She smiled and cuddled deeper into her lovers, falling asleep.

The hot water worked wonders on their legs. The riders took their ponies out of the hot water and onto the grass to let the sun dry them off. It was a very new setting for the ponies. Not only were there more riders and ponies than they had ever encountered, but they all interacted with each other and them. They were eyed by riders and ponies alike. Especially Julia, but she was used to that.

Andrea let go of her old ideas even more. She was a pony, and there were other ponies around her; all of them liked her, except for the branding. She knew she would soon be branded, and she was torn. On one hand, she wanted to be just like the other ponies here, belong to something, and fit into something. On the other side, she didn’t look forward to the pain it involved. She didn’t know how the branding would be done, but she was sure it would involve pain. But as she studied the other ponies, she found them all content and maybe even happy. The pain of the branding would go away. The brand, and the fact of being a mare would stay with her forever.

The issue for Maria was that she felt she didn’t fit in. She felt as if all the world knew she was from the slums. She knew that was not true; she looked just like all the other ponies, but until she was branded, she would feel like an outsider. She didn’t know how she should behave with the other ponies or riders and kept very close to her rider.

Other ponies and riders were nothing new for Julia. She was envious of the branded mares. She wanted a brand too, wanted to be a proper pony. She could not wait until they pressed the white-hot branding iron to her arse cheek. She would be so happy when they did. She knew it would hurt; she had seen it often enough, but that pain would disappear. Her brand would stay. She would be a Farm pony.

George ogled the other mares, their vulvas, their tits, their arses and their decorations. Rings through the nipples or clits, piercings, tattoos, special harnesses, chastity belts. He wondered if Henry wanted to modify him in any way, but he also remembered that he had been. His balls hung much lower because of the ball stretcher, and the vacuum had increased his dick’s girth.

But it didn’t matter; he wanted to have all the fillies Henry would allow him. Andrea had said she would take his seed, and he wondered if he could be a stud pony, too. He wasn’t sure if Henry would allow it. Would Henry want kids? George was not sure he wanted them. He wasn’t good with kids.

Maria stomped her attention; she needed to pee, and Andrea stomped too.

Pen stood up. “Give her to me. I’ll take them; I need to go too.”

“Thanks. I’m too lazy to get up, and she is unbranded. Don’t need someone stealing my pony.” As if Andrea wanted to be stolen. But then she saw Melissa wink at her. She knew they weren’t allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied, and Andrea wondered why. But stealing wasn’t it.

Pen took them to the manure area for ponies, next to the regular toilets for the riders. She watched them pee, and Maria knew that her rider liked watching her pee for some reason. So she made an effort to do it properly, keeping it off her legs and making sure her rider could see. If that was something she liked, she would have no issues with that. Andrea had stopped bothering about it a long time ago. The carousel had trained a lot of shame out of her. She just didn’t want it to go on her legs. Pen cleaned them up herself afterwards, then tethered them, and went to the proper human toilets herself.

When they returned, several ponies were playing a kind of soccer with a massively oversized beach ball. The ponies used their bodies instead of their feet or hands to push the ball into the other side's goal. Currently, it was bridled against unbridled ponies.

Pen let Maria off the lead. “Go and play with the other ponies. I’ll watch.” Maria looked at Pen, unsure, but Penelope smiled at her. “Come on, be a happy pony and play with the others. I will cheer you on.” Maria neighed happily and hurried over, her tail flying after her.

She then brought Andrea back to her rider. “Thanks for taking her Pen. Andrea, wanna play too? No? Ok, then be a good pony, lie down and let me play with your tits.”

Charles counted the ponies playing. “Julia, let me take your bridle off so you can play too. But don’t play too wild.” He said as he unfastened Julia's bridle. She bolted to the field, totally forgetting his last words.

Melissa’s hands were all over Andrea’s body. Andrea didn’t mind; she could see and hear some riders having sex with their ponies, and nobody batted an eye. She wouldn’t mind being made to cum again, so she wiggled herself closer into Melissa to give her all the access she needed. Melissa took advantage of it, playing with her vulva and tits. “I was wrong. I don’t like the Brazilian. There are no hairs to play with. And the landing stripe makes your legs look longer. So, we will go back to that.” She didn’t care about it as long as it was neat and not a Stone Age bush, like some other pony she had seen.

Henry had taken George’s bit out and freed his arms. He had him swimming breaststroke in the pool on a long lead attached to his bridle, urging him faster.

“I need to train your back muscles more. When you are branded, we go back to the gym, but for now, this works.” This only cemented for George why Henry was the right rider and husband for him. He was interested in his well-being.

Julia and Maria had fun playing with the other ponies. Charles had to shout a few times to remind Julia not to play too rough. But they had fun. Pen cheered her Maria on, and that made her feel so much better.

Melissa took Andrea’s bit out and said casually, “Make me cum.” Melissa leaned back and spread her legs. Andrea wasn’t fond of licking pussy, but her rider demanded it, and she had learned to do it properly over the last month, so she did.

She wasn’t into the taste of a woman, and without arms to hold her up, her whole weight was on her face, pressing her even deeper into Melissa’s pussy. “You do that very nicely. Slow down. I want to enjoy this.” So Andrea did. Licking her between her folds, her entrance and sucking occasionally on her clit. At least Melissa had a full Brazilian; she had once satisfied a rider in the weeks past who had a massive bush that had been unpleasant with hairs getting in her throat. She hated that.

When Melissa finally came, Andrea used the skills she had acquired to make it last. “You are such a good pony.” Melissa took her head and kissed her with passion and affection. She liked that better than licking pussy. But then Melissa had licked her a few times too, and that had been nice indeed.

Julia and Maria had returned to their riders. Charles had to clean Julia up again; she had dirt and grass all over her from playing too rough. He berated her while he hosed her down. Juli ignored it and happily turned, excited, in the cold spray of the water.

Everyone relaxed more. Charles made Julia ride his dick, but she didn’t really know how to do it properly. Pen came and instructed the young filly on how to do it properly.

“That got me all hot and bothered. But I don’t like it in public,” Pen said.

“Take her to her stall. It’s almost feeding time anyway,” Melissa replied, her pony cuddled against her side.

“True. Come. You need to give your rider a good fuck.” Penelope decided and led Maria off.

When they arrived in her stall, Penelope produced a strap-on, attached it to Maria’s harness, and bent over against the stall wall. “All right, darling. Give it to me. Hard.”

Maria struggled. It wasn’t easy, especially as she had no hands to steer that thing properly. How did stallions deal with that? The dildo fell out of Penelope quite often, and she started to get frustrated. Penelope guided her and instructed her until she finally got it right. She enjoyed making her rider squeal and moan. It was fun to be a stallion. “Harder. Much harder. Fuck! That’s much better. Yes, hurt me, Darling. That’s a good filly. I’m cumming. Harder.” And Penelope screamed her orgasm out loudly and then sank to the floor.

“That’s much better. I’m too loud for the public. I get all the stallions riled up. I caused a stampede once when I was young, and that massive stallion fucked me to within an inch of my life. Come here and cuddle with me. That’s a good pony.”

After the evening feed, they were stabled, and good night treats were given.

Henry opted to put George’s lead onto the lower ring but freed his arms. “We need to work on your back. Fifty push-ups before I come to you in the morning. Now suck me off.”

George didn’t mind. The machines and the male riders had trained him to lose all inhibitions, and with Henry, at least, it was fun as he pinched his nipples hard while he sucked him. He liked that. As Henry was about to come, he pulled out of the colt’s mouth and spewed his load over his face. “You are mine. Don’t wipe that away; that stays on you tonight. So you know who owns you.” George neighed. With Henry’s seed on his face, he felt very owned and somehow proud.

“Does anyone want their filly covered? George needs a treat, he is such a good colt.” Henry asked loudly.

“Maria needs a good fuck. I’ll bring her over.” replied Penelope and arrived shortly with her.

“Come, old girl, I cuddle with you while we watch these two having fun,” Henry said, taking Penelope in a loving embrace, and she leaned her head against him.

“Thanks Henry. I like watching her getting a good proper fuck. She looks so beautiful when she comes.”

“I like watching him enjoying himself too. It’s a bit of a turn-on.”

George fucked Maria hard. Really hard. He had arms, and he held her hip in place. With Henry’s cum on his face, he wanted to show his rider that he could perform. Maria loved every second of it and was happy that her Rider allowed her to enjoy a colt. Pen was a good rider.

“George, don’t cum in her,” he heard his rider say through the sex fog in his brain. So he just made that filly scream.

After Maria had cum and Penelope had put her back into her stall, Henry knelt down in front of his colt and sucked his dick. It only took a few strokes before George came into Henry’s mouth. Henry swallowed while using his tongue to make it last longer for George. George was a bit perplexed. Henry was the rider, the dominant one, and he had never done anything like it. But he was good, and it made George feel so good to be sucked slowly but intensely and expertly.

Henry stood up and kissed George slowly and intensely. George had not been kissed by a man before, and it was very different from what he remembered a woman’s kiss being like. It had been ages. It wasn’t so bad, just not as soft and that in itself was interesting. Cum was a taste he would never get used to, but what did that matter anyway? “I belong to you as you belong to me.” Said Henry as he embraced his pony and cuddled it.

It felt good to be owned and taken care of. His life could have ended with his balls on a plate before him or his blood seeping away in the arena sand. Henry did care about him. That was all he needed, the rest…what did it matter?

Charles just masturbated his pony while his dick was in her mouth. Then he put her lead on the lower ring and tied her legs together. “I like you like that. All tied up. Get used to sleeping like that. Good night, Crazy.” And he kissed her head and left. It felt strange to be tied up like that, and it took her a while to sleep.

Melissa put a lot of healing cream on Andrea and then used a powerful vibrator to make them both cum while they scissored.

“Don’t cum before I do… you learned that. Cum with me. Yes, these are hard vibrations. You can hold it. If you don’t, I'll stable you standing tonight. You don’t want that. No... good filly. Ready? Now!”

She held her after, cuddling her. After a while, she took her bit out and kissed her slowly and carefully. “I know I whipped you hard today and once for the wrong reason. Sorry. I will try to make us a wonderful life. When I pass my tests as a trainer, we will live at the Farm, and that means I will stable you most of the time. I won’t breed you anytime soon. I want you for myself for some time. But we will start looking for some Stallions to breed you and impregnate me at the same time. I want us to have children together. You and me at the same time.”She whispered. “Is there anything you want? Just whisper, if we get caught, I have to cane you, and Mindy will take the crop to my arse.”

In the dim light of the stable, Melissa could just make out the very mischievous glimmer in her pony’s eyes. Melissa’s eyes widened, and before Andrea could say anything, she kissed her until she felt Andrea relaxed into it. “After you are branded, I promise you can whip me if you want.”

Andrea shook her head and whispered softly, “No, I don’t want that. Can you stay with me tonight?”

Melissa stroked her head. “Sorry, Gorgeous, I’m not allowed. I’m already pushing the limits by being here with you after lights out. After I brand you, you’ll be mine properly. Until then, we have to follow the rules.

Melissa sighed and cuddled Andrea closer. “I really would like to share my bed with you as my partner, or your straw as my pony. Wait. Here.”

Melissa took her yellow riding scarf from her pile of clothes and bound it into her hair so it held up her ponytail. “So something of mine is with you. But I have to take it off in the morning. We are not yet allowed to decorate our ponies. Now I really have to go.” And she kissed her again and then placed her bit back in her mouth. Andrea felt a bit better. It was something, and she liked getting kissed like that. Melissa stabled her with bridle and bit, harness but no lead attached, and arms clipped at breast level. It was much easier to get to sleep in that way.

The morning came, and the riders cleaned and readied their ponies for the day. Melissa removed the scarf from Andrea and hid it in the stall for the next night.

Clouds were coming in, and it looked like rain. Mindy took them to a large hall with an indoor arena.

“Today, we will work on dressage to get the basics across. I brought some help for today.” Mindy waved to a male rider entering with a caramel-skinned mare. The mare was beautiful. She was tall and slim, with long legs, very lovely tits, long hair, and a luscious tail in her own hair colour. She wore a harness and bridle that had been polished to perfection and had a large white feather on top of her bridle. Her hands were in hoof gloves, and she held them up on breast level. She also had some very nice golden nipple rings and a clit ring that were polished and shined. Each held small silver bells that jingled when she moved. Julia gasped; she knew that pony. She was one of the famous show ponies she had seen on TV. “Marrakesh and her rider Julian. Three-time winner of the National Pony Dressage Championship. She is a Farm pony... naturally.”

Mindy continued after the riders and ponies had settled, “They will show you how to do some fundamental dressage moves. Again, it’s the rider's command that you have to follow. Dressage is not only good for showing off your pony but also for furthering the communication between the rider and the pony. Naturally, there are also competitions where form, rhythm and communication are tested. Just to make that clear. In an championship competition, the pony is temporarily blinded and deafened with eye lenses and earplugs. The rider is visually prompted with the moves the pony must perform, timed to the music that the pony can’t hear. This requires very tight and effective communication between them. But today we will train the moves. Let’s get started.”

They started with how to hold their hands and arms, how to use their heads, and how to lift and move their legs correctly and gracefully.

Julia was naturally good at it, as she had trained for this from a young age, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. She still adored the show pony Marrakesh but knew she wanted to race and get dirty more than prancing around. Charles was not much into it either. She liked that. At one point, he whispered to her. “You just need to look good on the victory lap. That’s all I care for this. But you are getting rings. I like them.” She looked again at the nipple and clit rings of the Show pony. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea. They would only get in the way. She bumped him with her rump and then shook her head. “O…kay. It wouldn’t be before your branding anyway. But we can discuss that later.”

Maria had trouble coordinating her legs. She had never done anything remotely like that, and moving her legs and hands together was not easy. somehow. Penelope used a lot of crop on her to make her work through it, and soon Maria started to sob. “Pony tears won’t help you, Darling. You will learn, you won’t compete, but I want to show you off. Head high. Tits out. Leg up.”

Andrea was surprised that she actually liked dressage. She had legs for this. Lifting them, standing upright, moving her hands and her head, it worked for her. It was fun to show herself off like that.

Sure, in her old life, she would have been the laughingstock of the party, but here she wasn’t. Here, she could be just what everyone else was: a pony. For the first time, she felt like she truly fit in. She had been trained to fit in, and that made it easier; she had been taught the rules to be part of this world. In her old world, the rules had been difficult. Nobody had explained them, and they kept changing.

What made it even better was that Melissa was delighted with her performance. “Well, Gorgeous, you do okay in front of a sulky, but I really love looking at you in dressage. You're so beautiful. We should explore that.”

Maybe they should, but Melissa had to learn to communicate with her better. Mindy had seen it, too. “Melissa, you need to listen more to your pony. It's your responsibility to give clear commands. That goes for you too, Charles. You are just going through the motions. Keep that up, and I cane you for not training your pony correctly.”

George wasn’t happy. He would never be a show pony, nor did he want to be one. However, Henry had other ideas. “George, I swear, lift your legs properly, or I won't let you cum for a week. That’s better. Come on, you look really good. You don’t have to be a show pony, but you have to know how to walk properly. Think of it like a military march…THERE you go. Now that’s better.” That worked for George. Thinking of this like a soldier marching. He could get behind that. He had always thought being gay meant not being manly, but Henry showed him how wrong that was.

After the midday feed, Mindy made them prance around in circles and figures. “That is another part of dressage. Synchronised with other ponies.” Mindy explained.

They trained a sequence, but it quickly became apparent that Maria had zero talent for coordination. At one point, she just stopped and sobbed, let her head hang and whinnied softly. Andrea saw it, went to her, and pressed her body against Maria’s. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to use her arms to hug her, but she needed support.

Mindy came over to them, frowning. “Good lead mare. Let me check something. Maria, listen,” and she clapped a beat with her hand. “Now stomp to it.” She did, and it was all out of sync. “OK, now use your hands to clap with me.” And it was as offbeat.

Mindy tried again, slower this time. Maria watched her hands, desperate to get it right, but she still landed between the beats, with hooves or hands. Mindy even tried to make her sing, and it was even worse.

Mindy stopped. “Penelope, your pony has beat deafness. It's extremely rare, but it exists. She won’t be able to do proper dressage. It’s not her fault. She can’t do anything about it. Sorry, Maria. Really sorry.” And Mindy patted Maria, who just cried even more.

Penelope came to her. “Not every pony has to be able to do everything, darling. It’s not your fault. You tried your best.”

Andrea wanted to do something for Maria, but she didn’t know what. Mindy patted her. “You are a good lead mare. You will be a good addition to Melissa when she becomes a trainer. And you will be a wonderful dam to your foals.” It still bothered her a bit to think of her offspring as foals. She might not want them to become riders or ponies. But then, she hadn’t wanted to be a pony…she shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought she didn’t want to follow.

Melissa came over, as did the rest of the ponies and riders. The ponies pushed to be next to Maria, who was also petted by her rider.

Mindy addressed everyone. “A true pony relationship is not one-sided. If you want something one-sided, get a slave and find out how boring that will be after a while. Farm ponies and riders are special. Therefore, you need to listen when your pony talks to you. Because ponies have no words, you need to be more in sync with their body language and their noises. Ponies, you need to let your rider know if they do something wrong using your body and your noises. You are not a slave; you are a pony. Your rider should listen to you. That’s why dressage and driving are good training for both of you.”

Mindy grabbed George's bridle, pulled him down to her level, and dragged him forward. Henry shouted, “HEY! Stop that!” and grabbed for his pony. It made George really happy that he cared enough to stop Mindy.

Mindy stopped instantly. “Sorry, George. You did well. I just wanted to demonstrate something,” and patted him. “Now, what did you see?” she asked the riders.

“Oh! I see. I could feel him tense up, and his face and...I see what you mean.” Said Henry, while he petted George, making sure he was okay.

Mindy asked them to watch their ponies while they went through several dressage movements again. Maria could do the movements, just not with much coordination. Penelope didn’t force her, and it made her feel even worse. She had given up on her. She was a dud pony.

For the next exercise, Mindy had the riders jump their ponies over hurdles, starting small and working up to hip height.

She made the riders watch very closely and study their pony as it went over the hurdles. They should study their pony when it was afraid, or when it had less confidence or when it was confident. She also trained the ponies to be more explicit.

“Ponies, listen,” Mindy announced. “You may be scared. That’s why you need to signal that. The rider may still apply the required force to push you on. But you should let the rider know that you are scared or unsure. It is the rider's decision whether to listen to you or push you through. It is not the pony that decides. It’s the rider.”

Andrea was happy about all of that. She needed Melissa to understand her. She wanted to be heard, at least, even if Melissa decided to whip her through her fear. She wanted Melissa to know when she was afraid. She wanted to know she was cared for.

George was starting to feel differently about Henry. He could feel a bond forming between them, one that was two-sided, one that was deeper than just rider and pony, one that was built on feeling understood and valued. He had never felt understood before. Nobody ever wanted more from him than to be the next in line.

Julia had never thought she would need to tell her rider anything. She did not know much about slaves. She had seen them, but she had never really interacted with them.

Charles stopped her a few times when she simply did things, even when they scared her, like when he had her jump ever higher obstacles. She just trusted him to make the right judgement for her, but then she began to realise that he couldn’t do that without knowing when something scared her, or when she did not believe she could do it. Something she had to work at. Something that she had never thought she needed to train.

Maria was still extremely devastated that she was such a bad pony. Penelope deserved better than her. No wonder she was ashamed of being seen with her in the village. She did her best in the exercises and could feel Penelope listening to her, which felt good, but she was still a huge disappointment. She knew, because Penelope hadn’t used the crop on her to help her overcome her fear. She didn’t want her anymore.

Silvia wanted to go home and change her clothes before she went to work, but yesterday, with Donny and Gill didn’t let her go.

Donny and Gill liked her, and if she was honest, she liked them as well. It was just going too fast. She had had lovers before, never two at the same time, but she enjoyed it. Not only the sex, which was amazing, as she got to enjoy both sexes, but just being with them. How it had felt to just hold on to Gill, to feel Donny’s strong arms around her. Talking, talking like she had not done for a long time. She felt listened to.

But it was just so damn fast. They wanted more and... and what? How could she give more? The school friends, the vixen... Silvia felt she was setting herself up for another punch in the guts.

When she walked into her house, she stopped in her tracks and burst into laughter. Her confusion and anxiety were gone for now.

A brand-new box of Silly Loops sat on the table, untouched.

Her dad emerged from his room, looking smug and happy. She liked that.

“Hi, Silvia. What’s so funny? You seem to have had a good evening... with her?”

Silvia instinctively touched her neck. Had Gill left another lipstick mark? A quick glance at the mirror confirmed it—she definitely had... and hickeys. That woman! That must have been in the morning. Her pregnancy made her a bit horny.

“Yeah... her and her husband. But...” Silvia pointed to the box of Silly Loops, still laughing. “Helena must have been fun too, judging by the smile on your face.” She grinned wider. “...And that red face of yours! Oh, Dad, it’s fine. I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

“You don’t mind that it’s your boss?”

“No, I don’t,” Silvia said, shaking her head. “Do you mind what she does for a living?”

He paused, then shook his head as well.

“No, I don’t. I’m starting to make peace with it. It’s a job that has to be done, and I see that you both try to make it as easy as possible for these women.”

“That we do,” Silvia agreed, her voice softening and her anxiety slowly returning.

When Silvia arrived half an hour earlier than normal at the facility, Helena wasn’t there yet. She started on Jessica, butchering her body methodically. Melissa was late, and so was Helena. Jessica and Lisa would be straightforward, but Rose’s body looked bad. Lacerations, welts, bruises. It wasn’t nice to look at. She hoped she had found pleasure in her death. Silvia just couldn’t understand it. Eve’s young body was just... sad. Not much to get out of her. Too slim, most of her would end up as mince or Girl sausage. She concentrated on Jessica instead and left the rest until Helena and Melissa came.

Melissa came and took over Lisa. When Helena finally walked in an hour late, she surveyed Silvia’s work with a nod of approval. “Oh, great work, Silvia. Your cuts are looking good—you’re getting the hang of it.”

“Thanks, Helena. By the way, I saw the box on the table this morning, and the very satisfied smile on his face,” she teased.

Helena turned slightly red. “You can talk. You didn’t come home all night, and you have hickeys." She grinned and pointed mischievously at her neck.

Silvia grinned back at Helena. Then she turned more businesslike and pointed to Rose’s carcass. “What are we doing with that? On her family cut list are Tits, Cunt, and Ass, but... the Cunt looks like hell and the Tits...”

Helena surveyed the body, stroking the Tits and the Cunt. “Yeah, it’s not a good look. We have two options. Either we just give the cuts as they are, or we swap them with Lisa.” She paused. “What would you think we should do?”

Silvia thought about that. Give the family something that looked good, or give them their daughter? That was a really good question. She looked again at the Tits and the welts and bruises on them, the still red Cunt with its swollen lips. She wondered briefly what had caused that, but that wasn’t the point. She breathed in and thought as a butcher. The pieces were D grade, visually bad. She pinched the Tits for firmness, checked the nipple, checked her Cunt lips, her Cunt hole, her clit. In terms of meat quality, they were B and would cook as such. Her human side argued about the look they presented to the family. What it said about her last hours.

“I would take her parts. It was her choice, and if she were my daughter, I’d want her as she was—not how I wanted her to be,” she finally said.

Helena nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. The touch made her smile. “That’s good reasoning. We will do it like that. Now let me show you how to mitigate the damage a bit.”

After they were done and Rose was packaged up, her Tits and Cunt looked a bit better, and Silvia had learnt some new skills.

They worked the morning shift, which consisted of calm and collected women. Everything went smoothly, and every woman went in peace, with big orgasms. Around midday, when the team was gathered for lunch, Silvia finally voiced what had been on her mind all morning.

“When’s a good time to tell someone you’re a Girl Butcher?”

“Never,” Melissa answered flatly.

“Bullshit,” Helena countered. “Either as soon as you know you like that person and just hope for the best, or later... but later can be even more hurtful.” She shrugged. “That’s why I like your dad. He already knows, and he kind of understands.”

“You’re fucking Silvia’s dad?” Anne blurted out, earning simultaneous glares of pure annoyance from Helena and Silvia.

“What? Gossip! Give me the details! Is he any good? Would he be open to a throuple?”

A collective groan erupted from the rest of the girls.

“Anne! Seriously!” Ramona exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “I know you’ve been having a dry spell for a while, but that’s a bit much.”

“Alex, take her to one of your sex clubs and get her fucked until she’s sore,” Helena suggested with a smirk.

“Sure can,” Alexandra said with unusual determination and a wicked smile. “Anne, your weekend is blocked. You’re coming with me directly after work on Friday. Don’t pack anything—you won’t be needing clothes.”

Anne just stared at her.

“Oh, Anne,” Alex added smoothly, “that wasn’t a request. You’re coming—voluntarily or gagged in my trunk. Either works.”

She smiled like a shark and turned back to a blushing Anne. “Thinking about it, that would probably be more fun anyway.” Alexandra looked around at the others. “I think I’ll get plenty of help and support.”

“You bet,” Silvia chimed in, grinning.

Anne just gave them all a raspberry, but her face was red as a tomato. It had clearly turned her on.

“Speaking of the weekend, Hels,” Silvia began, switching to the casual nickname they used when talking as woman-to-woman—a habit Silvia loved. “I’ll be away this weekend. If everything works out, that is.” Silvia was still trying to decide if she should tell them.

Helena smiled. “Thanks for letting me know, but as much as I like the idea of a whole weekend with your Dad, I have to look after my twins.”

“Why don’t we do something together on Sunday?” Silvia suggested. “You, your twins, me, and my dad?”

Helena considered that for a moment. “Sure. Let’s do Sunday afternoon. I’ll ask him.”

Silvia smiled happily. Her father deserved some happiness, and she liked Helena.

Over the next days, Silvia volunteered to clean the slaughter rooms. She needed time to think, and cleaning helped.

She was still undecided about whether she should tell Donny and Gill. It was early, but she liked them. Should she risk it all and tell them now or see if this was anything more than occasional fun and tell them later? The incident with her school friends and the vixen still haunted her. How they had looked at her in disgust. How the vixen had howled after them, like a maniac. But Silvia couldn’t come to a decision.

Helena finally cornered her on Friday afternoon. “Fine, I give up. You obviously want my advice, right?” she asked, and Silvia just nodded. “First of all, if you are pondering this for more than two days straight, then you are invested in this relationship. Second, if your father didn’t know what I do for a living, I would tell him this weekend because it could become more than just sex. Ah, don’t blush. You suggested buying him a new box of Silly Loops.”

Silvia couldn't help it and smirked. Helena kept on talking, “In my experience, a quick end is better than a long-drawn-out one. In the end, it’s the same result.” Silvia wasn’t sure if Helena meant slaughter or relationships — but she understood, and maybe it was the same.

Yes, the end result was the same: either they would accept her or not.

“OK,” Silvia said and breathed through it. “OK. I will ask them. Helena, can I take some of Noel’s cuts from this morning? Her Tits and Cunt aren’t really sellable as they are.”

“Sure, do. I think that’s better than mining them. I think she would have approved. What a character. I think she would have loved to customise, but I don’t think she had the courage.”

“What makes you think that? I was wondering about Rose anyway. She must have suffered a lot. Still hard for me to forget how she looked.”

“Yeah, some stuff sticks with you. But no, I don’t think she suffered, not really, not like you think. You will need to spend some time with Alex later to understand.” She laughed. “Or talk to Anne on Monday.” There was a very mischievous smile creeping onto her face. “We should all just jump Anne and tie her up. I think she got off on that idea.“

Silvia grinned, and they went to talk to Ramona about it. In the end, Anne went, to everyone’s disappointment, willingly and even eagerly.

Silvia took some of Noel’s cuts. That Goth had so many piercings that her Tits and Cunt looked more like Swiss cheese than anything else. Optical D-grade, B meat quality. They were only sellable as D or would be minced, a waste of a brave woman. At least that way, her meat still mattered.

“You have fun with Dad. I... I might come home. But I will message beforehand. OK?” Silvia said to Helena as they changed back to street clothes. She really didn’t need to catch them in the middle of anything.

“He is taking me out for dinner,” Helena said, a bit excited, something Silvia hadn’t seen on her yet.

“Wow! That’s awesome. I wish you both the best.”

Helena stopped her, holding her hand. “I hope it works out for you,” Helena said, squeezing her hand. “But if it doesn’t... call me. I will come and get you, and you can have a cry in my arms.”

Silvia almost teared up at that.

“Stop getting all gooey on me,” the old, hard Helena said, and Silvia smiled. She liked Helena. She hoped her dad and Helena would become a thing. He deserved it, and Silvia deserved it too.

After fretting over her looks for way too long, Silvia finally made her way to Gill and Donny’s. The cooler bag in her hand felt heavier than it should. Her stomach twisted. She took a deep breath and rang the bell.

This time, Donny answered. His warm smile was disarming, and he leaned in to kiss her. But Silvia stepped back, holding up a hand.

“I need to talk to you both first,” she said, her voice tight. She hesitated, then slipped past him into their apartment.

Gill was in the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Silvia waited until Donny joined her before speaking.

"So... I really like you both," Silvia began, trying to steady her breathing. "But I need to tell you something. If you want me gone after that, I understand. Just... don’t yell. Tell me to go or just say nothing, and I’ll leave."

Gill’s warm smile faltered into a deep frown. Donny’s shoulders stiffened, arms crossing. Silvia set the cooler bag on the counter, her hands trembling slightly.

She had thought long and hard about how to do this, and finally, she had just settled on being direct and unapologetic. Just like a slaughter—the less waiting and fuss, the better. She was, however, pretty sure they would have the same reaction as the vixen, and she dreaded that already.

She opened the cooler bag and began laying the cuts out one by one: a pair of matching Tits, a Shank, a cut of Ass. Their eyes widened, and Gill gasped softly. Finally, Silvia placed a less-than-perfect Cunt on the table—the holes from removed piercings clearly visible.

“Did you rob a butcher shop? That must have cost a fortune,” Donny said, his tone filled with confusion.

Silvia took a deep breath, meeting their gazes as evenly as she could manage. “I’m a Girl Butcher.”

The silence was deafening.

Gill inhaled sharply, staring at the cuts on the table. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why?”

Silvia’s reply was steady but quiet. “I work at a private facility. We take a maximum of eight bookings a day. We care for the women, and we make sure they can go in peace.” She hesitated, her eyes flickering between them. “Women will be slaughtered—it’s the law. It won’t change. I do this to make it as painless and dignified as possible for them.”

Neither spoke. The tension in the air was almost unbearable. Silvia held on to the cooler bag, so her hands weren’t shaking visibly.

Finally, Silvia broke the silence, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

“No, wait,” Gill said, her voice trembling. She paused. “This is... don’t leave. Talk to us... please.”

Silvia’s head came up.

Donny looked at the pieces on the table. “Did you slaughter them?” His voice teetered between curiosity and slight fear.

“No. I butchered them, not slaughtered. I’m an apprentice; I’m not allowed to take lives.” Her answer came clear and steady. They didn’t shout like the vixen, that was a good sign.

Gill looked at her, and Silvia couldn’t even guess what she was thinking, so she just went for broke. Rip off the band-aid. It couldn’t get any worse. Helena had been right. Either it worked or it didn’t.

She took a deep breath and pointed to the Shank and Ass. “Joanne—a very nervous but pretty woman of twenty-four. The rest came from Noel. She was my age, cool as a cat. A Goth with lots of piercings. She even made some jokes.” Being a Goth, Noel had seemed oddly cool with the idea of being slaughtered. Thinking back, Silvia finally understood what Helena had meant about customisation—it made her wonder what Noel might have chosen, if she’d had the courage.

“You know their names?” asked Gill, astounded.

“Yes, I do. Their names, the way they came into the room, and the way they orgasmed as they died. I knew them for less than five minutes, but I remember them.”

“But still, you will kill women at some stage,” Gill stated.

“Yes, Gill, I will. When I’m accredited, when I pass my exams. Gill...” She paused, focusing on her. “You like Tit. How do you think that gets on your plate? That was a woman not more than three days before. You may have passed her in the street.”

Gill’s eyes widened, and she put her hand in front of her mouth. Like most people, she had never wanted to think about how Girl meat was produced. Donny moved protectively closer to his wife.

“Sorry, Gill, I really like you, and I don’t want to frighten you. But I don’t want to lie to you either. I would like to give this a try, and either you can accept me as I am, or not. Sorry. But I’m actually pretty afraid to tell you all this.”

“So why do you do it?” Donny asked, voice softer now. He wasn’t judging—he genuinely wanted to understand. “Why become a Girl Butcher?”

Silvia exhaled slowly. Some of the tension in her chest eased. “Because of what I experienced.”

She met their eyes, steady now. “My mum got her Letter two months before her twenty-sixth birthday. I was eight. She went to a Processing Centre.”

Gill gasped. “Gill, you saw the Processing Centre on a school outing, right? That’s nice and clean, but you haven’t seen them chewing through one hundred women. It’s pretty horrible. My mum had to line up and watch other women die in front of her before it was her turn.”

Gill went white, and Donny held her.

“My best friend got her Letter less than half a year ago, and she went to the facility where I work now. She wanted me to watch her slaughter.”

“Nooooo,” Gill exclaimed loudly, her eyes wide with shock.

Silvia nodded. “Yes, and that’s when I saw how it could be. She went with a smile, totally oblivious to the fact that she was bleeding out. She felt nothing but an orgasm. She had to die; you know that as well as I do. So at least she died with dignity and a smile.”

“That’s bullshit,” Donny said defensively. “How can you be so sure? How do you know they do not feel anything?”

Silvia pulled her blouse down and showed them the X scar. “Because I have experienced it,” she replied, a bit heated, and told them the whole story of her fake slaughter. Her belief it was real. The shock afterwards. By the end, she was tearing up. It still shocked her. But it felt good to talk about it with someone who was real and reacted. Not just the Nancy sticker.

Gill stepped closer and carefully traced the X on her shoulder. “That must have been horrible.”

Silvia reached out slowly, and Gill didn’t flinch much as she stroked her arm.

“It was a massive shock when I realised I was still alive. I had given in, I had let go, I had been prepared to die.” Donny came closer, too, and made contact, stroking her other arm. “And I had felt nothing from those cuts. They had to show me the blood. But what it did was make me understand how a woman who is about to get slaughtered feels. That’s why they did that to me. I had to understand.”

They stood for a while, Gill and Donny stroking her and Silvia stroking them back.

“How do you deal with slaugh... butchering women? It must be hard,” Gill asked.

Silvia let her head sink. “It is. Sometimes... harder than other times. Sometimes it breaks my heart. Like the other day.”

She thought of Lisa and Eve, and... Donny took her into his arms, and she just started to fall apart. She cried and held on to him as hard as she could. Silvia didn’t know where this came from, but she could just let go.

“Shh... baby... shh... just let it go. It’s okay,” Donny whispered into her ear.

Then she felt Gill’s arms around her too. “I’m sorry... I was just shocked...”

Silvia just let go a bit more; she hadn’t let go of everything for quite a while. After what felt like a waterfall of tears, she could breathe.

“I’m sorry... I cried all over you.” She tried to wipe the tears from his shirt. “Do you want me to go?” she asked timidly.

“No!” said Gill sharply. Then she softened and started fidgeting.

“Silvi... are you, as a Girl Butcher, exempt from the Lottery?” Gill asked carefully.

“No, nobody is,” Silvia said, startled. “The apprentice before me got her Letter, and that’s how I got an apprenticeship. I could get my Letter any day.”

Gill looked at Donny, and he nodded.

Gill took a deep breath. “There is something you need to know about us too... and... well... we work for the HPCC. Donny works for the department that sends the Letters. I... I work where they are printed. That’s how we met. So... well... it’s not going to be easy.... We could be the ones sending you your Letter. So that’s what we are afraid of.”

Donny took over. “We talked it through during the week and wanted to tell you this weekend.”

Silvia nodded. “I can deal with that. Can you deal with my job?”

“Baby...” Gill started. Silvia smiled—she was ‘baby’ now. She liked that. “But what if you get your Letter?”

“I’ve thought about that. I’ll live as much as I can, live large and bold, and then go to our facility and be slaughtered by my colleagues. I asked my father to be there. To watch. I want him to see me go with dignity.”

“Your colleagues and your father?” Donny asked, stunned.

Silvia explained the whole process. How her own knife would be used—how it would be the one to end her life before being destroyed.

“To be honest, that sounds fair to me. Your knife will kill, and it might kill you. It’s fair,” Donny said, leaning back against the counter. “I saw a Processing Centre too, while it was active... not easy for these women. It really needs to change, and I think that change is coming. I heard some rumours from higher up in the HPCC.”

Silvia hesitated, then asked, “So... can I stay? I’m sorry I shocked you, but if this is something real, I don’t want to start with lies.”

Donny exchanged a glance with Gill, who nodded. “We’ve talked about this. A lot, actually. We wanted to see how the weekend would go—and whether you could accept what we do for a living. But you’re serious about us too. You wouldn’t have brought this up otherwise.”

Gill started to pack the cuts into the fridge and Donny reached into his pocket and produced a key. “Would you like to see where we could go?”

Silvia stared at the key, her breath catching. Were they really asking her to be part of a throuple?

Gill giggled, breaking the tension. “Did we just shock you?”

“Yes... This feels fast.”

Donny set the key on the counter. “It is. But we’ve thought about it since the first night we met you. You are still in the Lottery, and we want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that makes sense...”

Silvia stared at the key, her heart pounding.

Her thoughts spiralled — doubts, fears, everything — but one clear message cut through the noise:

Shut... up! Silvi. Take it. They want you. You want them.

Without another word, she reached out and took the key.

Gill smiled warmly as she finished putting the cuts away. She walked back to Silvia, wrapping her in a hug. “We were very much hoping you would say yes.”

“You did?” Silvia asked, stunned, as she returned the hug.

“We did,” Donny confirmed with a playful grin.

Silvia chuckled, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Does my job freak you out?” Silvia whispered, her voice trembling.

Gill hesitated, then answered, “It does, baby. It does. But you’re right. Someone has to do it—and you’re trying to help women. That matters.”

Silvia’s throat tightened again as Donny joined the hug, wrapping his arms around them both. “We’re all part of this system,” he said softly. “We prepare the Letters, and you carry them out. It’s... fitting, in a way.”

“Donny!” Gill chided, her voice laced with affectionate annoyance. “Baby, you can still leave, you know. Otherwise, you’ll have to endure what he likes to call his ‘humour’.”

Silvia turned her head, so Donny could kiss her. She smiled. “I think I’ll stay and see if this can work.”

“Good.” Gill gently pulled her head around and kissed her too. “I want to see too.” And she broke away and took Silvia’s hand to guide her to the bedroom.

They spent the weekend mostly talking and figuring each other out. Sure, there was a lot of sex too—Gill’s pregnancy made her horny as hell, and Donny didn’t mind sharing the effort needed to keep her satisfied—but it wasn’t just that. They were trying to see if this thing could actually work.

On Saturday, they feasted on Noel’s Tits and Cunt. Donny grilled the Tits until they were crisp on the outside and creamy on the inside for lunch, and Gill made stuffed Cunt for dinner. They cooked much better than Silvia could. Especially the Cunt. Gill had filled it with finely chopped vegetables and steamed it. It had been fascinating watching her prepare the dish. Silvia had never had Cunt before, and now she was interested in how it tasted. She had cut that Cunt out of Noel, and eating it showed her how to cut better in the future. But she didn’t tell them any of that. What Silvia loved was that Gill used the holes in the Cunt lips to tie the filled Cunt closed with string.

By Sunday, Silvia decided it was time for them to meet her dad. It was fast, really fast, but Donny had been right. She could get her Letter. Until she was out of the Lottery, she had limited time.

The weekend had shown them that they were kind of serious, so... might as well. Gill and Donny were nervous, but it turned out fine. Silvia spent time with Helena’s twins, Donny and her dad hit it off like old friends, and Gill cornered Helena for a long, serious talk.

As Silvia joined Helena and Gill, Helena smirked. “Now I understand why you pondered this so much.” Helena turned back to Gill. “Silvia spent DAYS cleaning the slaughter rooms; that only happens if she wants to really ponder stuff.”

Gill looked astounded at Silvia. “Wait—you work together?”

Silvia nodded. “Yeah. She’s my boss and she’s dating my dad. Cringe.” But she winked at Helena.

“And she’s a Girl Butcher? A full-on one?” Gill asked, still astounded, looking at Helena.

“Yep. But I left my horns and pitchfork at home,” Helena commented, amused but slightly defensive.

Gill rolled her eyes. “Not what I mean. My baby is a Girl Butcher too, and I still like her. But...” She looked like she was working up to something. “What if one of your twins gets their Letter?”

Helena smirked and waved Pamela over. “Pam, come here. Gill wants to ask you something.”

Pamela wandered over, casual as anything. “What’s up?”

Gill hesitated, then asked, “What happens if you get your Letter?”

Pamela shrugged, as if it were the easiest question in the world. “I hope I don’t. But if I do? Mum will slaughter me. I’m not letting some Plant butcher take me apart. And I want my sister there to watch. We made Mum promise she’ll be our butcher. Then they’ll eat the best parts of me. No way these end up in a supermarket. They stay in the family.”

She shook her growing boobs proudly.

Gill blinked. “You’re not scared?”

“Not really,” Pamela said flatly. “I mean... look. I could have an accident tomorrow. Or get sick. Or whatever. People die. The cull rates are currently around three percent and dropping. Sure, the chance of a car accident or cancer is lower, but if you add everything up—not just death, but disability too—it’s kind of the same. Shit will always happen. So what’s the point? I can’t change any of it.”

Gill’s voice dropped. “Helena… would you really do it? I mean, slaughter your own daughter?”

Helena nodded, her voice steady but heavy. “Yes. It wouldn’t be easy. I’d cry myself to sleep for months. But I promised them. I’d make sure it was done with love and care. They wouldn’t suffer. They wouldn’t be afraid.”

Gill rested her hand on her stomach. “I hope it’s a boy.”

Pamela gave her a small smile. “That would make it easier. But if it isn’t, teach her early. And if she gets her Letter, bring her to Mum, or Silvia. They will make sure it’s done with dignity and love. I will feel safe and loved with my Mum. I would not be afraid. If I get my Letter, I have to die. Better that way than ending up... yeah, nah, not even thinking about it.”

Gill stared at them, at a total loss for words.

“Hey, honey. Don’t fret, it will be all good. The cull rates are way down. Didn’t you hear that they even closed a Centre in the east?” Silvia put an arm around her.

“I’m just happy I’m out of the Lottery... but... baby, you are not. I don’t want to lose you.” Gill put one hand on Silvia’s arm and kept the other over her stomach.

“I don’t want to lose her either. Seriously, one more apprentice gone and I will write a very stern letter to the HPCC.” Helena’s voice was filled with mock outrage. Silvia only rolled her eyes.

Gill’s eyes were glistening. “I just want you to live, baby. Please.”

Later, Silvia stood with her dad and Donny.

“So,” she said, trying to keep it light, “I’m going to be staying with them more. We’re, uh, seeing where this goes.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow, but his grin gave him away. “I’m happy for you, Silvi. I hope it works out.”

“I hope so too,” Donny said, squeezing her shoulders.

“Helena might stay over more often too,” her dad added carefully.

Silvia smirked. “Good. I like her for you.”

He sighed dramatically. “She eats all my Silly Loops.”

Silvia laughed. “She’s doing you a favour. Someone has to watch your sugar intake.”

Later that day, the twins cornered Silvia in the kitchen.

“So,” one twin started.

“Our mum and your dad,” the other finished.

“We like it,” they said together.

“Me too,” Silvia said, trying not to laugh. “Helena’s good for him.”

“And your dad’s good for her,” one added. She still had issues telling them apart, and they didn’t help with that. “She hasn’t smiled like this since Dad’s accident.” Silvia thought that one was Penelope.

“Yeah. He must be good in bed,” the other said with a grin.

Silvia groaned. “Seriously? Please. Stop. I don’t want to think about that.”

They laughed, unapologetic.

“Anyway,” one said, grinning, “since you’re going to be our big sister now, you owe us some answers.”

“Big sister?” Silvia asked, caught off guard.

“Yes. Big sister. Spill the secrets,” the left one said, Pamela for sure. Or?”

“What secrets?” Silvia asked, still a bit confused, and not being able to put names to the twins didn’t help either.

“Stuff Mum won’t tell us!” the right one answered. They did that on purpose, she was sure.

“Like... is fucking a guy better than a girl? You do both, so you should know,” the other one added.

“Does size matter?”

“Pussy. Shaved or not shaved? How do you keep yours?”

Silvia blinked at them, completely thrown, then burst out laughing. So she took the twins to her room and set them down, and they talked about all the things the twins thought they wanted to know, and Silvia told them the things they actually should know. It was kind of nice to have them.

​

“Amen” I said, holding back the pain as my father gave me the last hit of the blessed Adjuster directly onto my cunt. My legs stayed open now. I could finally receive the full mercy of the Lord.

I sank off the table onto my knees and kissed my father’s feet. He handed me the Adjuster, and with a devoted kiss on it, I hung it back up.

Church had become easier too. I had grown used to my cunt being split apart by the seat and the Lord’s jolts. I even looked forward to screaming out my devotion to him.

But what was even better was that Samson had talked to me more. Father allowed him to talk to me after each RestDay service, and he always had his hands between my legs, stroking my hurting cunt. It felt so good.

Women were not allowed to touch themselves. It was a sin for a woman to experience the Lord’s Light without a man bringing her there. My mother had talked to me about it, had told me how not to step over that last hurdle and experience the Light. Only a husband was allowed to give that. It was good my mother had told me how to control myself, but after the RestDay Devotion my cunt hurt so much that Samson’s hand was just soothing. I liked that he was doing this, and I knew he liked it too. His dick stood up, proud and strong.

Maybe he would someday take my cunt in marriage. Come out of church wearing his fluid proudly on my face. Maybe even be whipped by him as he lead the service. But those were all silly dreams of a sinful cunt like me. Dreams I had to trust the Lord to bestow on me.

Me and my mother sat down to breakfast next; it would be a slow day today. There was not much to do on the farm today. It was raining cats and dogs. The Lord blessed us with the rain the fields needed.

After we had eaten and I had cleaned up the kitchen, Father took Mother to their room and he showed her the Light. I sat in the kitchen listening to them, imagining what this would be like. I wasn’t a stupid or ignorant girl. I knew what sex was. We had animals. A dick goes into a cunt until the white fluid fills the cunt and the Lord decides if this will become another human.

I wondered how it would feel to have a dick in my cunt. I wasn’t allowed to touch my cunt, so I didn’t know.

I had touched my cunt... no, then I was still a girl and it was a pussy. I had touched my pussy a few times, but my mother had used chilli powder on my hands, and that had taught me to keep my hands off.

Samson’s dick looked good. Other young men that had talked to me were well-built too, but he had ‘accidentally’ touched my stomach with his, and a little drop of his white fluid had been left there. I had been a sinful cunt and had licked it off my finger. But that was what Morning Penance was for: to purge me of my sins.

There was a loud knock at the door, and I went and got it.

It was Samson and his parents. I almost smiled but was able to stop myself.

“My parents are praying to the Lord in their room. Come in, I will serve you.” I said, and bowed as any good young cunt should.

My parents came out of their room, my father closing his trousers. He went and shook hands with Samson’s father, and they sat down at the table. We women stood next to our head of the household.

“My son wants to take your daughter’s cunt in marriage.” I had to bite my lip, hard. My heart skipped a beat, and I could have grinned and smiled. I could glimps a proud smile form Samson.

“Good. Let’s see.”

“Yes. Let’s see.”

Samson stepped forward, and my mother fell on her knees in front of him. She opened Samson’s trousers and freed his dick. Then she folded her hands behind her back in the correct prayer position, like any devoted woman would do.

“May the Lord be merciful to this cunt.” She said, as every good cunt should before taking a man’s dick into her mouth. Mother sucked on his dick, and he enjoyed it. I was so envious. I wanted to suck him.

Mother pushed his dick down her throat like she had shown me and trained me on a wooden stick until I could do it properly.

After just a minute, Samson grunted, and my mother took him as deep as she could. After Samson had twitched a lot and groaned, my mother sat back on her heels. She was clearly tasting his fluid, swishing it around in her mouth. Then she looked up at Father. “Good seed.”

He nodded back, relieved. She swallowed, and then he backhanded her hard. “Thank you for correcting this sinful cunt. Amen.” Her cheek was red from his hand.

“Good. Delilah. Take off your dress. On the table. Lie on the table.”

“Yes, Father.” I said, and hurried to follow his command. My dress was off fast; it was a woman’s dress and held up by only one clasp. Naked, I lay on the table and spread my legs wide apart.

Samson’s mother came forward. She grabbed my boob and squeezed it hard. Then she pulled on my nipple. It took all my stamina not to yelp out.

She repeated that with my other boob. “Good milk.”

Then her head disappeared between my legs, and I almost flinched when I felt her mouth on my cunt, her tongue entering me. Then her mouth sucked on my clit, and I clenched my teeth together not to moan like my mother did. It would have been unthinkable. “Good fertile cunt.”

“Has she seen the light?” Samson’s father asked my father.

“Never. We are a devoted household.” He replied heatedly.

“How devoted is she?”

“Very. I’ll show you.” Father undid his belt and smacked it with full force between my legs. My teeth ground against each other; I clenched my stomach and arse muscles, forcing myself to leave my legs open. They had only twitched a bit.

“Thanks, Father, for showing this cunt your love.” I said as neutrally as I could, trying to hold back tears of pain.

Father smacked me again hard, and I cried out. “Thanks, Father.”

Samson’s father touched my cunt, and a finger slipped between my folds, where it was all wet.

He held up the finger and sniffed. “Good. Let’s deal.”

“Delilah, off the table, on your knees.”

I came off the table and onto my knees next to my mother. Samson’s mother knelt opposite us. She nodded to my mother, and my mother nodded back.

Father and Samson’s father started talking.

“Samson will have the farm. He will care for you in your old days.” Samson’s father said.

“Agreed. I will give you two cows and a steer as compensation for taking my worthless daughter into his household.”

“Agreed. His children will inherit.”

“Agreed. They marry before winter.”

“Agreed.” And they shook hands. I was engaged! My mother took my hand and squeezed it. It was so hard not to explode with happiness. I glanced up from under my bowed head at Samson, and he caught it and gave me a wink. He loved me, and he would seed my worthless cunt so we could give the Lord more devoted people.

“Delilah. Go and thank your fiancé.” Father said, smiling at me.

On my knees, I crawled over to Samson. I put my arms behind me in the prayer position and opened my mouth.

He laid his flaccid dick in my mouth, and I looked up into his eyes. I could taste him on my tongue—his sweat, his maleness, his fluid—and I saw his smile and his want for me.

Slowly his dick rose and became stiff. Everyone exploded in shouts of “Bless the Lord.”

The Lord had accepted our marriage.

I allowed myself one little transgression, one I would ask my father to whip my cunt extra hard for tomorrow morning.

I sucked on his dick. Once. Feeling his strong shaft, taking him, feeling him twitch. Feeling the dick of my future husband.

The household celebrated, and I even held hands with Samson under the table.

The morning metal banging sounded through the stable, and for the first time, they heard the same voices that had said good night to them the night before. It was a good feeling for all the ponies.

Mindy was happy. None of the ponies had fled, escaped their stalls, or done anything except be ponies. They had dropped manure in their stalls and awaited their riders as they had for the last month. Giving them their arms and eyes back had been a litmus test to see if their pony identity had taken. And it had; they remained ponies, behaving as they should. Their riders would, from now on, determine how they would be stabled. Even if the ponies didn’t realise it, there were lots of these small tests built into this phase. If the ponies failed them, it was up to their riders what would happen. Most of the time, it was a severe punishment or reduction of freedom and retesting. Seldom did it happen that a pony was put back into phase one, but it had happened in the past.

Andrea was happy that she had been claimed. She was safe. Melissa had said that she fought for her, which meant she really wanted to be with her. She was happy to have a partner who truly wanted her. She had never felt like her parents wanted her. The rest she would get used to. She was Melissa’s pony, and that was all that mattered right now.

She shook her head, amused. She truly had become a pony, and she was okay with it. Things were so much easier. There were rules, there was sex, and there was punishment if she did wrong. Everything was easier to understand and follow.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Melissa said as she entered her stall, smiling. “I decided you will get a full Brazilian; I wanna see how that looks on you.“ She took her tail and her harness off the hook. “So, let’s get you to the mounting chair and fix you before breakfast. Hop, hop, pony.” She took Andrea’s bridle and guided her out. Andrea folded her arms behind her back as she followed. So much easier.

George was ready for today. He would perform better. Henry deserved his best performance. He needed to show him that he cared. They had not fucked last night. Henry had just held him after he had masturbated him, and George had liked to be in his strong embrace until he fell asleep. But Henry had to leave him alone in his straw. They weren’t allowed to stay together yet.

“Right, big fellow. Before we get you ready, I want to work off my morning wood. Turn around and give me your pony arse. That’s a good boy.” Henry made short work of pushing his dick into his arse, and after a short, hard fuck, he came inside him. ““That’s much better. Good colt,” he said, relaxed. “Stay. I’ll put your tail in. That way, my cum stays in you all day, and you know who you belong to.”

Maria waited patiently for her rider. She liked Penelope. She liked that she cared, that she wanted her and that she wanted her with all her baggage.

As her stall door opened and Penelope stepped in, Maria smiled.

“Good morning, my beautiful pony,” Penelope said, and she could hear how proud she was. “Your sister and your father have been moved into my house. I love your sister. She is so cute, and you can see her as soon as you have finished your training. I told them that you are doing very well and that I will be your wife. Your father is immensely proud of you.” She became a bit frustrated when she put Maria into her harness, but Maria could sense it wasn’t because of her. “He insists on working in the house. I don’t know what to do. We have servants and slaves who do all the work.” She took her bit out. “Speak. Please. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

“Good morning, Pen. Let him do the garden, if you have one. Or something like that. He is a very proud man. He needs to feel like he is doing something to earn his stay. Thank you for taking them in.” Penelope nodded and then put her bit back in and kissed her on the head. “Good pony.” And Maria pushed her head against her and sighed. She had found the right rider.

Julia smiled as Charles entered her stall and took her tail off the hook. She felt mischievous after yesterday, so she tried to escape him as he tried to put her tail into her. She tried not really hard, she just wanted him to catch her. He did, and he gave her some hard smacks on her butt. It felt good to be owned, especially after the good arse fuck he had given her last night.

“You are a crazy pony.” He laughed as he cleaned and readied her. She neighed in agreement. She wanted to be a crazy pony with him.

They were fed and watered. It felt strange not to be fondled while eating after they had got used to it for a long time. Some of the ponies looked a bit questioning at their riders. But they were ponies; it wasn’t their decision.

No additional dildo belt was attached either, just their tail. However, blinkers were attached to their bridles. As they were led from their stalls, they passed through new parts of the Farm and encountered other riders with their ponies.

Andrea liked seeing other ponies and their riders. It made her feel that she belonged to something special. Melissa guided her along, asking. “Any Stallion you like? I don’t mind. I like one occasionally too.” She pulled sharply on Andrea’s lead. “But you can’t have a mare or a female rider. You belong to me. I get really jealous.”

Somehow, that was nice to hear. Andrea had never had anyone who wanted her exclusively.

George's shoulders were way back, and he walked as tall as he could. There were many mares he liked. He wasn’t sure if Henry would allow him any mares or female riders. It didn’t matter. He liked how Henry took control of him and took what he wanted. Normally, he would have been confused about why he was proud to have Henry’s cum in his arse, held in by his tail butt plug, but he had stopped worrying about what should and shouldn’t be right. He concentrated on what felt good. It felt good to be with Henry, and that was that. It felt good to be tightly controlled.

Julia was prancing around a bit. Skipping and swaying her hips so her tail swished around. She enjoyed the tail she had earned, and she enjoyed having a rider who liked a crazy pony like her. Choosing Charles had been the last step in letting go of all the show-pony stuff. She could be herself, a self she hadn’t known existed. Her dam was a show pony, even a famous one, and she had been brought up to become one too. But she wanted to be made dirty, sweaty, and show off what she could do. Pulling that plough had made her strong. She liked being strong. She liked being able to take a whipping and not sob. To feel the stripes on her arse or back for a day or two.

“You are very happy today. I hope I’m the reason.” Charles mentioned as he guided her by her lead. She nodded and whinnied. She hoped she was allowed to play with the other ponies at some stage. Run around, play ball. She would like that. She had seen that as a young foal, but had not been allowed to join, so she wouldn’t get dirty. Charles didn’t mind and maybe even liked it.

Maria walked next to her Pen. She wondered what she would be taught next. She liked learning new things and pleasing her rider. Maria wasn’t sure if she was in love with Pen, she wasn’t even fully sure what that meant outside the few movies she and her sister had managed to sneak into. Pen had chosen her, and she had chosen Pen. Last night she had licked Pen’s pussy, and it had been nice to be able to make her cum. She liked it a lot when Pen’s hands pressed her face deeper between her legs. That showed she was doing it right, and Pen liked it a lot. Pen had made Maria cum with a little portable vibrator while kissing her. Maria felt so good with Pen. Save and wanted.

Maria also liked to see other ponies and their riders. She had never seen anything like it. She had only heard of it, but now she was in their midst and part of it. The girl from the slums had started to disappear in training. It felt good to be just another pony among all the other riders and ponies around them.

Five sulkies were lined up in a large arena that was littered with obstacles. A country path next to it led off into the fields beyond. As soon as Julia saw the sulkies, she pulled on her lead, wanting to get in front of one. “Crazy, calm down. Yes, you get to pull one. Now settle down. You need to learn that properly.”

Fine. She stayed but swayed her hips, making her tail flare and swish. She liked the feeling when it brushed against her legs. Andrea looked at that for a moment, amused, and then tried it too. It was a bit fun to have a tail and play with it.

“Hmm, that seriously works for me, gorgeous,” Melissa said, touching her butt affectionately.

“What about learning something useful instead of how to get your pussy wet?” Mindy asked sternly, who came to meet them, guiding a huge muscly stallion, black as night, with a sheath that made everyone stop and stare, and it wasn’t even stiff yet. Mindy was dwarfed by the stallion, but he stayed calm beside her with a neutral expression.

“So, I know that some of you never had sulky training.” She looked at Melissa and shook her head. Andrea’s rider turned a bit red. Andrea was not sure she liked hearing that Melissa had no training in this.

“So this is for some riders but mainly for your ponies. Let me show you how to get a pony in the sulky. There are several sulky types. “This,” she said, patting the one next to her, “is the easiest. The pony is hip-harnessed, holds the poles with their hands, and pulls. Basically, it’s a kind of rickshaw. That’s the one we will use today. Then there is the hip-and-shoulder harness, where the pony’s hands are bound to their body. Last but not least, the dildo harness one, hip harnessed, and the pole has a dildo that is inserted into the pony. But today, we start with the easy one: getting everyone used to driving and pulling.”

She guided her huge stallion to the first sulky and placed him between the two poles. “Bheki. Stay,” she commanded, then unfastened his arms from behind him, clipped the sulky into his harness, and attached his hands to the poles.

“Would you like him?” Melissa asked. Andrea looked at her rider with alarm. She had been trained with huge dildos, and that thing was probably as large as one of them. It hadn’t been pleasant; she had cum, but it had always felt as if she were being split open. If he pushed hard into her, she was afraid she would be skewered. “Mindy lent him to me once. I was sore for a week. But worth it.”

Andrea stomped and shook her head. She didn’t really like that. Not the idea of this stallion covering her, nor if she was honest, him fucking Melissa. “Calm down. Mindy doesn't lend her stallion out. She is very territorial with her husband.”

Julia watched what that massive stallion was doing and how he moved when Mindy sat down in the sulky and steered him. She could do that; that would be fun. She swished her tail. She didn’t get tired of doing that.

“That one is fine for learning, but I want you in the dildo harness as soon as possible.” Julia would want that, too; that sounded more fun. She had become a very perverted pony indeed, and she liked it. Letting go of becoming a show pony had truly set her free.

George was intimidated by that stallion. He seldom met people who were taller than him, and Bheki was at least another head taller. The muscles looked like proper endurance rather than just strength. He needed to change that anyway. Get from the body-building muscles to something more endurance and fit. But he would have to ask his rider what he wanted.

Henry put him in the sulky harness and attached long reins to his bit.

“I’m not really into that, but we should learn it anyway. You look better in front of a plough. Much more manly.”

Maria was eager to try this. The stallion was impressive, but she only had eyes for her rider. Who seemed a bit hesitant. What was wrong? Didn’t she want her to pull her?

Maria tugged at her lead towards a sulky, indicating she wanted to do that with her. “Oh my Gods, I haven’t done that for a long time. Darling, are you strong enough to pull me? Yes? OK, but I won't hold back on the whip if you can’t.” And Pen harnessed her in. Maria could see that she knew what she was doing. Why had she hesitated? Because she did not want to whip her? What kind of rider wouldn't whip her pony if it didn’t perform?

Mindy started them off with the basic movements: forward, stop, left and right. Once everyone had got it, she let them loose on the obstacle course.

For the ponies, it was an extension of their blind training and the parcours. They were to pull, not to think. The rider steered them. They needed to concentrate on pulling correctly, using the same force on both hands and the harness. It wasn’t that easy, especially getting the sulky moving initially. They had to lean into the first steps.

“Andrea! For fuck’s sake, keep straight!” Melissa shouted angrily as they almost collided with an obstacle. She snapped the driving whip hard across Andrea’s arse, leaving a red mark.

Andrea shook her head. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Melissa constantly pulled her bit to the right. Again, she was whipped, and she had had enough. She stopped, shook her head, stomped her hooves hard, neighed and blew angrily.

“Hey! What’s got into you?” Melissa asked, irritated.

Mindy pulled up next to her. “Pony is right. You are doing it wrong. The way you’re holding the reins keeps pulling her to the right.”

Andrea could not see what was behind her, but she could hear. She stomped loudly and shook her body, so the movement translated into the sulky. Underlining what Mindy had said.

“Fuck a duck. Oh, I see. Sorry Gorgeous. I need to listen to you better. Right, let’s try that again. Shake your head if I’m still doing it wrong.” And Andrea whinnied and swished her tail. Yes, that was better.

Maria was guided expertly. She had learned from the parcours and followed Pen’s even slightest directions. It had been challenging initially, but she settled into giving all the control she had left to her rider.

“You are a good pony. This is fun. Giddy up, darling. Faster!” And Maria pulled harder.

Julia learned fast; his whip on her arse helped, making her obey Charles better. He was a good driver. In no time, they were cruising around the obstacles. She just needed to let go.

George could feel that Henry wasn’t fully into this. He was a bit listless, but still steered him well. He did not find it as satisfying as the plough, but it was better than the carousel. It felt a bit too prancy. Maybe if this was a real coach, something heavy, but that flimsy sulky?

“Right. Change drivers. Henry with Julia, Charles with George, Andrea with Penelope, Maria with Melissa.”

George instantly noticed the difference. Charles had a totally different way of steering him, and he didn’t hold back with the driving whip, either.

“Hey, stop whipping my pony so hard!” Henry shouted at Charles, annoyed.

“Then train him better! Do you need to use the whip with my pony? No, you don’t.”

Julia heard that and decided to become difficult, so he had to use the whip. “Now see what you’ve done!” Henry complained as he took the driving whip to Julia's arse.

Maria was okay with Melissa driving her, but every time she saw Pen driving Andrea, she wasn’t happy. Was she jealous? Maybe. Probably. Yes, she was. She wanted Pen to drive her.

Andrea could feel the difference, too. Penelope knew what she was doing even if she hesitated a bit more than Melissa. Her rider needed to learn, and Andrea would ask Melissa to practise the next time she was allowed to speak.

They changed again until everyone had a chance to drive each pony. That trained not only the ponies to handle different input, but also the riders to read each pony’s reactions.

They took their midday break and watered and fed their ponies.

“Do you like it? I think I do,” Melissa said as she watered Andrea and brushed her down a bit. Andrea stomped. ”Yes, I know. I promise I will learn it better. You are such a cute pony when you are angry with me. Sorry that I have whipped you for the wrong reason.” Andrea pushed her head against her rider and was cuddled properly. She was not sure she wanted to be whipped for the right reason, either.

Penelope was feeding Maria carrots, knowing Maria liked them. “I feel old. You are such a pretty young pony, and I’m such an old woman. Sometimes, I feel it was wrong to have laid a claim…“ She didn’t get further as Maria stomped and shook her head. No, she had chosen her. Pen was maybe fifteen years older than she was, so what did that matter? She liked her a lot, actually. Penelope petted her. “OK, I will try to get over this.”

Henry wiped the dust off George's face with a wet cloth. “Yeah, I think we can both agree that the plough or fieldwork is more fun. Hey… we could fell some trees, and you could pull them out of the woods! What do you think?” George liked the idea that he was not just pulling someone around but doing some proper work that counted, like ploughing. He almost laughed out loud but caught himself in the last second. He had never worked in his life before.

Charles was leading his pony off to the side for a good fuck he needed. “As soon as I brand you, we will start with race training. I think you have the legs for it. You will be fast. We will try for the Farm Cup in autumn. Julia liked the idea of running fast and pulling him. The Farm Cup — that sounded like something she would like to win.

Charles satisfied himself slowly and with pleasure in Julia while everyone watched. Penelope had one hand between her pony’s legs and one between her own. “Make sure you come when I come, not before and not later. You can do that. I know you can,” she said as they watched.

“Hey, Henry, do you mind me borrowing George? Andrea deserves a treat, and I don’t think Mindy will lend me Bhek again.” Melissa asked.

“No, she won’t. He is MY stallion and MY husband. That was a one-off birthday present. Or do you want that filly?” Mindy looked up at her stallion, and he shook his head. “Do you want any of the other fillies or that colt? No? See, he doesn’t want anyone but me.” He neighed, and she petted him affectionately.

Henry took George over to Andrea. “George is good enough. He has been such a good colt. A nicely wet vulva will be a nice treat for him, too.”

So Melissa made her Andrea bend forward. Henry inserted George’s dick into her and let him cover the filly. However, having a tail presented a new challenge, but Melissa just held it out of the way while the colt pumped hard into the filly. Andrea neighed, whinnied and tossed her hair as she was fucked properly, enjoying it.

“I like watching you getting covered. You make such nice noises, especially when you toss your hair.” Said Melissa as she played with her pony’s nipples. Andrea was totally lost in the feeling of getting fucked, hard, fast and with force. She liked it, especially because there had been no choice. Her rider wanted it, and that was that.

“Me too. I especially like the play of his arse-cheek muscles when he pushes in.” Henry looked over to the others and then exclaimed. “By the Gods, Mindy. Seriously? Where does that go inside of you?”

Bheki’s dick had become hard, and it was enormous. Mindy looked at it and began stroking it.

“All the way to where it needs to go. But I like to fuck my pony in private. Thank you very much. When everyone is quite finished, let’s go for a drive.”

Andrea came. She had always been able to come from being fucked, but after the constant use during training, her body had learned to enjoy it more easily. George came loudly inside her, pushing them both forward with the sheer force of his thrusts. Melissa held her bridle and pinched her nipples. She loved that her rider enjoyed herself and that she got a proper fuck. She could live with that.

Julia was satisfied that her rider had cum in her, even though she hadn’t. It didn’t matter. She was just happy that he had and that she could feel his cum later dripping out of her. She had changed so much, and she liked the pony she had become. The crazy, filthy one.

Maria watched Pen intensely and then came when she came. It wasn’t easy, but she had been trained to hold it, and so she did. It was so lovely to do that together. “After I brand and marry you, I will have the protection removed, and we will find you a stallion that will give us some lovely foals.” Maria put her head against her rider and was petted. She would like that.

“Well done, George. Good performance. You are getting better. Right, let’s get you back into that sulky. Maybe a long drive is more fun.”

So they set off down the path that wound its way through the low hills. The ponies struggled when they came to a hill. The riders put their whips to the backs and arses of their ponies to push them on. It was hard on the ponies. The plough had made them strong, but still, this was hard; they grunted through it the best they could. When they crested the hill, their backs and arses were red and sore from the whip. Maria and Andrea were sobbing. Julia was hurting but wasn’t sobbing; she was pretty proud of that. George hadn’t struggled as much. Slow and steady had worked for him. That was a good workout for him.

Then they came to a village. The ponies did not know it, but everyone living there worked for the Farm and was used to ponies. Again, this was a little test to see how they would react and cement their pony identity.

Andrea slowed down, unsure and a bit spooked. She hadn’t seen ‘normal’ people for a long time. Melissa flicked the whip across her arse, and Andrea caught herself. There were people everywhere. Some stared at her and the other ponies.

Andrea was still nervous. It was the first time others saw her as a pony—saw the whip marks on her naked body, pulling a sulky, and wearing a bridle with a bit in her mouth, marking her as a pony, not a person.

The blinkers only allowed her to see what was in front of her, and that helped. But what helped most was that Melissa wasn’t anxious or bothered at all. Her steady guidance and words made Andrea relax back into her pony attitude and just pull her rider through the village. She would have to learn to let go of the idea of what other people thought of her. It didn’t matter anymore. She was only a pony now, nothing more.

Julia started lifting her legs high and showing off to the people. She had never been concerned with people. She was a pony, and that was that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t show off how good a pony she was. Charles chuckled and let her have her way. She really was a crazy pony, and he liked it.

Maria was a bit nervous. Not because of the people who saw her, but because she had grown up fearful of people she didn’t know. But Pen held her reins secure and firm, urging her on. She had to trust her rider to keep her safe. However, somehow, she could sense her rider was nervous too. She wondered why.

George had no issues, and neither did Henry, being seen by people. He was happier as a pony than he had ever been as the son of a lord. Currently, he was pulling his rider and husband-to-be more or less naked through a village. What did it really matter anyway?

They concluded the drive and came back to the Farm. The ponies were tired and exhausted after that long drive.

“Whoa! Bheki. Good boy. Let’s get the ponies out into the pool to cool down and relax their muscles and let them rest until evening feed.”

The riders took their ponies to a different part of the Farm with a large pool and several hot tubs. Other people were there too, swimming and relaxing. Most of them were naked, some ponies with bridles, some without, but all of the ponies were clearly marked by a branding on their left butt cheek, a relatively big, visible one. They were stallions and mares. Unbranded ponies were fillies and colts, and the four of them were currently the only ones there.

The riders handed the ponies to stable hands, who brushed them down and cleaned them properly. They washed the dirt from the road off their bodies and out of their hair and tails. They hadn’t been handled by the stable hands in a long time, but it was nice that they were cared for while their riders showered and cleaned themselves.

After being cleaned, they took charge of their ponies again and guided them into one of the hot tubs. Each tub had room for at least eight people. Some were already occupied by riders and ponies enjoying the heat.

The riders greeted each other, and the ponies whinnied to the other ponies. The riders massaged their ponies’ legs, and the ponies relaxed in the hot water and enjoyed the attention.

“She looks fast. Are you going to race her?” a rider asked Charles, who was massaging the knots out of Julia’s legs. “Absolutely. She will leave your nag in her dust.” He said, smiling, taunting them both.

Julia eyed the other mare. Julia herself was still a filly, unbranded. The mare looked strong; she would have to work hard. She wanted to be a race pony. That drive today had made it clear she needed more training. She wanted to win for herself as much as for her rider.

“Let’s make a bet. A crate of champagne,” said the other rider.

“Deal. But not the cheap shit you tried to offload last time.”

“Sure. Sure.”

The other mare eyed Julia, and there was a glimmer in her eyes. She would have to train. During the next partner time, Julia would ask Charles to train her harder.

Andrea really liked being taken care of by Melissa. She enjoyed what Melissa did, and that Melissa did it with love. Her arse and back were burning from the constant whipping she had endured today. She didn’t like being whipped, but that was the point of it, wasn’t it? If she liked it, they would never have made it over the hill or through the village. Still, it was hard for Andrea on days like these. Melissa cared for her, but she also liked to hurt her and make her cry. She knew that it turned her on. Would she ever get used to it? She was sure it would never change.

Andrea leaned back in the hot water, flinching as the hot water came in contact with some of the welts on her back. “You've been a very good pony today. You will get a special treat tonight.” That’s something she liked, being made to cum. It would make her forget.

Penelope massaged Maria’s legs. “They are all cramped up. Can’t have that on my darling pony.”

“How did YOU score that young filly? Money? Isn’t she way too young for you? You are way too old.” the woman in their tub commented, acid in her voice. Without seeing a bridle or a branding, it was impossible to tell if she was a rider or a pony. It didn’t matter. Maria pulled her legs out of Pen’s hands and stood up, lowering her head and then blew out threatening, stepping closer to the woman who had insulted her rider.

“Woah Maria. She isn’t worth it. That’s the rider who endangered you. Not sure why she is still here.” The look of disdain was clearly visible on Pen. “Probably money. Can’t be sex with that face.” She pulled Maria back on her bridle and out of reach. Then Pen spoke as loud as she could without shouting. “Listen, Clara. You could have killed or badly injured my pony with your incompetence. I will not let you come close to my pony ever again. You are not a fit rider to be around ponies. Now fuck off, or I will make sure your sorry arse is never again allowed to enter the Farm again. I have way more pull on the Directorate than you.”

The woman looked around; everyone had heard that. Until now, it had not been common knowledge, but in less than an hour, everyone would know how she had failed. She went red, got out of the pool, and walked away as slowly as possible, trying to salvage some pride, but the stares of the riders and ponies followed her.

Pen turned back to Maria. “Sit. Left leg,” Pen commanded and continued massaging the knots out of her pony’s leg. Maria relaxed back into the water. “You are mine. You chose me as much as I chose you. Other leg.”

George had heard that too and watched Henry, who massaged his legs with his strong hands. He wanted to ask him about his parents and the mess he had created, but he would have to wait until the next partner time. Henry looked at him and stopped. “I know what you are thinking. Whatever happens, you belong to me now, and I protect what belongs to me. Fiercely. I’m not sure whether you have been disinherited, but you are still the oldest son, so by law you will inherit the title and its responsibilities. You will have to choose if you want it or not. I will support your decision.” And then continued massaging George’s aching muscles. George relaxed; he trusted Henry, and he would look after him. Everything else, they would figure out. Together.

One of Silvia’s biggest milestones was finally being allowed to do the gutting. The last body on each shift was hers to gut, slow and carefully. She was thrilled, though her hands trembled as she made the first incision, trying to remember all the lessons Helena had pushed into her. Cutting open a body was not something hard anymore.

But like with everything else she learned, over time, Silvia got used to it, her hands knew what they had to do. Silva slipped more and more into her new butcher mode, where she saw the living body and the dead body separate. Slowly, she started to feel like a real butcher—contributing, helping women, making good cuts of Girl meat and taking her place among the team.

She had become comfortable with gutting women, knowing how and what to cut. Making sure everything they could use from a woman was harvested, and nothing was wasted.

Silvia had just opened the abdomen of the dead woman hanging in front of her, with slow and steady cuts as she had learnt, and was about to pull out the intestines, when she stopped, frozen in shock.... What the fuck! No! No!

She stepped back in shock, her stomach heaving at what she saw in front of her. Turning, she ran, pressing the hidden wall switch to open the emergency exit without setting off the alarm, and bolted for the toilet. She was in a blind panic. She just... fuck! She vomited into the sink instead.

Silvia tried to regain control, but that picture would not leave her mind. She vomited until she was dry-heaving, sliding down onto the floor, shaking.

Helena came in. “How are you doing?”

“Was... was that a baby?” Silvia asked, her voice shaking.

“A foetus. I had to make sure it was dead. No suffering.” The tone was almost accusatory.

Silvia stared at her in horror. She had been right; it had been a baby, and it had moved.

Helena sank into a squat next to her. “The foetus was not older than three months. No chance of survival. It was best for it.”

“I saw it moving... it was still...” Silvia dry-heaved again, not caring if it was on the floor, but nothing came out. She sat back, exhausted.

“Yes, I saw it. It was already dying. I understand how upsetting this is, seeing it for the first time... but there was nothing we could do except make it follow its mother as quickly as possible. If it had been three months older... maybe. Then I would have called emergency services. I didn’t see it when she walked in, and her chart didn’t show it. I don’t think she knew herself. It happens.” Her tone softened.

“I’m sorry your first time seeing this was such a shock. Normally, we know—or we should know these things. But you’ve read the laws. Pregnant or not, slaughter is slaughter. Too many women tried staying constantly pregnant to avoid the Lottery, and all they did was drive up the cull rates. More had to die because of it. The laws are strict for a reason.”

Silvia nodded weakly. She had read the laws. Emergency C-sections after six months, with the mother slaughtered directly after. Just like Nancy’s birth mother.

“What... what do we do now?” Silvia asked, shaken.

“You clean yourself up. Get back in there and finish what you started,” Helena said matter-of-factly.

“Helena... I... I can’t.” Silvia shook her head. How could she go back and...

Helena stood up. “Then give me your knife and join a slaughter line—or run away,” Helena said, her tone sharp, holding out her hand. “This is the job you signed up for. You either do it fully, or you don’t do it at all.”

Silvia looked down at her knife. To stop being a Girl Butcher now would condemn more women to stand in those awful lines.

“Get up! Get into clean clothes, finish your job!” Helena commanded, her voice hard. Silvia hated this, hated her. But she clenched her teeth and struggled to her feet, stripped out of her soiled clothes and into fresh ones Helena handed her. Neither of them spoke. Silvia was angry at Helena for being so fucking cold, making her go back.

They returned to the slaughter room. Silvia clenched her teeth even more, looking at the corpse. With trembling hands, she pulled her knife from its sheath, breathed through it, steeled her centre, and looked at the woman’s torso.

There was a very small human-looking foetus in there. It looked just like a very, very small baby. It didn’t move any more. Silvia fought for control of her stomach. Helena stepped around and pointed at the foetus.

“Look here. This is where you cut. It was already dying. When the mother’s heart stopped, the blood stopped carrying oxygen. This cut speeds it up. It would just fall asleep.”

Silvia forced herself to look. To make sure she knew. It was hard, but she forced herself to do it. She hated Helena for making her study the cut closely.

“Finish it,” Helena commanded, her voice still strong and even.

Silvia nodded. She swallowed hard and began cutting the baby out of the mother’s body.

“Into the gut bucket. It will go into the incinerator. OK. Now concentrate back on the rest. Just take everything out. We won’t be harvesting any of her internals—everything goes into the incinerator. We just don’t.”

Silvia was relieved they didn’t. Carefully, she cut out the internals and placed them into the gut bucket.

“Now take her head off, and then we’ll directly process the carcass.”

While she fell back into the familiar task of gutting, reality came back to her. Fuck!

“Shit! Our second woman must be waiting already way too long!”

“Alexandra’s doing her right now. Concentrate on what you’re doing. I want you to finish her fully. Everything,” Helena instructed.

Silvia looked at her. She had never fully finished a body end to end.

“Questions?” Helena asked in the same even tone.

“No, ma’am,” Silvia answered, her voice tight and angry. How could Helena be so cold? Unfeelingly driving her to do all this. But Silvia kept it together as much as she could.

Helena had her behead the woman and move the carcass into the butcher room, where Silvia fed the head, the baby, and all the internals into the incinerator chute. It felt horrible, every fibre of her body screaming that it was wrong. But the baby was dead, the mother was dead. What else was there to do?

Helena then made Silvia cut her first Tits and Cunt. Silvia should have been excited, but she wasn’t; she just did as she was told. Both cuts were harder than Silvia had thought. She had watched Helena do these cuts a hundred times, but now she realised just how difficult it was to make them good.

Alexandra and Melissa joined them soon with two carcasses and silently worked away. Under Helena’s strict commands, Silvia finished the whole carcass off, until it was neatly packed and stacked, ready for the market.

She put down her knife, trembling—not just from the work but the sheer emotional weight of it. She had butchered a pregnant woman, had disposed of the unborn baby, cut her up and packed her for resale. Silvia felt terrible.

Helena said softly, “The first one is the hardest. Sorry, but that's the only way to get through this.”

Silvia just stared at her, hating her right now even more, making her do that, wanting to be angry at someone. Helena met her stare. “Now you can fall apart, Silvia. Now, when the work is done.” And she touched Silvia’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me. Just don’t. Leave me alone,” Silvia shouted angrily back at her. How could Helena be so fucking cold?

Helena just stepped forward and hugged her, held her. Silvia struggled against her pull.

“Leave me alone. You’re cold. You don’t care!”

But Helena didn’t let go, didn’t say anything, just held her tight. Then Silvia felt another body hug her, and then another. She was surrounded by all of them.

Silvia shouted and struggled angrily against their hugs, their warmth, and their love. She wanted to hate them. Wanted to... Then, finally, her tears came, and her angry shell cracked. Silvia sobbed and wailed, while they held her and supported her.

“This is so unfair,” Silvia sobbed, holding on to the others.

Helena just held her, stroking her head. “It is. I’m sorry it’s that way. Just let go. We are here for you now.”

And Silvia did. She buried her head against Helena’s chest, holding on to her like her life depended on it. Helena didn’t let go, stroking her hair and whispering softly.

Silvia had never cried like that before—never been held like that before. Maybe when she was little. A lifetime of hurt streamed out of her.

Helena just held her.

“Silvi, I’ll clean the rooms. You just go home,” Melissa murmured, stroking her hair. “My first one almost killed me. It was just viable—about six months—but we couldn’t save it. It died too fast.”

Alexandra came over, running a gentle hand down Silvia’s back. “I checked with Anne and Ramona. Looks like the mother didn’t even know she was pregnant. It’s rare, but it happens. Normally, we’d know. I’m sorry, Silvi.”

Silvia barely reacted. The words just existed in the air around her. Her mind was locked on what she had seen, on what she had done.

Helena’s voice softened. “I’m taking you home, okay?”

Silvia nodded weakly. Barely responding.

The drive home was quiet. Silvia hadn’t even realised Helena knew where she lived. She just stared out the window, watching the world pass in a blur. Everything felt unreal.

When they arrived, Helena took Silvia’s keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Her father wasn’t home yet.

“Where’s your room?”

“Upstairs,” Silvia mumbled.

Helena guided her up, helped her change into pyjamas, and tucked her into bed. Silvia moved like a ghost, barely aware of what was happening.

Helena was about to leave when Silvia grabbed her hand, blinking up at her, her throat tight. “Please don’t go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m—”

“Shhh… it’s all good,” Helena murmured, brushing Silvia’s damp hair from her face. “This was hard. Really hard. I’m sorry you had to go through it like that. It shouldn’t have happened this way.”

Silvia swallowed. The images were burned into her mind. The baby. The knife. The way it had moved.

Helena sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But when we pick up our knives, we can’t put them down halfway.”

Silvia nodded slowly, the words sinking in. Silvia understood. You don’t stop just because it’s hard. She had a duty to these women. They trusted her to do the right thing.

Helena exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Do you have alcohol in the house?”

Silvia told her, and a minute later, Helena returned with a bottle and two glasses. She poured them both a drink, handed one to Silvia.

“Drink.”

Silvia took a sip. It burned, but the warmth spread through her chest, grounding her as she leaned back.

“You did a good job today,” Helena said. “For your first full carcass, you did well. Drink.”

They drank.

Helena stared at the glass in her hands, her fingers tight around it. “I’m sorry I pushed you through it,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “It affected me too. It always does.” She turned away, wiping her face. “I had to take two lives today. I wasn’t ready for that either.” Her voice wavered. “It always hurts.”

Silvia watched, eyes widening. She always had thought Helena was almost made of adamant.

Helena turned back, tears clinging to her lashes. “We’re women. It affects us.” She wiped her face again, shaking her head. “But there was nothing else that could be done. Nothing. I haven’t taught you everything yet. But I will now.”

Silvia sat up, hesitated—then pulled Helena into a hug.

This time, Helena cried in her arms. It felt strange, but it also felt good.

For a long time, they just sat there, holding on to each other.

Then Helena pulled back slightly, clearing her throat. “Drink.”

And they did. They finished the bottle, sitting side by side on the bed. Slowly, Silvia drifted off to sleep.

Silvia woke with a start. She had overslept. The sun was high, and her mobile told her it was past 09:00.

“Shit,” she muttered, bolting out of bed and rushing downstairs.

“Dad, why didn’t—Ah... hi, Helena?!”

Helena was in the kitchen, casually making breakfast. She wore nothing but a long shirt that was unmistakably her father’s.

Silvia froze, staring with her mouth slightly open.

Helena turned, clearly amused. “Oh, relax. I slept on the couch. He just lent me something fresh to wear.”

Silvia glanced around, half-expecting her father to appear.

“He left for work early. Sit. Breakfast.”

“But—”

“I. Said. Sit.” Helena’s sharp tone left no room for argument, but her expression softened as she added, “Please.”

Silvia sighed, sitting at the table. Her eyes immediately landed on her butcher’s knife lying in plain sight.

The unspoken question loomed over her: would she take it? Could she take it again?

The image of the baby…the foetus flashed in her mind—its tiny movements. Her stomach tightened. But then she thought of the women waiting in line, trembling. She didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if that woman had gone to a Processing Centre. The mother had died not knowing she was pregnant. Had died with an orgasm. Helena had given her peace. That was the only thing they could do, give these women peace.

Taking a deep breath, Silvia reached for the knife and slid it into her belt. “Shouldn’t we be at work, prepping?”

Helena shook her head. “Melissa, Alexandra, Anne and Ramona—they came in early and are prepping. We’ll go straight to the first slaughters.”

“I should...” Silvia began, but Helena cut her off.

“...do what I tell you, apprentice. And right now, I’m telling you to eat breakfast. That’s that.” Helena pointed to a cereal box on the counter. “Oh, I found your Silly Loops. Can I have some? I love them, and they would work after yesterday.”

Silvia smirked despite herself. “That’s Dad’s secret stash. He thinks I don’t know about it. He really shouldn’t have that much sugar.”

Helena grabbed the box and poured a generous amount into a bowl, adding milk. “Nope. Sugar’s terrible for him. I’ll make sure to tell him when I see him again,” she said, grinning as she started shovelling cereal into her mouth. There was something shy but cheerful about her that she hadn’t seen before.

Then it clicked, and Silvia smiled faintly. Why not? “Hels, would you like to buy my dad a new box and bring it to him? He could use one.” It was the first time Silvia had used Helena’s after-work nickname.

Helena paused mid-bite, studying Silvia. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Silvia held her gaze for a moment, hearing the unspoken question behind the words.

Silvia smiled and nodded. “He hasn’t had a date for... ever, I think. It would be good for him.”

Helena nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’ll get him a new box. But don’t get any ideas that this means you’re getting special treatment.”

“I don’t want special treatment.” Silvia’s tone shifted, growing more serious. “But what I do want is for you to show me where I can read up on everything—the laws, the regulations, what we’re supposed to do, and what we actually do. I need to understand it all.”

Helena studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded. “You’re learning. Now eat. You will need it. You’re doing a full carcass again. We’ve got nine bookings today—Ramona messed up.”

Silvia sighed but nodded. “It’s okay. One more saved from the queue.”

Over the next few days, Silvia seriously looked into the issues with pregnancy and slaughter. She read and reread the laws and the regulations. Then she talked to Alexandra and Helena about it. She understood how the laws worked and what they tried to do, but she also understood what she needed to do as a Girl Butcher. As much as she didn’t ever want to do this again, she knew she would have to.

The next hard and shocking day came just weeks later. They were waiting for their client, but only Anne came back.

[See also Book 2 - Private Slaughter - Chapter Lisa and Eve]

“Mother with young, scared daughter. Mother is volunteering to be with her. Can you take both? The daughter asked.”

“Not sure. We haven’t set up for it. Doubles are hard. The one waiting can flip out,” Helena mused. “I’ll come and talk with them.”

Helena went, and after a while, came back with Anne, an older woman and her daughter, who must be Eve, who was on her list. A double? Silvia wondered how that would work. The daughter must have been just of slaughterable age, probably her first year in the Lottery. How unlucky. Silvia had never slaughtered such a young woman before.

Her mind was running off, thinking what a waste it was; this body didn’t have much meat, no Tits to speak of and no fat anywhere. Her heart was just sad for her being so young and probably even a virgin, having never experienced anything yet. She looked shy and frightened, holding on to her mother.

They checked them in, and the mother seemed determined to help her daughter go in peace. Silvia was seriously impressed by Lisa’s determination. Lisa was giving up her own life only to make sure her daughter was able to go more easily.

Silvia blinked. Her own mother had gone, gone for her, gone so she might not need to go. Silvia had never considered this before. It affected her a lot, but she had to hold it together for now; she had to be here for them now.

Silvia understood as well as Lisa that her daughter had to die, and there was nothing that could be done about it but make it easier for her.

Helena told her to hand the vibrator to Lisa, and she put it on her daughter’s clit and made her cum. Silvia wasn’t so sure what she should do, but she would follow Helena’s directions. Helena knew best. Silvia wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to make such decisions.

When the daughter was dead, the mother lost it. Lisa just wanted to die now. But Silvia knew they had to gut and behead the daughter first, and move her into cold storage, before they could take care of Lisa. Regulations said so.

Helena snapped at her; had her get another spreader bar directly into the slaughter room. That was highly against regulations, but she did not question her boss. In no time, they had the mother hanging upside down, and Silvia took the vibrator to her pussy. The mother let go fast, and then it was all over.

It had been pretty emotional, for all of them. Silvia could tell by now that there were huge chinks in Helena’s armour. Silvia felt heartbroken too. A true mother, giving everything for her daughter.

Helena kept herself together by giving her some pretty important background on double slaughters and their immediate dangers. That had been a bit shocking for her, but she understood how a mother, a sister or a lover could flip out and start fighting.

What was also shocking was Helena’s offer to take her drinking. She had never done that before. Alexandra and the front office girls, Anne and Ramona, as well as sometimes Melissa, went from time to time, but Helena always went home.

Helena had come closer to her over the last few months, especially after the pregnancy scare, and Silvia finally found the courage to ask her what she had wanted to ask for a long time.

If she got her Letter, would Helena be her butcher? It was a very personal request for Silvia. She liked Helena a lot. She knew she would never be her ersatz mother, but she would like to have a strong female figure in her life.

She agreed, and that made Silvia very happy.

“Helena, before I cut out her Cunt. Anything I need to know? According to her sheet, she was a virgin.”

Helena had just cut the mother’s Cunt out and held it up to look at her cut. She must be happy with it; it looked really good. Just the right dimensions and form.

After putting it away, she turned to Silvia and looked at the carcass. “Normally with younger women, you go deeper and more to the sides... Hmm, let me have a look.”

Helena studied Eve’s Cunt, feeling her lips, her entrance. Then she put her hand into the carcass's open belly, feeling the rest of her reproductive organs from the inside. Commenting constantly on what she was doing and what she was looking for. “Well, there isn’t that much, really. OK, go deeper and take the cervix too. It will be a very limited virgin premium cut. There is a market for that, but I personally detest that. But Girl meat is Girl meat. Just means another woman won’t face the line. It’s numbers, not weight.”

Silvia cut slowly and methodically, and after a moment, she held the virgin Cunt in her hand. Helena nodded. They finished the gutting and removed the heads. “OK, they are done for now. Let's put them on ice. We need to go and see how Alex is doing. She has a customised slaughter today, and I know for a fact that it will be hard on her. Come.”

As they walked over to Slaughter Room 3, Silvia was still chewing on what Helena had said about the mother and why she had flouted regulations. Would she be able to actually do this at some stage? Would she be able to be a good butcher and prioritise her clients? She hoped so. But on days like these, the goal of being like Helena seemed ever further away.

Alexandra was in a bad state. Silvia could only stare as a naked Alexandra ran crying directly into Helena’s arms. Silvia had never seen a slaughter done in the nude. It was against regulations... but Alexandra would know better than her what she was doing, and Helena didn’t seem surprised. There was so much more to learn, everything that was between the lines of the law. But what astounded Silvia the most was Alexandra crying. She had never seen her that emotional before.

The body on the St. Andrew’s Cross was in very bad shape. Her head was all red, her whole body showed angry welts all over, her Tits were a mess, and her Cunt was just an angry red piece of meat.

Melissa was already gutting her. While Helena held Alexandra, she was to assist Melissa.

“So what happened?” Silvia asked Melissa, holding the gut container.

“Strangulation and whipping. We had her for, like, almost two hours until she was finally too exhausted to go on. She died happily and with a big orgasm.”

“Isn’t that cruel?” Silvia asked. “To make her suffer.”

Melissa shook her head while she released the leather strap around her throat that held the woman to the cross and had killed her. As she did, there was air coming out of the body as if she was breathing out. For a heartbeat, Silvia stiffened.

“No, that’s normal; she is gone. That’s just the air left in her lungs. No, not cruel. She wanted to go that way, and Alex is amazing at doing this kind of stuff. She died happy. How did you go? Anne said there had been issues on your side.”

“Yes, mother and young daughter together.”

Melissa stopped what she was doing and looked Silvia over. “You OK? Young women can be very hard.”

“It was. But the mother helped us. She made her cum herself.”

“Unrestrained?” Melissa asked sharply, wide-eyed. Silvia just nodded. She looked over to Helena, who was still holding a sobbing Alexandra. “They will need a lot of drinks. Come, let’s finish her up and put her on ice. Helena is right. We will finish her tomorrow. It’s been harder than usual today.”

They cleaned themselves up and went to one of their usual haunts. Everyone was in a mood, one way or the other. Silvia was still pondering how she would be able to handle the responsibilities this job really brought. Alexandra had stopped crying but felt... detached. Helena was somehow not herself either. Silvia wasn’t sure if Helena was shaken more by Lisa and Eve, or by Alexandra—but something in her was cracked. Even Melissa felt different; she was even more withdrawn than usual.

The owner of the bar knew what they did for a living, but she understood they were the good ones.

As soon as they sat down, a round of shots appeared without needing to be ordered. “Live large and bold,” Helena said, and they all toasted.

Alex was still downcast. Mel explained, “Customisations mean she has to make love to the client through pain. They want the pain and to scream. But it takes a lot out of her. I’m not sure I could do it. I don’t have a very dominant streak.”

Alex chimed in, naturally, “No, you don’t. But that’s okay.” Her gaze landed on Silvia.

Helena put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “No, not yet. You can train her later. She’s my assistant right now.”

“Protective? Since when?” Alex asked and then smirked. “Oh... I see now. So that’s why Lisa’s...” but she didn’t get any further.

Helena snapped at her. “Shut up, Alex. Drink and shut up.”

Helena pushed another shot to her. Silvia’s eyebrows went up. Helena rarely snapped like that.

“Seriously. Just... don’t. Let’s get you drunk and then we’ll get you laid,” Helena added. “I will be fine, it’s you who needs to lick your wounds. I know you. Tomorrow, you’ll be better. Come in late. Silvia and I’ll do the prep.”

“Yes, definitely, Alex. I’m happy to do it,” Silvia agreed. Her burning question was: how would they get Alex laid?

Alex solved that her own way. She looked around the room, then stood up and sauntered over to a woman sitting alone. A younger one, younger than Silvia. In less than two minutes, that woman was putty in Alexandra’s hands.

Everyone turned back to their drinks. “How?” Silvia asked the group.

“Beats me,” Melissa said, shaking her head slowly.

“I wish I could do that. I would love to get laid tonight,” Helena sighed. “I really need to feel alive.... Lisa...” she shook her head and there was deep hurt in her eyes. “Such a mother. Such dedication. Such...”

Melissa put a hand on her shoulder, and Silvia could see how affected Helena was. There must be more to this than Silvia felt comfortable asking. But yes... Lisa had cut deep into Silvia too. Her own mother had sacrificed herself so that Silvia might have a future, and Lisa... she sacrificed herself so her daughter could go more peacefully.

But Silvia understood Helena; she wanted to feel alive too. Right now, she felt... emotional whiplash. It had been hard. The foetus, Eve, but mostly Lisa.

Helena looked over to Alex, who had somehow removed the girl’s bra and put it on the table, while her hands were all over her and they kissed.

“If I were into women, it probably would be easier, but...” Helena commented dryly. “I tried... it just doesn’t do it for me.”

They had more shots, and slowly everyone relaxed. Silvia still felt... empty. She wanted to be held, wanted to have someone take care of her. Forget.

That made her think of that couple from a few months ago. Maybe they’d be in the mood to just make love. Fucking would be OK, but she really craved to be made love to. Slow and sensual. She knew where they lived...

Helena’s hand fell on her arm. “Whatever you’re thinking, Silvi, do it! Live large and bold!”

Silvia smirked. “I’m not sure they would be in the mood or...”

“Silvi. I like you, but you’re overthinking! Just... do it. What’s the worst that can happen?"

Silvia nodded; she was right. She should find out. The worst would be either fucking or going home alone.

About an hour later, Silvia probably committed a crime: driving while drunk, but then what were AI-supported cars for? She didn’t really care. She had enough alcohol-induced courage to do what the girls had said she should.

She rang the doorbell. The hot blonde opened the door, her face splitting into a smile as she welcomed Silvia in.

She closed the door behind Silvia and slowly pressed Silvia against the wall. Silvia’s breathing quickened. “Took you long enough,” the blonde purred, leaning in to kiss her carefully, judging her reaction. Silvia melted under her touch.

“Hey, honey, who was it?” Silvia heard a male voice from further inside the apartment.

The blonde grabbed her hand and pulled her along. The older guy was cooking, and even that looked good on him.

“Donny, look what I found!” He turned around—and smiled wide when he saw her. Silvia felt very relieved, but bit her lip, not sure how to handle this. As much as Silvia felt good, she felt the hole inside of her that had been left by her mum, by Nancy, by her friends. Now that she was here, she didn’t know if this had been a good decision. She felt something for these two. Something new, something she hadn’t felt before, and it scared her a bit.

Donny looked at her. “You all right? You look like you had a hard day. Darling, get... ahh...” Donny stopped.

“Silvia,” Silvia added, smirking.

“Right—Donny, Gill,” he said, pointing at each of them. “Get Silvia settled. I’ll have dinner ready soon.”

“Come, Silvia... I like that name,” Gill said, pulling her towards a couch. “If you want, you can tell me all about your day...” Silvia stopped. She could not tell them. The Vixen’s screeching echoed in her ears. Gill noticed. “...or you don’t, and you just cuddle into me. I would like that too.”

“I... I’m sorry. I just don’t know. I like cuddling. I feel a bit lost right now.”

“Then I’m glad you let us find you,” Donny called from the kitchen.

Gill pulled her closer into her arms. “I’m happy you came back. We’ve been going to that bar every Friday since we met you. But you never showed up again.”

Those words made Silvia lean into Gill, between her breasts. She felt so warm. Just a moment later, she felt Donny on her other side, enveloping her and Gill into his arms. “I’m happy you’re back too.“

They stayed like this for a time, and Silvia started to recover. There were no questions, no demands, just them. It was exactly what she needed and wanted.

They ate dinner, and that was good; she needed that after the amount of alcohol she had drunk, and it tasted amazing.

Donny and Gill were married, and Gill had celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday the day they had first met, celebrating that she was out of the Lottery. Donny was in his mid-thirties.

They spent the evening and night together, making love slowly but purposefully. It wasn’t about fucking like the first time they had been together but... more.

“Say, Silvi...” Gill asked over breakfast. “Do you want to come back? Maybe even spend the weekend?” she said, turning.

“Am I not in the way... I mean you’re married and...” Silvia started.

“...and pregnant. No, you are not. Why do you think we went searching for you? We kind of like you.”

Silvia grinned. “Congratulations, Gill. That’s amazing. But...”

Gill swatted playfully at her arm. “No buts. What buts are there?”

Donny chimed in, “I would like that too. She’s really growing on me. She kind of harmonises us.”

Gill tilted her head, looking at her husband and then at Silvia. There was a sparkle in her eyes.

Silvia wasn’t sure. This was a bit fast for her. “Uhhh... can we go slow on this? I mean, you don’t even know me.”

“True... you could be a mass murderer,” Donny joked.

Silvia forced a smile. Not so far off the mark. Over the last months, she had... she had lost count. There had been so many. She remembered some more than others, but they all started to blur together. It wasn’t that she didn’t give her best for each and every one, but as soon as their carcasses were neatly packed up, she tended to forget them. Some she never would, like Margaret, Kirin, and certainly not Lisa and her courage.

They exchanged phone numbers and arranged for Silvia to come over Friday for a weekend together.

As Silvia left, Donny asked, “You eat Girl meat, right? We were thinking of getting Tits and Ass. Cunt is way too expensive. But we wanted to celebrate Gill getting pregnant, and now that you are here, it would be a real celebration...”

Silvia smirked. “I’ll bring some.”

“You’re sure? That’s expensive,” Donny asked carefully.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

All the ponies had been brought back to their stalls to be treated for their injuries from the last obstacle. Mindy was happy. Like most herds, this one had worked out, apart from that small accident with Maria in phase two.

Yes, the last obstacles were dangerous, and over the decades, accidents had happened, but in the whole history of the Farm, only two had been deadly, and five had caused permanent damage. The last one she knew about had been before she had started her training as a rider when she was sixteen.

During her time, only one serious injury occurred due to material fatigue in the log. A pony had slipped and burned his calf. But he had recovered and had become a good stallion.

What made her happy was that all of the ponies had claims on them; multiple riders wanted them. She had hoped for that, and Andrea’s result in the parcours had been a great surprise. Andrea had been her worry pony this time, but she had turned it around.

Some pairings had been decided on. Melissa had fought tooth and nail for her Andrea, and if the rumours were true—and the scratches on the other rider's face suggested they were—she had done so quite literally. She had fallen hard.

George had been claimed by Henry. There had been no other claims, as most people knew who he had been and didn’t want to get tangled up in that mess by marrying him.

Julia and Maria were still under consideration. Multiple riders had put in claims for them, but nothing had been decided yet.

“I’m very proud of you, ponies. You have earned your tails. Andrea, I’m really proud of your performance. You did not even blink. Julia, a very good performance too. Nice legs. Maria, you were scared, but you trusted in the end. George, that was a bit listless but fearless, so well done.” She paused.

“Riders, whenever you are ready, please give your ponies their earned tails,” Mindy announced loudly, patted all the ponies, and handed out treats.

Melissa got excited again. “Come, turn around. Let me attach your tail. You have earned it.”

Andrea turned around. She had accepted the fact she was a pony now and had made peace with it some time ago. It was better than whatever had happened before in her life. She had been aimless. Now she had an aim: to be claimed, to be a good pony, not end up on a dirty chain and to trust her rider.

Melissa spat in her hand and used it as a bit of lubrication to open her up and insert her tail plug into her arsehole. After wearing a dildo belt for weeks, she was used to it and understood now why this had been done. She was a pony, and a pony needed a tail. She was proud that she had earned one. After hearing the results of the other ponies, she scored the highest, and that was something that made her proud. She had achieved something, and people noticed and celebrated it.

Melissa attached the tail to her harness and said excitedly, “Turn. Let me see. Wow, nice. You are such a beautiful pony. But I will buy you one in your hair colour. That will be much nicer. Don’t you think?” Andrea looked down at herself as much as she could. Yes, it would be, but this one would always be her favourite.

Julia was proud, smiling from ear to ear and excited. Her rider had attached her tail, and it felt awesome. She had always envied her mother’s long, silken tail. Now, she had her own. It was not silk, but she had earned it. She had worked hard for it. Sweated for it.

Thinking about her parents, she felt again the pain of having been misled, left with some stupid fantasies instead of what she would have needed to know. She was disappointed in them.

Henry inserted the tail and fastened it to George's harness, securing it in his arsehole. After wearing a dildo in his arse for Gods know how long, it had felt strange not having anything in there.

“You did well. I’m happy you passed, but if you ever do such half-arsed shit again, I will make you regret it. We will run that parcours again until you do much better. Understood?” That was fair. He had not taken this stuff seriously until the end, when he understood what this was about. He did feel a bit ashamed of his performance. He didn’t want to know what would have happened to him if he hadn’t passed. George nodded and stomped.

”Good. Now listen. I claimed you. Nobody else wanted you. But I do. I really do want you. You fascinate me.” He touched George’s chest. “I will brand you, and I will marry you. I don’t care about your old life. I want us to make a new one.”

He had known it as soon as he had seen his eyes. It was a man, and over the last weeks, many men had taken him, in his arse, in his throat, and he had been made to fuck men. But Henry was the only one who had made love to him, using his strong hands to form him to his will without words, threats, or whips.

George liked the idea of making a new life, even if it was with a man and as his pony. He wanted to leave his old life behind him and get a new chance to make things right.

So George nodded, whinnied and stepped forward, leaning his head against Henry’s shoulder. Henry breathed out and petted his pony and his husband-to-be.

Maria was happy to have a tail, a symbol that she had made it. All the hard work and everything she had gone through had paid off. She was a true pony, ready to be claimed.

She had heard what Henry had said to George and wondered if she would be claimed too if any of the riders wanted her. She was sure that there were some. She just wasn’t sure they wanted her, but she hoped there would be at least one. She didn’t care if it would be a man or a woman. It didn’t matter.

The only thing she wanted was to be cared for, loved and owned for the rest of her life. Hopefully, she would be allowed to extend that protection to at least her sister. Maybe even send her to school, have her learn a trade, and, if they were lucky, help her become a citizen.

“Ponies. You have been working hard, and you deserve a proper rest day. So we are taking you on a picnic. You will be free to roam and play. There is also a lake to swim in.”

There were excited neighs, whinnies, and stomping. A full rest day, swimming and playing and doing nothing. No machines, no plough, no endless walking.

The ponies didn’t know it, but it had been more than three months since they had arrived. After the blind trust test, it was time to re-socialise them.

Most Humans that stayed ponies all the time became, at some stage, despondent and listless. They gave up at some stage and just became drones. For a true pony, it was important that it could live a normal life in society and still be a pony to their riders. Most Riders had regular jobs or responsibilities, as did ponies. Sure, some were also mothers or Fathers, but all were part of society.

Over the century, the Farm explored various methods and options for training ponies, and during this time, people’s preferences, morals, and orientations also evolved and changed. Nothing was ever static. A hundred years ago, a gay marriage would have been unthinkable. Sure, the Farm had not even cared then, and ponies were branded by same-sex riders, but the riders had to hide their true feelings outside the Farm. The members of the Farm, the riders as well as their ponies, had pushed change forward. Nowadays, it was easier. Same-sex marriages were not uncommon.

Most riders, as well as some ponies, were rich or came from rich families, so they needed to fit in. Even George could not just disappear. Even if he would have been sold off as a slave, people would have known. But so, he disappeared and would resurface in some months as Henry's husband, and everyone would think that Henry had tamed him. Mostly, only the families knew that their offspring was a rider or a pony.

For this to work, the ponies needed to be socialized and learn how to behave probably in society. That part of the training started now, and it was accompanied by more pony training. And there were tests, too, that needed to be passed and punishment to be meted out if they failed.

“Melissa, Henry, take your pony and go. Maria and Julia will follow soon. The stable hands will have set up everything by now at the lake.”

“Come, let’s have some fun,” Melissa said excitedly, clipping a lead into Andrea’s bridle and leading her off.

Mindy took Maria and Julia by their bridles and led them back to the arena. There, arrayed, stood two columns of riders.

“Maria, the riders to the left are the ones who want to claim you. Julia, yours are to the right. I want you both to walk the lines. Each of the riders will talk to you and touch you. Return here.”

Maria was a bit perplexed. Would she need to choose? How could she choose? Who was the right rider and partner for her? She was nervous as she walked to the three riders who wanted to claim her. Each of them spoke their name and recalled one good night treat they had given her. Then they touched her body, caressing her.

Julia was also walking down her line of four riders who were competing for her, and she felt amazing. She had four riders competing for her. For the dirty, grunting pony that liked pulling the plough and liked to be fucked in the arse.

When they returned to Mindy, she said, “Ponies indicate by standing next to him or her who your favourite is. Or if you can’t or don’t want to decide, stand with me.”

Julia didn’t hesitate. She walked to Charles, the older bearded rider who had made her pull the heavier plough and whipped her back until she could pull it.

Maria kept standing next to Mindy.

“Charles, take your pony to the lake. The others, thank you for your service.”

Charles took Julia’s lead and guided her off. ““You will be my wife and my racing pony. Do you like that?”

She did. She nodded and smiled as much as her bit allowed.

“Riders. This pony wants to be chosen.” Mindy removed her bit. “Maria. Speak your conditions.”

Maria was totally perplexed now. She was a pony. How could she make demands? She had never demanded anything from anyone. Nobody ever gave her an option before. Mindy put an arm around her.

“When you are married, you will be your rider’s pony, but you will also be their wife and equal partner. For that to be possible, you need to tell them what you want in a rider and partner.”

Maria hesitated. She had been conditioned well, and Mindy was proud of that, but it also showed why the next part of training was necessary.

“Maria, don’t be shy. I know this is hard for you, and it's not only because you have been conditioned to be silent. I know that nobody ever asked what you wanted out of your life. You grew up only surviving. If you need more time, these riders will wait because until you are chosen, you are my responsibility. And I will make sure you are safe.” Mindy said matter-of-factly.

Maria found the strength she needed. “Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for looking after me,” she said.

Mindy embraced her. “You have become a good pony, and I’m proud of you. You bring new blood into the old bloodlines. Now. Let them know your conditions.”

“I want my sister to have a good life and learn a trade.”

“Any rider that can’t fulfil this, step back.”

None of them did. “Looks like you should name more conditions.”

Maria almost panicked. She had never been able to choose anything like that. She had worked hard to become part of the Farm and worked as hard as she could to be the best pony she could be.

“Let’s turn this around. Riders, persuade this pony.”

The young rider who had preferred to fuck her in the arse said. “I’m rich, so you will be rich. You and your sister will never want for anything.”

The older woman who had put her through the parcours said. “I will make sure your sister is cared for as if she were my own daughter. I will make sure she gets the best education she wants. Anyone else in your family will have a place in our family. I also want to breed you. I cannot have children, but I want them with you.”

The last rider was about to speak when Maria moved and stood next to the older woman.

“Hey, I haven’t said what I offer,” the last rider complained. Mindy shut him up. “The pony has chosen. That’s the end of it. Riders, dismissed.”

Penelope, Maria’s rider and wife-to-be, began to shake. Then she cried. Maria leaned into her and cuddled her with her body.

One of Mindy’s jobs was done. Her ponies were paired up. An excellent result. The last herd had been a slight disappointment. One colt had been rebellious, even after they had taken his balls off. He had been auctioned off outside the Farm to some rich old citizen who had a collection of ponies.

Melissa guided Andrea along the path. Henry and George were somewhat behind them when Melissa pulled her off the path and into a meadow.

“Stay,” she said, and then she took her bit out.

She breathed deeply several times, then sank to one knee. Andrea's eyes widened.

“I fought for you. That bitch Jessica won’t want to look into a mirror for some time. That’s why there is nobody else left laying claim to you..” She shook her head, irritated with herself. “What I wanted to say is, I realised I want you to choose me, not force you into it. I know you are not really into women, and if you don’t want me, I will step back, and a male rider can claim you. There are three, but they are a bit scared right now.”

She stopped for a moment.

“I’m a bit nervous… Anyway.” She breathed out again. “I love you, and I want to marry you. I promise you I will look after you. I promise you that I will make you happy. I promise to give you structure, rules, guidelines and love. Everything you never had. I want to breed you. I want to have children with you. I want you to select a stallion that will impregnate me. I want us to become a good, loving family.” She bit her lip and said, “Please choose me.”

Andrea’s head was in tumult. So many thoughts rushed through her at once that she could not make sense of them. Melissa had said a lot of things, but only one stuck with her. Give her structure, rules and love, everything she never had.

It hit her then and there; this was what she had been missing her whole life. Nobody had ever really cared for her, guided her, or loved her.

Andrea nodded.

Melissa looked up, a little annoyed. “Some words would have been nice…. Oh! Sorry. Speak. When your bit is out, you have words.”

“Does that mean I will wear a bit or gag for the rest of my life with you?” Andrea asked, amused.

“If you are that sassy. Yes, I will gag you and cane your butt for good measure.” Melissa replied, amused. A silence broke out between them. Melissa was still on her knees, wanting Andrea to say something, but Andrea left her hanging a bit more because she could.

“You are doing this on purpose,” Melissa said slowly, tilting her head.

“Yes.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m your pony. You are my rider and my wife-to-be. What more do I need to say?” Andrea finally answered.

Melissa jumped up and hugged her, then slowly went and kissed her like she had wanted for a long time. Andrea could get used to kissing a woman…in time.

George and Henry arrived at the lake first. Four large picnic blankets had been set up under shady trees just above the lake’s waterline. Picnic baskets were on each blanket.

“Stay,” Henry said, taking George’s bit out and removing his bridle. George blinked, unsure what was next. Then his arms were freed. “George, when your bridle is off and your arms unbound, you are my partner. You are allowed to speak. I want you to be my George. A new George. A George we build together. Can you work with that?”

He looked at Henry, stunned. Henry continued in a sarcastic, amused tone, lifting his eyes. “Thanks, Henry. I’m sooo thrilled that I will be your partner. Let’s eat and swim.”

George laughed, really laughed, until he started to cry. Henry hugged him. George’s arms came around Henry, hugging him back and holding him close. “I would like to swim, please. Can we please do that…. Henry?” he finally said, in a voice he did not know he had, using words he had never used before.

“Yes, my love, we can. Let’s go!” Henry grabbed his hand, and they ran into the water fully dressed, laughing their heads off.

Melissa and Andrea arrived hand in hand. Melissa had taken Andrea’s bridle off and unbound her hands earlier.

“Would you like food first or a swim… or whatever they are doing?” Melissa asked, pointing at the two men splashing around in the water like kids.

“I like to talk to you. Get to know you. I want to talk to you as long as I’m allowed to talk to you.”

And they sat down on a blanket and talked. Melissa answered everything Andrea wanted to know, which was a lot. “I’m starting to regret taking your bit out,” Melissa said, amused.

“Well, you could kiss me again and get me used to it…. “ Andrea said and was promptly toppled over and kissed within an inch of her life.

“You know that from time to time, I want to spank you and maybe cane you.”

“I know. I’m your pony. You do what you need to do to me…. Just… “ and she hesitated.

“Just…?” Melissa prompted.

“Just please tell me if I did something wrong or if you do it for your pleasure. I need to know that. Please.”

“I promise. I also promise to let you choose some colts, stallions or riders you can fuck from time to time.”

“Only if you are there with me.”

“OK, that works for me. Let’s get into the water. Come on, or am I marrying a water-shy pony?”

Maria and Penelope talked while they walked to the lake. “Thank you for choosing me. I will be the best rider and partner I can be for you. And I will make sure your sister is cared for. I will get her details from the Farm records and have her brought into our household. Your Father as well. He knows about this? Does your sister?”

“Yes Ma’am… “

“No! I’m Pen to you. Or, if I’ve been bad, Penelope. You will be my wife.” She put an arm around her, and it felt good. Maria stopped, turned to Penelope, and hugged her properly. Penelope hugged her back. Maria felt so good there, in her arms, so safe and wanted. It was just so hard to let go. She had only sobbed on the first day, mainly because she had been embarrassed and scared. After that, tears were something that pain produced. Now she felt she wanted to cry because she was happy, but she couldn't. She really wanted to let go and cry. It took her a moment to find the courage to ask.

“Pen…. Can you please hurt me? I want to cry. Please.”

Penelope looked at her pony and tilted her head, questions running through her head. Then she understood. It would be a long, hard road for them. This pony, this woman, knew nothing but suffering.

She nodded and then let her lean against a tree and spanked her as hard as her hand could take it and until her pony cried. Then she hugged her, and Maria cried in her arms, hugging her back fiercely, finally able to let go of her emotional baggage a bit. It would be a long way.

Julia was running, Charles ahead of her, pulling her by the lead past Maria and up to the lake. Her rider wanted to stop there. Instead, she pulled him along into the lake until they were splashing in the water. Charles had to hold her up while he unbound her arms so she could swim.

“You are a crazy pony. Wait. Hold. Stop splashing around. Let me undo your bridle.” Julia shook her head. Her arms were needed, not her new bridle.

“No! Listen. Stay, or I'll whip you. That’s better. Now, hold still. Ok. I want not only a pony, but I also want a partner. Now it is partner time.”

He said it, but got no further before she slung her arms around him. ulia knew about the concept of partner time from her parents, but she had never fully understood it. She liked being a pony.

“But I’m very proud of being a pony, and I don’t know much about what we can talk about. I’m sorry.”

“That’s ok.” He said, holding on to her. “Tell me something about you growing up in a stable.”

“I’d rather not. I came here with some stupid ideas. I was a show pony with only some fantasies that my parents and their owners had fed me. I wasn’t even properly covered before I came here.”

He stroked her face. “That’s ok. I like the pony I meet pulling her guts out trying to move that plough. So, let’s talk about something else. Do you want to be bred? Do you want to have children? Would you want them to become riders, ponies, or just normal people?”

The couples talked and got to know each other as partners. Then, the ponies talked together, their riders giving them some space.

“I’m sorry I have been such a bad pony in the beginning. But you helped me be a better pony. Thanks, Andrea, for being my lead mare.” Said, Julia.

Andrea cuddled her, something she had wanted to do for a long time. “That’s ok. You gave me something to focus on, even if it was hate at first. It became caring faster than I expected. Hey George, I’m happy you kept your balls; I might call on them if I want foals.”

“Really? I would be honoured. Really, I would. I mean...” And he blushed. “… I have been an arsehole all my life, a real arsehole. And I know you know because we saw each other at a couple of parties, but you were clever enough to stay away from me. Now I’m a willing arsehole for my husband to use… fitting, right?”

They laughed. Maria said. “You are the first people…ponies… ahh… that I would call friends.”

“You are part of my herd, and you will always be part of my herd.” Said Andrea.

“Thanks, Andrea. You will always be my lead mare.”

They ate, they played, they splashed in the water.

Mindy appeared as the sun began to set. “Riders, please take your ponies back to their stalls. They have training ahead of them tomorrow.”

“Hey, Gorgeous. Let me fix your bridle.” Melissa said softly, and Andrea held her head up and put her arms behind her back. “That’s a good pony,” Melissa said, and Andrea whinnied.

“George, let’s go. Get up. Good.” Henry smiled as he pushed George's arms behind his back. He wasn’t fighting him. He just wanted to feel Henry’s strength, to be forced. Henry could do that; he would like that.

Maria stood up and put her hands behind her back, ready to be a pony again.

Julia bolted, laughing hard and running in circles around the trees. Charles ran after her, and it took a moment for him to catch her.

“You are a crazy pony, you know that?” She nodded, blew out, and stomped.

As they were put into their stalls, they were not tethered to the wall; their arms were released from the binding, and their harnesses were removed. Their tails were cleaned and hung up in their stall. Only their bridles remained, bits still in their mouths.

They were ponies. They were trusted to be and stay ponies until their riders told them otherwise.

Their riders gave them their goodnight treats. And the stable was filled with moans, neighs and whinnies. The riders enjoyed their ponies and the ponies the attention of their own riders.

It felt strange, sitting with the same women she had brought to orgasm earlier—seeing their pussies up close, open, and even catching their distinct scents. She had heard them moan, seen them orgasm. But the others didn’t seem to care.

“Stop being so stuck up,” Ramona said after a while, rolling her eyes. “Just girls having some fun together. What’s the issue?”

“No. No. I get it.” Melissa waved a hand dismissively. “Silvia is right. When I trained on you guys, it took me a moment too... wasn’t easy to get over the smell of your pussies.”

“You bitch!” Anne exclaimed, her voice playful but loud enough to make the others laugh. Someone threw a piece of bread at Melissa, and soon, everyone joined in the laughter.

The ice was broken for Silvia, and as she relaxed more, the lunch became surprisingly enjoyable. She realised how much she had missed this—since Nancy’s death, she hadn’t connected with other women at all.

Once lunch was over, Silvia and Helena cleaned Slaughter Rooms 1 and 2 together, and that went extremely fast. After cleaning, they retrieved a carcass from cold storage.

“Point out where to cut,” Helena instructed as they worked.

Silvia nodded, focusing on the body in front of her. She didn’t know all the cuts or procedures yet, but she pointed out the main ones confidently, her training paying off.

After Helena had finished with the carcass, Silvia wrapped up the premium cuts in packages, labelled them and stored them back in the cold room for pickup.

Helena had taken off the arms and legs, making them Shanks and shoulders. She had learned all the terms by now. As a pig became pork, a pussy became a Cunt and an arm a Shoulder. Helena put them aside and went to pull the next carcass “Okay. Silvia. You take the hands and feet off all the Shoulders and Shanks while I do the torsos.”

Silvia’s breath caught. This would be her first time cutting into flesh and bone, not just leftovers from the sausage containers.

She took one of the severed shoulders to the table. She had handled the dead meat before, but not a whole shoulder. It felt strange holding an arm, Margaret’s arm to be precise.

“Nope,” Helena interrupted her as she wanted to lay the Shoulder on the worktable. “That’s your table over there. That’s your worktable now.”

Silvia froze, staring at one of the three empty butcher tables. Her own table? The room had six tables, and now she had her own table.

Excited, she carried the shoulder over, heart pounding. The meat felt cold, but the skin still felt like skin. She set the knife, but then stopped.

She had never done this before—never cut into something so real. She tried to recall the diagrams from the medical books she had studied. Silvia traced the bones and muscles on the shoulder while she reviewed the drawings in her mind.

Helena watched her intently as she hesitated, deciding between two angles. Finally, Silvia walked to one of the containers, pulling out a severed hand without much thinking about it. She studied how it had been cut, examining the precision of the work.

Armed with the knowledge, she returned to the arm and began cutting. Even knowing where to cut, it was harder than she’d imagined. Cutting into real meat, something that had been a person two hours ago, felt...strange. The knife sank into the skin. Silvia had cut herself by accident often enough, but this was dead meat, it didn’t react. She took a deep breath and cut deeper.

The ligaments resisted her blade, and she had to adjust her strength to get through them cleanly. Finally, the hand came free. I took the hand, the hand I just cut off an Shoulder of Girl meat. Pink nail polish. The nails needed to be removed from the hands and feet anyway. Nobody wanted to cook nails.

She frowned at the cut. It wasn’t clean.

“Good enough for a first try,” Helena said, stepping closer. “But why did it take you so long?”

“Respect,” Silvia replied, her tone defensive. “Same reason we don’t kick heads around like footballs.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. But who deserves more respect—the dead body or the living one, waiting in fear?” She gestured to the clock.

Silvia paused, considering her words. The dead could wait, if they were cooled properly. The living—stiffening in fear, waiting for their turn—couldn’t. She had waited and knew. It clicked.

“I’m a beginner,” Silvia admitted. “You can do it quickly because you’ve had years of practice. You’re saying I need to learn more.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Helena replied. “You need to be quick and accurate. That’s how you respect both the dead and the living.”

Silvia nodded. It made sense.

Helena continued, “So, I want you to do it again—slowly. Focus on doing it right. Once your body remembers the cut, you’ll go faster. Makes sense?”

“Yes, Helena. I understand.”

Silvia hesitated before adding, “Helena? Thanks. For teaching me.”

Helena smiled—rare but genuine. “You’re welcome. You’re making good progress. Now, take off all the hands and feet, and then we need to get ready.”

Silvia returned to her task, working slowly and methodically. Each cut felt more precise than the last, her confidence growing with every success. By the time it was time to prep for the afternoon bookings, she felt ready.

That afternoon, Kirin was already trembling when she entered the prep room, her arms clutched tightly around her chest. Her sobs were soft but constant, her body rigid with fear. She was on the smaller side, and Silvia’s eyes flickered to her hands and feet; her mind showed her the cut.

Silvia shook her head slightly to push the picture out of her mind and focused on the still-living woman.

Kirin was cooperative, but she was so consumed by fear that it was hard to watch. Silvia understood. Kirin was about to die. In Silvia’s limited experience, all the women had made peace with the fact that they were about to be slaughtered. Silvia had. A shudder still ran down her spine thinking about her fake slaughter.

As Silvia pushed her out into Slaughter Room 2, Kirin lost it and just wailed constantly.

Silvia started the vibrator while Helena knelt beside her, speaking softly. Her words were calm and measured, but Kirin wouldn’t let go.

Silvia worked the vibrator gently against her clit, trying to coax her into relaxation, petting her, using all techniques she knew. But Kirin’s breathing remained shallow and panicked. Silvia glanced at Helena, worry creasing her brow.

“Silvia, stop for a second,” Helena instructed.

Helena turned back to Kirin, her voice low and deliberate, as she stroked her trembling body.

“Listen, Kirin. I know you’re scared. But you won’t leave this room alive. You will die here. You know that.” Helena gave her a second to absorb it. “There are only two options: we can try again, help you go in peace with an orgasm, feeling nothing. Or,” she paused, brushing Kirin’s cheek gently, “I can cut your throat. It’ll be quick. It’ll hurt just a bit. You probably panic—but it’ll be over in less than half a minute. How can we help you?”

Kirin shuddered, tears spilling down her forehead. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came.

Silvia stayed calm and softly stroked her leg, just as Alexandra had once done to her.

Then Kirin’s whole body let go, sagging into the straps as if something inside her had just... surrendered.

Her voice was a whisper: “Clit. I’m just afraid... sorry...”

“It’s okay,” Helena reassured her, stroking Kirin’s hair. “Just breathe with me.”

Helena started breathing slowly, deeply. Kirin followed—her rhythm uneven at first, but improving.

Silvia waited for Helena’s nod before switching the vibrator back on.

“Use your fingers,” Helena instructed softly.

Silvia inserted a finger into her, hesitating at first, but Kirin’s gasp made it clear she wanted more. She slid more fingers into her, and Kirin liked it. Silvia’s thrusts were gentle, deliberate, and timed, just as Melissa had shown her. Gradually, Kirin’s sobs turned to gasps of pleasure, and Silvia could feel her finally letting go.

Kirin came with a shudder, her body relaxing completely for the first and last time.

When she was gone, Silvia placed the vibrator aside and looked down at Helena, her voice thick. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Helena placed a hand on Silvia’s shoulder, steadying her. “No. This wasn’t your fault. This happens sometimes. Some women can’t let go until you tell them they are going to die and give them options. You did everything right.” She sighed, her expression softening. “Sometimes, you just have to give them clear choices. Only their carcass can leave this room. You made it good for her in the end.”

Silvia hesitated, her voice quiet. “Would you have just cut her throat?”

Helena nodded slowly. “Yes.” She stood up. “Silvia, our job is to kill them and make ‘Girl meat’ out of them. We are butchers; this is livestock. Everything else we do, we do because we believe in it.”

Silvia blinked and looked at Kirin’s dead body.

“Sometimes you have no other choice but to just cut their throats. The longer you wait, the more it tortures them. I would have waited only a second longer and then cut her, so she wasn’t prepared and had no time to be afraid. That’s the only mercy you can give. They have to die. There is no other path.”

Silvia nodded, swallowing hard. She understood the reality of it, but deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready to make such decisions.

“Okay... I’ll gut and behead her quickly. The next one is still waiting.”

They moved swiftly, and just five minutes later, Helena and Silvia stood at the door, greeting the next naked woman for her slaughter.

Over the next weeks, Silvia adjusted to the different reactions women had to being slaughtered. Some, like Kirin, needed coaxing. Others were calm and business-like, having made their peace long before arriving. She noticed that the younger women had less resentment and could let go easier. Most were her age, maybe because of the education programs; it was easier. Maybe.

But the reality was that between the women entering the prep room and the body entering the cooling room was only maybe 5 to 10 minutes. Women came, orgasmed, bled, died, were gutted, beheaded, and their Girl meat was moved into storage. It became somehow routine. But still, with every woman, Silvia and Helena gave their best to make that woman feel cared for.

The preparation rooms helped most of the women relax, but each woman was different in some way. Not only their body type, their boobs, or their muscle mass, but their temperament.

Silvia also noticed how differently women came—from earth-shattering loud to just a soft, pleasant expression. She needed to learn to judge that too, so she would understand when to cut. In her mind, she timed the throat cuts, and slowly, she came closer to Helena’s rhythm.

Silvia spent the weeks honing her knife skills. She cut hands and feet slowly and methodically, just as Helena had taught her, practising until her movements became smooth and confident. But she also learned to debone Shoulders, Shanks, hands and feet. Learning how to skin and extract the meat.

With each last client of the shift, Helena guided her through the complete butcher cuts, explaining every detail with precision while Silvia watched intensely and asked questions whenever she was unsure.

This part of her training—when Helena took the time to explain her cuts in detail—Silvia found especially satisfying. Helena taught her more than the books ever could. She taught her cuts in the context of the body they came from. She explained the culinary value of each cut, showing why more fat here or more muscle there changed the taste, texture, or even the cooking method.

It finally made Silvia understand that every woman, every body type, needed different cutting methods to make the best Girl meat out of her.

Clapton South cut for throughput. Here, they created quality. Artisan Girl meat. With each lesson, Silvia learned more, understood more, and realised how much more there was to learn in her chosen profession.

The more Silvia was involved in the butchering, the more she looked at naked women’s bodies differently. Seeing how their body would come apart and become cuts. She hated it, but Helena told her that it would go away when it all became more routine, and Silvia hoped that was true. At least that only happened at work. Silvia didn’t have that issue when she saw other women outside, like shopping.

But when she saw the Girl meat section of the supermarket, she took more time and looked at the cuts there. She could see the difference between what they produced and what the Processing Centre produced. Silvia would not end up here if it ever happened. Her Girl meat would be good.

What also happened, and Silvia hated even more, was that it became harder to talk to her dad about her job.

She had tried, but he had flat-out told her he couldn’t handle it. Fair enough. She understood it must be hard for him. Sometimes, she suspected he still saw her as that frightened, confused eight-year-old. They still made time for each other, but slowly, Silvia felt there wasn’t much she could really talk to him about anymore. It saddened her.

She wished she had someone who truly understood—someone she could talk to about her experiences.

Sure, she could talk to Nancy’s sticker, and sometimes she did. But what she craved was someone real—someone who would listen, offer feedback, and understand.

When Friday rolled around again, Alexandra and Ramona asked if she wanted to go dancing with them. Silvia was relieved and grateful for the invitation.

Helena didn’t join them. She rarely did. Between running the Centre and teaching Silvia, she needed to spend time with her teenage twins, whom she was raising on her own. Silvia didn’t know much about Helena’s private life, but ever since her initiation, Helena had opened up a little more.

Dancing was fun. Alexandra and Ramona were good company, easy to talk to, and, like most women, more or less on the hunt for men.

However, Alexandra didn’t hunt. Silvia wasn’t sure how she did it, but women or men just came to her—as if she had some magic that just drew them in.

Due to the genome changes, and even with the effects of the culling, there were still far more women than men—roughly one man for every two women.

Society had adapted. Lesbian couples were common, as were throuples, usually two women and one man. Other configurations existed but didn’t get official recognition or tax benefits.

Silvia didn’t know exactly what she wanted. She preferred men, but a woman could be attractive too.

She would be open to a throuple, but like most women, she found it hard to make that kind of connection.

A female fling for a night was easy enough, but finding something long-term? Or even male? That was rare. And Silvia wanted more—eventually, she wanted a family. Kids. Maybe she would just get inseminated, but if she was honest, she preferred the good old method.

But for now, she was just happy to have a distraction.

And that distraction was cute: fox-red hair, a headband with fox ears, and a teasing smile.

The girl looked a little younger than Silvia, but not by much. They danced together, a spark of electricity passing between them.

“Hey, Vixen,” Silvia said, grinning. “You wanna come and look at my stamp collection?”

The girl rolled her eyes dramatically but then bit her lip and nodded.

“Cool. Let me just tell my friends, and then we’ll go. Don’t want the stamps to get cold.”

Silvia pointed toward Alexandra, who already had a man and a woman kneeling at her feet. How did she do that?

The vixen giggled—then froze. Her eyes widened in shock.

“Her? You know her!? Do you know what she does?” she asked, her voice rising. “She’s a Girl Butcher!!”

“I know. We work together,” Silvia said, confused by the reaction.

The vixen’s face twisted in horror. She stared Silvia down, pure disgust in her expression. It felt like there was an ice wall between them all of a sudden, but then it shattered as the vixen exploded into rage.

"Get away, you fucking freak!" she screamed, pushing Silvia back.

"I don't want to end up on your grill. You psycho murderer!"

Silvia froze, stunned.

"Go away!" the vixen shrieked, shoving her again.

Silvia stumbled back, still processing, when she felt Alexandra’s arm close around her.

"Come. We're going," Alexandra said firmly.

The vixen kept screaming after them, loud and shrill enough for the whole club to hear.

"They're Girl Butchers! Girl Butchers! Murderers! Killers!"

Faces turned toward them, and Silvia saw only disgust and hate in their eyes.

They picked up Ramona on the way out. Ramona just sighed. "Fuck. Another club ruined. Silvia, did you tell her?" she asked as they hurried into the night.

Silvia shook her head, her voice small. "No. I just pointed to Alex and—"

"Ah. Yeah. Alex, you're becoming a liability," Ramona said, exasperated. "Seriously."

Alexandra shrugged. "Not my fault. I don’t tell anyone. I’m not stupid. I don’t know how this keeps happening."

"Anyway, that club’s fucked for a while. Let’s get some late-night snacks."

Ramona steered them toward a diner still open at 2 a.m., and they collapsed into a booth with greasy fries and milkshakes.

“I think it must have been my ex who started it,” Alexandra said, leaning back in the booth. “He was so jealous when I left him for that gorgeous brunette. Dick or not, she had more sex drive than ten bulldozers.”

“So you never tell anyone your profession?” Silvia asked.

“Never,” Alexandra said firmly. “Or that I work at a Processing Facility. It’s like having the Purple Spots.”

“Worse,” Ramona added, slurping her milkshake. “If they don’t run, they have that creepy morbid fascination. That’s even worse.” Her expression twisted in disgust.

“Sorry, Silvi,” Alexandra said, her tone softening using the nickname they had given her when they were off duty. “But you chose a very... socially unacceptable profession. But the truth is, they demonise us while still happily chewing on Girl meat.“ Alexandra shrugged. “It’s not easy to find a stable and good partner.” She smirked. “Should have become a prostitute. Socially way more acceptable.”

Ramona snorted, amused. “A prostitute? As a woman?”

Silvia played with a chip on her plate, remembering what had happened when her classmates found out where she worked. “My dad can’t even talk to me about it anymore.”

Ramona reached over and put an arm around her. “You can always talk to us. Anne is nice too. Alex... well...” She shrugged teasingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexandra asked, mock-offended. “Seriously, Silvi, you can always talk to me. Or even better, talk to Hels.”

Silvia frowned. “Helena doesn’t like me very much.”

That was greeted by a burst of laughter from both Alexandra and Ramona, leaving Silvia staring at them uncomprehendingly.

“She only plays tough and strict,” Ramona said, grinning. “Girl, she’s really impressed with your progress—and she likes you. Don’t be fooled by her act.”

Alexandra leaned forward, her tone more serious. “After Julia, her former apprentice, got her Letter, it hit Helena hard. They spent two years training together, and Julia was close to her accreditation. I think that’s why Helena keeps a bit of distance from you. She’s still hurting.” She paused, drinking even more. Silvia was not sure where she put all the alcohol. Was that a butcher thing—drink it away until you didn’t feel it anymore?

“Every one of us went to Julia’s slaughter together with her parents and her two sisters,” Alexandra continued. “And later we all sat down to eat her Girl meat. Nothing ever went to a supermarket. She was ours.”

Ramona paused, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that was weird, knowing what—or whom—you’re eating. It was …hard at first, but she asked us to. Keep her in the family, and I get that. I don’t want to be… anyway…” She cut herself off.

“I ate some of my friend Nancy, and yes, I understand. Totally,” Silvia confessed.

Ramona smiled but then grew serious. “I’d never seen a slaughter before that. It was very different from what I thought it would be. Somehow, it was peaceful and... I don’t know… good? Anyway. Only then did I truly understand what we do. What we provide. It was … eye-opening. And yes... I never talked about that before.” She paused and looked at the others. “We all accompanied her through the stages. The undressing, the cleaning, the cool-down. She was composed, not afraid, not nervous, but just sad that this was the end for her.” Ramona shook her head to clear it. “Her sister made her cum with the vibrator. Helena did the cut, Melissa did the gutting, and Alexandra took the head. It was gruesome, but... she went in such peace and acceptance... If I get my Letter, I won’t be afraid anymore.”

“After that, we destroyed her knife,” Alexandra added. “It kind of links everything together; even if her knife only killed her, nobody would ever use it again. It was hers.”

Silvia had been uncertain before how she would handle it if her Letter ever came, but now she knew how she would go. She’d want all of them to be there with her, especially her father, just like they had been for Julia. Be a part of them. But she would have to ask Helena, and she didn’t feel ready for that. Helena still scared her sometimes.

“Anyway,” Ramona said, breaking the moment. “You want to talk? Talk. I’m listening.”

Silvia took her hand, squeezing it. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Alexandra leaned forward, more serious now. “Silvi... you know, you could even date one of the Plant Butchers.”

Silvia blinked. “Them?” Her voice came out disgusted, as if she had stepped into something revolting. She couldn’t help it—the memory of the processing plant still haunted her.

"Stop judging if you hate being judged," Alexandra said sharply. "They don't have it easy. Helena took you to the Plant at the worst possible time. I know because I did the same to Melissa. And you'll do it to your apprentice too—to show how bad it can get."

She paused, letting it sink in before continuing.

“Some of them try to make a difference. But when you have to slaughter one hundred women a day, it changes you. Most either burn out... or become callous. It’s not their fault. It’s the system.”

Silvia lowered her gaze, feeling a stab of guilt. She hadn't thought about it that way.

There was silence between them for a while as they fished for chips or sipped their drinks.

"So, you like girls too?” Ramona said, changing the subject. “You went with that couple the other time. I’m really only into boys. I tried a girl once—meh, it didn’t do much for me. Same plumbing. Boring."

"Come on, that vixen was H-O-T. I would have done her in a heartbeat!" Alexandra added eagerly.

Silvia was all for switching topics. They dove into girl talk—sharing their preferences, laughing about past encounters, and venting about lovers' bad habits and shortcomings. And for the first time, Silvia felt less alone.

She was more than happy with how the evening went. As much as the vixen would have been fun, talking with other girls about anything and everything... she had missed that. A lot.

But it also made her feel the hole Nancy had left in her life even more. She needed to do something about it. So, the first thing she did was to ask Anne, Ramona, and Melissa out for some coffee. Trying to bond, knowing that these women would not judge her.

But Helena overheard her and jumped right into it.

“As if only the young chicks are invited... Seriously. The old girls are coming too,” she said, casually adding herself and Alexandra to the outing.

Silvia loved it, especially as it got her a bit closer to Helena, and somehow, that felt good.

As the weeks went by, Helena assigned her more tasks. Soon, Silvia was doing the butchering, first under supervision but then increasingly on her own. Not yet the premium cuts, but everything else. They alternated tasks, making her feel even more like a true butcher. While Silvia butchered one carcass, Helena would clean a slaughter room, and then they’d switch.

Silvia grew closer to the other women at the facility, but she also began to notice how others reacted to her outside.

Being a Girl Butcher was not a respected profession.

Helena had put it in clear words once:

They were the constant reminder of what could happen to them, their daughters, their sisters, their friends.

It wasn't outright hate, but a quiet avoidance. A turning away.

She had a long talk with her dad about it, and that was when he finally started to come around.

“I’m so sorry, Silvi,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I did this to you too. I shouldn’t have. You have good reasons, and I’m actually proud of your dedication. I’m just... I’m scared that you’ll break.”

Silvia nodded. “Dad, I’m almost twenty. I have a job, I have a future. I know it’ll be hard—for you and for me—but I’m not breaking. I’m stronger.”

And so they started talking. Slowly, carefully. But they talked.

Mindy was seriously furious at that rider, anxious for Andrea, and annoyed by the world in general. These were good ponies, but Andrea was short of getting her third and last strike.

She had a lot of promise, and she knew Melissa had fallen for her eyes and tits and would want to claim her if she passed the tests. She needed to make sure Andrea didn’t self-sabotage again. They had files on everyone. Mindy knew how Andrea had blown university. But she would make a good pony… in time and with stricter control.

She had a brief chat with the director about the incident. It was now up to him to decide what happened to Clara. She would just throw her out of the Farm, not even giving her the chance to become a pony instead. She was not the right fit for that, but it wasn’t her decision. Worse, sometimes money spoke louder than common sense.

It should not, but in the end, it always did, one way or another.

When Mindy returned to the meadow behind the stables, she saw the ponies lying on the grass together, Maria in their midst. Melissa watched over them. At least she could depend on her to ensure the ponies were fine. In time, Melissa would take over Mindy’s role when Mindy retired — if she passed the test. She was clever but not good at learning from books.

Mindy needed to assess how deep the damage from that accident had gone. She didn’t think it went too deep, but the ponies needed to know that they could 1000% depend on their riders to keep them safe. That was important. As much as they needed to lose their free will, it was important that they also remained a human, just as a pony. Nobody wanted a mindless drone; they needed to keep their personalities but then needed to trust their riders unconditionally.

They needed to trust their riders even as they were subjected to fucking, whipping and anything else. They could baulk, they could run, they could deny the riders, but they needed to trust them. That was the point.

“Ponies. There still needs to be punishment meted out for speaking,” she said, leaning on the fence next to Melissa.

Maria moved first. Getting up without arms had become easier, but still, it took a bit of time. Andrea followed, and then the other two.

Maria approached her, turning her head this way and that. Mindy clucked softly to help her find her. She came and put her head against her, and Mindy petted her.

“Good filly. Everything will be all right.”

Andrea arrived and stood next to Maria, flank to flank, showing her support and accepting what would come. “You too, Andrea. Good pony.”

The rest of the ponies came, too. Mindy was relieved, no real lasting damage.

Andrea knew that she might get punished too; she had spoken. So she would accept whatever would come. She didn’t want to end her life in a slum brothel, even if it meant she would have to marry a woman. She could sense Melissa’s perfume and knew she was there.

For Maria, it was fair. She had broken the rules. The easy rules that had been set. But still, she had broken them, and she felt ashamed. Her life here was easy compared with her life before. So much easier. She did not have to fear being raped, killed, or maimed. Sure, she was required to have sex here and be taken whenever a rider desired her, but she had chosen this, knowing full well what it meant. She didn’t have to scramble for food; she was hand-fed three times a day. She didn’t need to fight for a spot in the shower and some dripping stream of tepid water; she was washed with sweet-smelling soap and cared for. And still, she had broken the rules. Punishment was fair.

As George arrived, he pushed himself in front of Maria and Andrea, protecting them and snorting, signalling that he would take their punishment. Julia stepped up next to him.

“OK. Good Colt. Wanting to protect your herd. You have come a long way.” And she petted his muscly chest. “You too, Julia. You have been pulling the heavy plough all by yourself and taking the fucking lessons very well.” She said as she caressed Julia’s boobs. “But rules are rules. A rider keeps his word. You need to depend on our word. Andrea and Maria, you will be caned for speaking. Maria, understand this. Not for running away, for speaking. The rider who was supposed to keep you safe has been dismissed. She failed at her task.”

That was something Maria hadn’t known. She had been too much in her own world to hear Mindy talk to the riders. She thought she was punished for running away. Mindy’s words meant much more to her than she would ever know. They bound her more tightly to this life as a pony. A rider had to take care of their pony, and if they failed, there were consequences for them too. It filled her with a completely different outlook on her future life.

Mindy looked at them; Maria stood tall and nodded. Andrea pushed forward between Julia and George and nodded too. Both accepted what had to be done. Knowing they had broken the rules and accepting the consequences.

“Good ponies. You are brave, and you accept your punishment.” Mindy caressed Andrea’s cheek and then took her bridle. “You’re first. Come.”

“I’ll do her. You can do Maria,” Melissa said, taking Andrea’s bridle from Mindy.

Mindy only rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let go. She had so fallen for that pony that it wasn’t even funny anymore. But, well… twenty years ago, it had been her. That colt, her husband now, that hadn’t gotten out of her mind. So, she had branded and married him.

“Come, Andrea, it is time I make you cry for a change.” And she guided Andrea to the side. Andrea followed, better than a dirty chain.

“You are going to stand and take the cane. Don’t move. You can cry and shout as much as you want. I actually like to hear it. Sorry but I’m just made that way.”

Melissa took a cane from Mindy and smacked Andrea’s arse hard, a glint of excitement on her face. Andrea cried out with the impact and from the pain she had not yet known. This was worse than the whip, much worse. But she had to endure it. Stand and take it. She could do that. She bit down on her bit as the cane bit into her butt cheeks and then let out a cry of pain.

“I love hearing you cry like that.” And she hit her again. Andrea was lost in the pain after the first strokes, only trying to keep standing. Her knees were shaking. Then it was over, and Melissa hugged her from behind. Her hands were on her tits, caressing her and holding her close. “Well done, my pony. You did so well. I’m totally wet from your cries, are you? No? Oh well, you will learn to like it. You will.” Melissa whispered into her ear while caressing her body.

Maria was screaming in pain, too, as Mindy caned her, but she took it. She had deserved it; the pain was intense, and it was hard to take it, and she knew she would feel that for some days to come. But when Mindy cuddled her afterwards, she felt better. “That was well done, too. Good pony. Good filly. Oh, look, you two turned the colt on. He is all stiff and throbbing.”

Melissa had taken Andrea into a proper embrace, cuddling her, letting her sob and talking to her. More and more, Andrea let herself sink into the hold, into the warmth and the caressing hands. She could accept this. It wasn’t so bad.

Julia was a bit jealous about the attention that Andrea got from Melissa. She wanted to be cuddled too. She stomped hard with her hooves. Melissa chuckled. “Come here, Julia. Come. Here, you get some cuddles, too.” And Julia moved toward her and pushed her head against Melissa and Andrea.

Mindy said, “You want some cuddles too, George? I know you are all excited, but you can’t have a filly. Here, have a treat instead. You too, Maria, you’re a good pony.”

Maria started crying, too, and Mindy cuddled and held her. “It’s all good. You are doing well. You will be a good pony.”

In the programme, everyone had at least two breakdowns. The first occurs when they realise their old life is over, and the second when they finally accept being a pony. Some had more than two, but there are usually two major ones. The second requires care, whereas the first requires pain.

Mindy let them all rest a bit more on the grass in the sun. Normally, this would come later in the training, but today, it did the herd good and stabilised them as ponies. That was all that was required. It was Mindy’s job to figure out how to stabilise their pony identity.

As the sun went down, the whole herd grew more relaxed, and Mindy was happy that many positives had come out of this accident. There had been incidents in the past that had not worked out so well. Producing skittish or even unstable ponies.

“OK, it’s time for evening training. Who wants to be first?” Julia stomped with her hooves. She would go first.

Mindy and Melissa guided them back to the main stables, where the other riders waited. One by one, they took their charges to evening training.

Andrea was handed back to the rider she had started the day with. Melissa gave her a affectional slap on her butt. “Have fun and learn to be a good pony. I'll see you in the next few days.”

And with that, they were back into the rhythm of the days. Being touched, being fucked by machines, by riders, fed, washed, cared for, pulling the plough, walking across ever more challenging terrain.

The small differences that happened were what kept the days apart for the ponies and made them special. Such as when the dildos in their belts were upgraded or when they moved on from machines fucking them to riders, teaching them how to stand and what noises to make and so on.

But there were other moments, too.

“Hey, my colt, did you miss me?” George heard one morning and then felt strong hands on him. He wanted to get away, fight. But the hands were stronger, holding him, and he relaxed into them, into the strong embrace that engulfed him.

“I know you need the fight, and I like you fighting and giving in. Come let me play with your balls and your nice thick dick while you eat. Did you notice it got more girth? The vacuum is working nicely. Make you all hard, and if you are a good colt, I will fuck you tonight, slow and deep and make you cum. Would you want that?” George shook his head, stomping his hooves. No, he did not want this.

George felt the strong hand on his shoulders and then a kiss-bite in his neck that sent an electric current through his body directly into his balls and dick. Heny chucked into his ear while kissing his neck. “For someone who doesn’t want it, you get hard very fast. But that’s ok, I understand. I will fight you down. Let’s get your day started.”

George was again confused by his body's reaction. Confusion was somehow the only constant he often felt when his old life collided with being a pony. At least this rider had the strength to handle him, and he liked that. It was a man he could trust. A man who cared about him.

In the evening, Henry, his rider, made love to him. He was strong but still caring and emotional. George lost himself in that feeling of being handled, taken and cared for at the same time. Henry knew what he was doing. George had never been handled like that. He had always been the active one, never the passive one. Especially because Henry gave him something George had never given anyone else. Henry made him cum at the same time as he came himself in his arse, and it felt so good.

George liked it more than he would like to admit to himself. Not the fucking in his arse that wasn’t bad, but didn’t turn him on; however, the lovemaking did. But more importantly, Henry stayed with him for longer, even after lights out, just caressing him. Not saying a word, just stroking his body. Just staying with him until he fell asleep.

Julia was greeted by the older man again, who had first taken her, and she liked him. His voice was low, and his beard did funny things to her when he put his head between her tits. She hoped he would claim her, so she made sure to give him her very best. He made her pull the heavy plough by herself, and she did as best as she possibly could.

“You are getting strong. I can’t wait to put you in front of a sulky and let you race. Would you like that?” Her head came up. She had always thought she would become one of these show ponies that you saw on TV from time to time, but a race pony? Maybe something to think about. She had found stability and purpose in pulling that plough, getting her legs dirty and her body sweaty. Showing everyone that she was not only some pretty pony who didn’t want to get dirty. She also liked to be fucked in the arse by male riders. Liked it when they unloaded deep in her. It was so un-show-pony-like, so dirty and forbidden. Especially if they made her cum while they pumped their load into her.

Maria sensed that there were multiple riders who were interested in her. She could feel that, but she was not sure what to do about it. She was not the one who chose, so she doubled her efforts whenever one of those riders looked after her.

At some stage, it changed again. Riders changed at midday and then later each meal. The ponies became used to being handled and accepted whatever hand took their bridle. Sure, each of them had their favourite rider or riders, but it wasn’t their choice.

But today started very differently. After feeding, Mindy announced. “Take the lenses out and the normal blinkers on.” And one by one, the lenses were removed. They had been blinded for a long time. Time had stopped being important to them, and no pony knew the day or even the month they were in, nor did they really care. After this long time, it was overwhelming to see again. The lenses let light through, so they had not lost anything, but there was so much more input now.

“Hi. I like your real eyes much better.” Said Melissa and then attached real blinkers to Andrea’s bridle.

Andrea hadn’t paid much attention to how Melissa looked before, but now she did. Her long blonde hair was tucked into a bun under her riding helmet, her figure was womanly, and she stood just a head shorter than Andrea. Her smile was a little crooked but amused.

“Like what you see?” She asked shyly, and Andrea nodded her head and stomped once. Of all the riders, she showed her the most care and attention.

Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Good. Listen. You need to trust me completely now. It’s important.” Now her eyes pleaded with her. “Please don’t fuck this up.”

Melissa was nervous. She had laid claim to Andrea, given that she passed the test to come. Melissa knew how Andrea had failed so spectacularly before; it had been the talk of the whole society. She didn’t want that for them. Andrea would be the pony she would take home and marry.

She knew it would still be a long road for them. Branding her, making Andrea love her and eventually breeding her. Melissa took a deep breath and petted Andrea. Only Andrea could now destroy that future.

George looked into Henry’s eyes, and as he did, he knew. Henry would claim him. George had given up the fight. He had given up pretending he did not care. Henry cared for him, and George trusted him. That was all that mattered now. No words were said as Henry attached the normal blinkers to his bridle.

The first thing Julia saw was the full beard of her rider, and she was happy to see him. “Today is special. Be the best pony you can be.” She nodded, and he nodded, too, smiling.

For Maria, it was the older woman, one of the three riders who had shown her the most attention. “You need to be on your best behaviour today.” Maria blew out and put her shoulders back, standing straight.

All of them were washed and taken together to the mounting chair again. They had lost all fear of the chair; they just didn’t like it. It had been hard to be fucked by the machines, especially the last days when they all had to endure large dildos in their holes and the hardest deep-throat training they had had. But that lay behind them now.

But today, they were trimmed and shaved. Landing strips and clean arseholes for everyone. In George’s case, his balls and shaft were shaved clean and oiled.

“You will get your final hairstyle and then laser hair removal from your owner if and when you are claimed, based on whatever he or she decides you should look like.”

Then they were oiled, made pretty and dressed in shining new bridles and body harnesses. Their arms were folded behind their backs and secured there, just like they had seen on Julia when she arrived. The dildo belts that had been their constant companion for a long time were not attached. It felt a bit strange to be empty like that but also easier to walk.

“Now you look like true ponies…. let’s see if you are. We start with the lead. Melissa, take Andrea.”

All the ponies could sense that today was special and that something was about to happen. They became a bit skittish.

Melissa clipped a lead into Andrea’s bridle and guided her out of the stable, over the courtyard and behind the big house, to an arena that was set up with obstacles.

All the other riders, as well as the stable hands, sat in the stands around the arena. In front of one side sat three riders at a table, four long horsetails in front of them.

Evaluation time. Andrea breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. “Don’t be nervous, Andrea. Just trust me and do what you have been doing for the last few weeks. Be the pony you are. Show them. “Melissa's voice became soft, “Show me.“

She swallowed hard, but the picture of a dirty chain leading from her neck to an even dirtier wall would not get out of her mind. She had worked hard, real hard, not to end up with the last option.

Melissa tugged at her bridle. “Breathe. Everything will be good. You are a pony. Just be a pony and trust me.”

She would pass the test, she would be branded, she would marry and whatever happened after that.

They entered the arena, and Melissa announced Andrea, and then they were off. Walking and even, at one stage, running along the parcours . She jumped when she was told to. She ducked when she was told to. The obstacles on the parcours were easy, but it was harder than she thought. With her eyes back, she needed to really let go and trust, not let her brain override what her rider told her to do, not anticipate, not plan, just follow.

Then the obstacles became scary, really scary. Due to the blinkers, she couldn’t see what was to her left or right and not much of what was ahead of her. But she understood what this was. It was the ultimate test of free will against dependence and obedience. She let go, let Melissa take her reins, and followed her lead. Trusting her with her life.

The first real scary obstacle was a small wooden log over red-hot coals, so hot she could feel the heat radiating off them. She didn’t even look down; she had walked across this kind of obstacle before, many times. Now, her eyes told her to be afraid, but she needed to trust her rider, not her eyes.

She set her hooves on the wood, fixed her eyes on some point far ahead, and walked.

A running chainsaw at neck level had to be ducked under, just as she had ducked many times under a branch before. The only difference was that it was loud and looked scary.

A narrow, winding corridor of razor-sharp barbed wire had to be walked like the path through the brambles. It only looked scarier. Let Melissa care about that.

Then, they came to a corridor where canes and whips swung from mechanical arms. This would hurt, this would really hurt.

Melissa let her bridle go. “Stay,” she commanded and then walked around the obstacle to the other side.

“Come to me, pony.” She said, and Andrea stepped into the maelstrom of canes and whips and walked through it. She bit her bit hard, grunting with each impact of the canes and whips, and kept walking at the same pace as she had before until she reached her rider. She was in tears when she finally reached Melissa.

Melissa looked very pleased as she took Andrea’s bridle and walked her to the judges.

“Andrea. 9, 9.5 and 10 for a total of 9.5. Pass.”

Melissa jumped up and down, shouting excitedly. “9.5? Wow. That’s amazing, Andrea. You are a pony now. A true pony.”

One of the judges handed Melissa one of the horsetails. It had a butt plug on it as well as a buckle for her harness.

“Clear the arena for the next contestant,” one of the judges announced, and Melissa guided them back to the stables to her stall, a broad smile on her face.

Andrea was not sure what had happened. Was 9.5 a lot? But they had said ‘Pass’. So she had passed, she had finished something? She had succeeded in something? There had been applause. Andrea was hurting, but she was also elated. Finally, she started shaking and crying.

“Come here. I hold you. You have been amazing. Fearless and walking proud.” Andrea stepped into Melissa’s arms and put her head on her shoulder, crying big pony tears.

“Just cry. Let it go. It’s all right. You made it. You are a pony. Now you can be trained properly… and claimed.”

Andrea was still sobbing. She wouldn’t end up at the end of the filthy chain.

Maria was next, and she let go as much as possible, but it was hard. She had always been someone who wanted and needed to control everything around her. She had lost this over the last weeks and had given in to be led, but with her eyes back, it was hard.

Maria almost refused at the first scary obstacle, the log over the coals, but her rider pulled her along, and after the first few steps of being unsure and overthinking it, she blew out and just closed her eyes and then it worked. She kept her eyes closed until she heard her rider say ‘Stay’ and saw the corridor of pain ahead of her. Her rider awaited her at the other end. She gulped. She knew how much this would hurt.

“Come to me, pony,” her rider said, and after taking a deep breath, she hurried through the punishment as fast as she could.

“Maria. 8, 8, 8.5, for a total of 8.1. Pass.” Her rider was given a horsetail, and they moved back to the stalls.

“You did very well, Maria. I’m proud of you. You are a good pony.” Her rider said, and she felt like the Queen of the world even as her body hurt from the last obstacle.

George was next, and he was guided by Henry. He felt like a total idiot in front of all these people. Made to prance around like that. Then they hit the real obstacles, and he finally understood. He let go of his will and his embarrassment and let Henry guide him. The coals were all right, but the chainsaw freaked him out, and he almost defied Henry. He had always been tall, taller than everyone else, and had grown up constantly banging his head. He had to duck really deep to clear this obstacle.

Henry whispered, almost inaudible, “Breathe, trust.” And George closed his eyes and followed Henry’s lead as a last tear left his eye. He was nothing but a pony now, trusting his rider absolutely. His pride did not matter. His rider’s lead mattered.

The punishment corridor was not that hard; he could take it. It hurt, hurt like hell, but he could take it. What was hard was walking towards his rider, the person who would likely claim him and make him his pony. Walking through the pain to him meant he accepted him as his rider. That was hard.

“George. 6.5, 7, 7.5 for a total of 6.8. Pass”

Henry was given a horsetail and rubbed George’s shoulder, hard and affectionate. “That was acceptable. You could have been much better. We’ll get there. But you passed. That counts.”

Last was Julia, guided by the rider with the beard. As she came to the arena, she was fascinated and excited. This was what she had always dreamed about.

The obstacles were fun, and she performed at her best, with her head held high, legs long, and well-articulated movement. Then they hit the scary obstacles, and it was like a punch to her stomach. This wasn’t fun anymore; it was deadly serious. These obstacles could injure or even kill her. She started shaking and tossed her head. The last weeks had been hard and full of change. She had lost her childish ideas under the whip and the fucking machines. Now, she needed to prove that she had grown up.

tightened her core as she had done with the plough and walked on. The last obstacle was the hardest for her. She had to do it alone, walk into pain alone. Everywhere she had been last week, there had been a rider or her lead mare, someone she could trust. Now, she needed to walk into and through pain alone.

“Come to me pony.” Yes, she was a pony, and yes, she would come, and she stepped into the pain, trying to keep her posture even as her body was tormented. She hurried through it as much as possible.

She was crying hard and a sobbing mess when she finally reached her rider.

“Julia. 9, 9, 9. For a total of 9. Pass”

Julia was sobbing but elated, a 9. She had scored a 9, which was extremely good. She hurt, real hurt. Her body had red stripes and some deep lacerations, but she had passed the pony test. She was now a real pony, ready to be claimed and start her real life. Finally.

COMMENT: This is JUST a story. Just FYI, IRL this would be horrible and nothing I would support.
Also, you have asked for it :) I'm thinking I'll write a marriage one next...maybe...

Over the last week, I have been able to become more open and accepting of the Lord's blessing.

My legs stayed open more easily, giving the Adjuster access to cleanse my sins from my cunt. The Adjuster still hurt my cunt, but that was what it needed to do. Purging sins as a woman was only possible by the pain the Lord gives us through men.

My mother was very proud of me opening up more and more, crying less and accepting the pain as the blessing it should be.

Today was Restday. After 9 days of work, the 10th was the Lord's day. The day He and men rested. On this day, women had to serve their men and the Lord. That day, the whole community went to church to worship the Lord and receive His blessing. Something I was looking forward to.

As a woman, I was now finally allowed to sit with the adults inside Church. In the unmarried section, but inside. Children didn’t go to church; they went to Teaching.

They learned the Cunt’s Prayer and all the other prayers and rituals; they read the Lord’s words and understood their roles in the community that the Lord had assigned to them.

This morning, my mother told me to fetch the Adjuster for the first time, not only to hang it back up. I was excited to be allowed to do that.

I kissed the Adjuster devoutly, knowing it would soon purge my sins from my cunt, and looking forward to its blessing. Then I handed it proudly to my father.

Father slapped me hard in the face. “Do not blaspheme the Lord. The Morning Penance is not a thing to be proud of. You are a sinful woman; you should not be proud of this. The Lord gives you pain because you deserve it.”

I swallowed hard, hy cheek hurt; he had slapped me hard. I nodded and looked to the floor. “Yes father. This Cunt is sorry. Please purge this sin from me.”

“Lay down,” he commanded, taking the Adjuster from my hand.

He used the Adjuster extra hard on me today. I had deserved it.

I cried as the Adjuster made my cunt hurt like it hadn’t hurt before. After Mother and I had received our Morning Penance, we made breakfast.

Mother pulled me aside in the kitchen. She was upset.

“How could you be such a proud little cunt. The Lord's blessing is not something to be proud of. Not something to enjoy.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. Really, I am. I was just so …” I almost had said proud, “…to be allowed to get the Adjuster…it made me feel married.”

Mother gave me a cold stare, but it modified into a nod. “I understand. But do not do this ever again. Now hike up your skirts.”

I followed her order without fail. “Turn around, bend forward. Hold still. Don’t cry. Endure. This is your punishment.”

I gulped. Mother pulled a dried chilli from the garland against the window. I knew what was coming and my legs shivered with fear, but I turned around and bent forward. Mother inserted the chilli into my butthole, and the burning started.

I bit my lip and endured. I let my skirts fall again and turned around to Mother while my butthole was burning like the Devil's own Hell. Mother studied me for a while, and I held it together. My legs trembled under my skirts and my fists clenched.

“Good. Now make breakfast for your father and don’t let him notice it.” Mother said and I did as asked. My butthole was in agony, my cunt hurt from the bleeding of the Adjuster. But I was a woman; a woman had to endure pain as it was bestowed by the Lord to punish us for the sin of being born a woman.

Before we served breakfast, Mother allowed me to remove the chilli, but the burning didn’t stop. It would be a while, and it would hurt. I held it together. Trying to keep my suffering to myself.

Women should suffer in silence, as the Lord said. “Women are the Sin of this world. Their pain is their purpose. Their suffering is their salvation. Their suffering is theirs only.”

After breakfast, Father took Mother to their room so Father could relieve himself in her. He even bestowed a blessing upon her by allowing her to receive the Light of the Lord. I did not know what the Light was, but something that women could receive if their man allowed it.

Something that made my mother shout out loudly, blessing the Lord, something that made her happy and even smile. Mother didn’t get it often, but Father always bestowed it onto her on a Restday.

By midday we went to Church together. Mother had laid out the new adult dress I would wear to church. It was beautiful. Father wore his Restday clothes, letting his dick and balls show freely and proudly. Men had nothing to hide from the Lord; they were his prime creation.

I tried to stifel how proud I felt. I my new dress I would look like any of the other women. It was a white plain cotton dress, but not a girl's one, an adult one.

The fabric pushed my still small, but growing breasts out and up. Plainly visible for everyone to see what I was, a sinful woman. I looked just like my mother's, except that I didn’t had the marriage ring through my left nipple, making me as unmarried.

The skirt was split, showing off my bald cunt, which was red from the Morning Penance, showing everyone what a sinful cunt I had.

An adult woman should not hide her sin from the Lord in his own house or from the community. The same of being a woman could and should not be hid.

We entered the church. I had seen the inside as part of the Teaching. We had been shown where everyone sat. The unmarried women sat to the left, the married couples in the middle and the unmarried men on the right. I made my way to the other unmarried women, most of whom I knew and were my friends.

We nodded to each other. Smiling would be sinful. We were here to worship the Lord, not to gossip or enjoy ourselves. That would be after church.

One of my friends patted the seat next to her, and I sat down. The seats for unmarried women were different from those for married women.

I looked over to my mother as she knelt down in front of my father's chair. Mother bit her lip as the large metal staff on the floor entered her cunt, connecting her to the Lord. I had never seen it before but knew how this should be done. The staff was long and thick. I could not imagine how that staff fit into her. But it did. Finally, Mother sat down fully; the whole staff had disappeared into her. Mother put her hands behind her back in the position of prayer and leaned forward. My father put his dick into her mouth and smiled as he caressed her cheek affectionately.

The unmarried men sat on the other side of the married couples. Each presented their Lord's proof of their manhood clearly visible. I could only see them coming in with thier stiff dicks proudly pointing the way. The Lord showed off his pride in them and I was fascinated. So many sizes. My friend boxed me, not to stare. I lowered my eyes. I was a filthy cunt, even after the Morning Penance.

But I hoped one of them would want me to make me his wife and bless me with his dick.

I sat down. The unmarried seat was shaped like a roof and finished in metal on the top where my cunt would be resting on. The cold metal of the inverted V touched my cunt, and I shivered. I had to adjust my cunt lips to be even on each side of the metal as I sat down.

My weight pressed my cunt into the metal. It hurt. My friend look told me I would get used to it in time. I lifted my legs into the leg holder behind me and put my hands behind my back in the woman’s prayer position. My full weight was now balanced on my cunt that felt like it would split my cunt apart. Without my legs to hold me up, the metal V wedge pressed painfully and deeply into me. I had to bite my lip and endure in silence as all unmarried women next to me had to.

Some had tears in their eyes, some breathed shallowly. Each of them maintained their balance and, from time to time, shifted around. None of them dared to set a foot down, to relieve their hurting cunts from the pressure of their sinful womenly bodies. "Women should feel the weight of their Sin before marriage claims them." it said in the Lords book.

One of the married couples came forward to the front of the church. Fully naked, then men showing his erect dick as the Proof of the Lord’s might, while the woman crawled next to him. They would lead the service this Restday. I remember the RestDay my parents had been prayer leaders. Mother had been so proud.

As they reached the centre stage, they turned around and bowed to the community. “This is the day of the Lord. His day. We bless him.” Then the man said.

The community repeated the words as required. The married women spoke around their husbands' dick. It was a skill learned early on using wood. Only married women were allowed to make direct contact with their husband’s proof of the Lord's might. I could not wait to be married and feel my Lord's proof throught my husband in me. To have children. To have my husband guide me through the Morning Penance.

The prayer leader started to put his wife into the chains that would stretch her out into the symbol of the Lord. The X.

He fastened the chains on her ankles and wrists and then used the pulleys to stretch her out into the air for all the community to see.

“Witness the Lord’s sign carved in flesh.” He said as his wife grunted in pain with the stretch. I had never seen the Lord’s sign like that, and it made clear why women were needed. Their sin made salvation possible; women suffered so men could come closer to the Lord.

The prayer leader took a red leather whip that lay next to the Lord's book and stood behind his wife.

“Women are Sin.” He said, and the whip hit his wife's back.

I shouted out as well, as did all the women in the congregation. The metal between my cunt lips gave me a jolt. An electric jolt of the Lord’s power directly between my cunt lips. We were made to suffer as much as the woman on stage.

I had been surprised and had shouted, but every other woman had shouted "Amen" as it was required. I had been too surprised. I looked over to my mother, kneeling and with my father's dick in her mouth. Her look told me she wasn’t pleased with my performance. I had to do better, and so I willed myself to do so when the next jolt came. The metal staff deep inside of her must hurt her too. "Women that are married, must know the depth of their sin." it said in the book of the Lord.

“Men are the Lord’s tool to purge women from their sin.” The prayer leader said, and all the men from the congregation answered. “We are ready to fulfil our duty”

“Women are to suffer in silence, except when their suffering amuses the Lord.” The prayer leader said, and the whip hit his wife's breasts and his wife screamed.

As the electric jolt ran through my cunt, I screamed the required ‘Amen’.

Today my suffering was for the Lord’s enjoyment. Tears ran down my face. My cunt hurt so much from being pressed into the metal edge and then when the Lord’s jolt came. I was suffering for him. Doing what I had been born for.

I could see my mother suffering too, but she had my father's dick to give her strength. I had to sit and endure, where as Mother was allowed to move the staff in her. I envied her. The service went on, and the agony of my body increased with time. My own weight hurt me. Each little wiggle hurt me. Each jolt hurt me. It was all my own sinful being that hurt me.

My throat was dry from shouting the blessing, but I was not the only one. All the unmarried women suffered with me, and that gave me strength.

The prayer leader's wife’s whole body was whipped: her breasts, her cunt, her arse, her back, her legs. She had red welts all over her, and new ones were added. The woman on stage suffered. All the women suffered with her. I saw my mother's tears. The staff in her must put the Lord's jolt deep into her.

But that’s what our purpose as women was. Women had to suffer. The Lord had said. “I create Men a Women. A tool for his pleasure and mine. A tool that is to suffer. A tool that is to be used.”

With the last whip hit, the woman on stage let her head hang. She was more or less unconscious. That was the sign for the end of Church. She had suffered long and hard, Her Husband could be proud of her.

He was, it was visible. Proudly, the prayer leader announced. “This woman has suffered for the Lord. She has endured well. She has pleased the Lord.” He used the whip a last time hard between her legs. She didn't even grunted or moved. The service was over.

“She has pleased us,” the men in the congregation replied.

All the married men took their dicks out of their wives’ mouths and fisted them hard. I had never seen anything like it. After a short moment, they grunted and white fluid erupted from their dicks onto their wives' faces.

So this is how that happened. I had seen my mother after church with the white fluid on her face, proudly displaying it.

I had wondered how the Lord's blessing was bestowed onto women through the men.

I glanced over to the unmarried men. Their fluid was collected in one large cup. After the cup was filled. The prayer leader collected it and came to us, unmarried women.

“Receive the Lord's essence.” He said to the first unmarried woman. She bowed her head and then drank from the cup. Then she said. “I have been given my Lord’s essence. Praise the Lord.”

When it was my turn, I drank, and it tasted a bit salty and weird, but it was the Lord’s essence, so I swallowed. I could see my parents' pride. I had received my first-ever Lord’s essence.

The prayer leader removed his wife from the chains, and with that, the service was finished. We all stood up and went outside the church.

I had trouble walking as most other unmarried women had. The metal-lined V had hurt our cunts a lot.

“It will get better. I cried the first time through the whole service. Now I can take it, but it still hurts. You will feel the Lords mercy for some days.” My friend said as we walked outside.

The married women walked with their arms locked through their husbands’, proudly showing off their husbands’ blessing on their faces.

Some women were shamed by the minimal fluid on their faces, while others, almost drenched, walked tall and proud.

Mother had a good amount and was happy. Then men walked with their dicks hanging limp. Showing that they had been satisfied by the suffering of the women.

Everyone started to chat with each other. This was the part of the church that was social, where people met people. Where men discussed trade and women gossiped.

I came over to my parents. My father put his hand on my head. “I bless you, my daughter. You suffered well. You pleased the Lord.” I inclined my head as was proper.

“Thank you, Father. I will do better. I promise.” My

Mother smiled at me and whispered. “It's ok. My first time wasn't easy either. Tonight I give you the cream to make it better. A proper cunt must not only suffer but heal, so it can suffer again.”

“Thank you, mother.” We stayed and talked, and sometimes an unmarried man would come up and talk to Father.

Father asked him questions, and once he allowed a young man to talk to me. It was strange but exciting. The young man asked me questions about my cooking and my skills would bring to a marriage. I answered truthfully, keeping my eyes lowered, which gave me a good look of his dick. It was strong and thick. A drop of the Lord's essence still hang on it.

After some more questions the young man put his hand between my cunt lips, feeling me. I looked panicked at Mother, but she just smiled and nodded. The young man withdrew his fingers and sniffed at them, then nodded and went back to my father. They kept on talking.

Mother came to me. “He seems to like you. Let's see. Maybe he will ask for your cunt in marriage, next harvest.” The she whispered. "He has a strong dick, it will be a blessing to you."

A smile formed on my lips. Married.

Silvia woke up and instantly wished she hadn’t. Her head throbbed like a jackhammer. She had never drunk so much in her life. Ever.

Last night was a bit of a blur. They had piled into Melissa’s car—she’d said she didn’t want to drink—and Helena had directed them to one of the trendy riverside bars.

The place had been stylish and sleek, with dim lighting and a quiet hum of conversation. Silvia felt out of place in her everyday clothes, nothing fancy, but neither were the others. Helena, of course, didn’t seem to care.

“You guys get us a round. I’ll grab us a table,” she’d said with a grin.

Alexandra had marched straight to the beleaguered bartender. The bartender practically tripped over himself to serve her, wagging an invisible tail like an eager dog. Alexandra somehow had that effect; it was strange, but fun. Moments later, Silvia and Melissa were weighed down with an assortment of cocktails and shots, while Alexandra carried only her long drink.

“Get used to it, Silvi,” Melissa had said, her tone amused. “As long as you’re not accredited, you’re worth nothing.”

“When do you get your accreditation?” Silvia had asked.

“Hopefully soon. We need 3 teams,” Alexandra had replied, taking a sip casually, while Silvia and Melissa tried not to spill the load of drinks they carried.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “I’m still studying for it. It’s not an easy test. You’ve got a practical and a theoretical section. You have to show you can do the work—perfectly.”

“You have to slaughter someone for your exam?” Silvia had asked, horrified.

“No! Absolutely not! That would be wrong on so many levels.” Melissa had laughed, then added, “I have to demonstrate that I could and showcase different techniques. You are not allowed to take a life before you can demonstrate that you can do it properly and as humanely as possible. But they don’t make it easy. Last year, someone had to debone an entire side of ribs while keeping the skin intact for tanning. It’s a nightmare of precision and patience.”

Silvia had tried to picture it but couldn’t quite wrap her head around the skill it would take.

“Took you long enough!” Helena had called, grinning as she waved them over to the table she’d snagged.

“To Silvia. My new assistant. Live large and bold!”

“Live large and bold!” shouted the others, and they downed the shot.

“OK, that’s it for me,” said Melissa, but it wasn’t. They were just getting started.

They drank, they danced, drank more, and had some finger food. Alexandra had somehow drawn in two chicks out of nowhere, and she was fooling around with them openly. Melissa had passed out and was snoring on the table. Helena was doing karaoke, or something that resembled singing. And Silvia was snogging that guy in the corner. His hands were down her jeans, her tongue deep in his mouth. She wanted to fuck, she needed to fuck. She needed to feel alive. She had never experienced such a need to fuck.

Silvia sat up in the big bed. The brightness irritated her, and her head hurt like nothing else. It took her a moment to realise she wasn’t even in her own bed, or even her own house, for that matter. She was in an apartment overlooking the city. She blinked against the brightness of the morning sun, and her brain felt like it was filled with jam. There was a warm body next to her, buried under the covers. Yeah, that’s right, she had made out with that guy, needing to fuck. Apparently, they had. Silvia was naked under the covers. Hmm. She couldn’t remember much, but her pussy and, to her surprise, her butthole felt a bit used.

Sucks. She had been too drunk to remember much. Her brain had stored some weird pictures that made no sense. Still, worth it. She felt alive, even if her head hurt.

“Oh, hi, you’re up. Headache tablet?” asked a naked, very well-built man entering the room. He was probably around 30, but he did look good enough for her taste. Silvia wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that was the same guy she had made out with. It didn’t matter. She had needed to get laid so desperately.

“Please.” Her voice was as sore as her head felt. Luckily, it was Saturday, and she didn’t need to go to work. That stopped her. The bitches had done it on purpose on a Friday. The fuck!

She shuddered as she thought about her near-death experience again. It had been that; she had given in, expecting to die, ready to die. Maybe that’s why she wanted sex. Maybe.

She looked at the naked guy who came around the bed to her and then to the covered body next to her. Hold on a second!

She pulled back the blanket, and a gorgeous, voluptuous blonde protested the intrusion and turned around to cuddle into her and keep on sleeping. Her boobs pressed into her arms, and her leg lay over hers.

That was not fair. She didn’t remember anything!

The man sat on her side of the bed and handed her a glass of water where a life-saving tablet was dissolving.

She drank it fully and let herself sink back onto the bed. The naked man slipped into the bed beside her and started to stroke her body. Yes, that would work for her too.

That led to a lot more and even woke up the blonde, who was eager to join.

This time, she made sure she remembered everything they did. Her near-death experience had made her aware that she had to live. Live large and bold. She would and did. To her surprise, she really liked anal. She felt so owned as the guy fucked her butt while she ate out the blonde.

She had sent her dad a message that she was OK and would be home later. No need to worry him.

They played a bit more, but slowly, they wound down, exhausted. Silvia left them in the afternoon and made her way back to the facility to pick up her car. She didn’t even know their names, nor did they know hers. She had never done anything like that before, but she felt so alive.

She touched the Shut... up! sticker. “Hi, Nancy. Guess what I just did? You would be so proud of me,” she said softly, starting to tell her still best girlfriend what she had experienced.

When she arrived home, her father saw her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with a grin. “But it was good. You should get out there again, too. There are plenty of single women.”

He rolled his eyes but then tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know what? You’re right. I should. Maybe give me her number?” He smirked and pointed at her neck.

Silvia glanced in the mirror. There was a red lipstick mark next to some hickeys. She vividly remembered how they got there—the blonde had been in her late twenties, but damn, she had been hot.

“Sorry, Dad,” Silvia said, turning a bit red and placing her hand over the marks.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re old enough, and you’ve got a job. I need to get with the facts of life. I’m happy your boss—Helena, right?—had the sense to call me to let me know you wouldn’t be home last night. Then she called again later to say you wouldn’t be coming home at all. She sounded pretty wasted and... well, she was pretty drunk, I guess.” Her dad turned a bit red. What was that about?

“Yeah. We really drank a lot. Talking about the job... have a look at this.”

Silvia pulled out her knife from her backpack and showed it to him. He was about to reach for it, but she stopped him. “Sorry. No,” she said firmly, holding it out of his reach. “Nobody but the butcher touches their knife’s handle. It’s a thing. They gifted it to me yesterday after…”

She trailed off, not wanting to tell him she had almost been slaughtered. The memory still made her uneasy. She had totally given up her life in that moment, completely letting go, accepting death. Maybe that was the point—you can’t take a life without accepting your own death? She shook her head, trying to focus on the here and now.

“Anyway, I’m now a proper Girl Butcher. Maybe just an apprentice, but I’m not nothing anymore.”

Her father’s face filled with horror for a second. She could see he had tons of questions—questions he wanted to ask, but wouldn’t, questions she didn’t want to answer, and questions that shouldn’t be asked. But she could guess what he was hung up on.

“No, Dad, I haven’t slaughtered anyone. I won’t—not until I’m accredited, and that’s still a long way off.”

Relief flooded his face. He exhaled and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s hard for me to know that you will... slaughter women. But I understand why you do it, and as hard as it is... you’re right. I’m proud of you.”

Silvia’s stomach twisted. She had wanted to hear him say that before she’d been slaughtered. She had wanted to hear that he loved her.

She stepped forward and into his arms. Tears slid down her cheeks as she held him tightly.

“Are you okay? What happened? Something major has happened, and it can’t just be a night of debauchery,” he said gently.

She shook her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was too personal.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just had some major realisations, and I need time to process them.”

After a while of him holding her, she disentangled herself and wiped her face. “Dad... let’s go to the coffee shop on the beach. I want to know how you’re doing. Can we?”

He smiled happily. “That sounds like a great idea... after you take a proper shower and put on fresh clothes. It must have been quite a night... and morning.”

She smirked and went upstairs.

They spent a pleasant afternoon at the coffee shop, talking and catching up. She realised she hadn’t really focused on how her dad was doing lately—she’d been too caught up in her own issues. Living large and bold also meant caring about the other people in her life.

Sunday, Silvia spent at the beach, relaxing and doing nothing. Alone. She had a good cry as she told Nancy about her near-death experience. It felt good to let it out. It still gnawed at her, but one thing she now understood was that these women felt nothing but bliss in their final moments. She had been there. She had been cut, but she had felt nothing except the overwhelming pleasure of her orgasm.

Putting everything into words and speaking them out loud helped her let go of some of the fear and tension. But it also made her realise she needed to make new friends. Nancy was gone, and she had to let her go.

When Monday came, Helena took Silvia aside as soon as she arrived. “Today, we have something special for you. Come.”

“I’m not going to be fake slaughtered again, am I?” Silvia asked, amused.

“No. And that’s nothing to joke about. The next time will be the real deal—if you ever get your Letter.” Helena’s tone was back to its usual clipped precision. Silvia gulped.

They entered Slaughter Room 2. Alexandra, Melissa, Anne and Ramona, who were normally only doing the front of house and never in the slaughter rooms, were already waiting. The bench and spreader bar were set up in the slaughter room, not in their usual place in the prep area. Silvia stopped short. What was going on?

Melissa handed her a vibrator wand, and Silvia stared at it, confused.

“There are things you can’t learn from books, and you can’t fully learn on the job either,” Helena explained. “One of those is how to bring a woman to orgasm with a vibrator while she is in the spreader bar and stressed.”

Silvia blinked at her, stunned. “Wait—what?”

“We all volunteered to help you learn.” Helena’s tone was matter-of-fact. “You owe us real coffee from the good shop, by the way. Two sugars.”

“I do?” Silvia asked, still perplexed. Silvia wasn’t sure why this was something she needed to learn. She managed fine with her own vibrator.

“Yes, you do. Now, let’s begin.” Helena started stripping. “I’ll go first. So it’s definitely awkward for you. Strap me in.” She lay down on the bench, naked, as Melissa and Alexandra strapped her feet into the spreader bar.

Silvia could only manage an awkward, “Uhh…” This was way more than she’d bargained for. Sure, they’d all seen each other naked in the locker rooms and showers, but this? Making her colleagues cum in front of each other?

“It’s fine, Silvia,” Melissa said, noticing her hesitation, while they strapped Helena into the spreader bar. “We all had to learn this. Every good Girl Butcher does. You can’t just wing it with livestock. They need to feel safe and cared for, and the best way to learn is hands-on. Someday, you’ll be teaching the same lesson to another apprentice.”

Silvia glanced at Helena’s pussy, now at eye level, her legs spread wide. Shut… up! Yes, Nancy, I hear you.

“Silvia, hurry up. I want a coffee, and it’s getting cold,” Anne complained, already starting to strip.

“Well, maybe you should have waited your turn before getting naked. You and your eager beaver,” Ramona teased.

Silvia took a deep breath and turned the vibrator on. She placed it on Helena’s pussy.

“Too hard, too fast,” Helena chided. “Dial the power down, put it under the clit, and then push it slowly upward… yes, like that. Now increase the power gradually. Better.”

Helena gave instructions as Silvia worked, explaining how and why to adjust her movements. Then Helena came, her body trembling in the straps. But even in her orgasm, Helena still gave instructions.

The other women clapped when Helena had calmed down again.

“You thought it would be easy, didn’t you?” Helena commented as Melissa and Alexandra helped her down. “But here’s the point: you’ll know these women for only a few minutes. It’s your job to make them relax and feel good.”

“I’m next! I’m freezing,” Anne announced, and this time Helena made Silvia help Melissa strap Anne in. She had to learn that too.

Anne’s body reacted differently from Helena’s, and her cues were more subtle. Silvia hadn’t been with many women, and never in a situation like this. With past lovers, there had been kissing, foreplay—everything was slower, more intimate. This was different. As she worked, she remembered how it had felt being strapped in herself, waiting to die.

Alexandra and Helena offered tips as Silvia experimented. Anne came shortly after, sighing with satisfaction. “Thanks, Silvi. I’ll grab coffee for everyone. Your treat, of course!” she said with a wink as she started dressing.

The training session became more fascinating. Each woman responded differently—pussy shapes, sensitivities, and preferences varied wildly. All of them reacted well to stroking on the insides of their thighs, but others responded to teasing their entrance or stimulating the G-spot. Even in this relatively relaxed setting, figuring out what worked for each woman was a challenge. Silvia couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be with terrified livestock.

What really shocked Silvia was how intensely aroused she became as she worked on Alexandra. It was... as if she felt what Alexandra was feeling. Alexandra came loudly, excessively, and unapologetically. Silvia had to concentrate not to be swept away with her. It was almost like a physical pull emanating from her. After switching off the vibrator, Silvia noticed she wasn’t the only one affected by it. Maybe Helena less so; she just rolled her eyes.

After Silvia had worked on each woman twice, Helena called a halt.

“Oh, come on, one more time,” Ramona pleaded. “I don’t even have a boyfriend right now!”

“Fine,” Helena relented. “Strap her in.”

As Ramona was winched up, Helena smirked. “This time, Silvia, try to keep her right on the edge as long as possible. That’ll teach you how to read her better.”

Ramona squirmed in the spreader bar. “That’s not fair!”

“True. Silvia, get a hook and tie her arms up.”

Silvia hesitated. “Helena, she doesn’t—”

“Sure she does,” Helena interrupted, patting Ramona’s leg. “She loves to complain, but she volunteered, and she knows the rules.”

Melissa chuckled as Silvia learned how to insert the butt hook gently. Tying Ramona’s arms was harder—Ramona wasn’t making it easy.

“Think of her as a frightened woman,” Melissa suggested.

“I AM a frightened woman!” Ramona shot back, her protests laced with a giggle.

Eventually, Silvia managed to secure her arms without being forceful. Keeping Ramona just shy of orgasm proved harder than she’d expected. It took teamwork, with the others giving pointers while Ramona writhed and moaned in frustrated desperation. Silvia had never played a game like that. It was funny to keep her high and dry, but also pretty hard to judge her reactions so she didn’t cum.

“Okay, now let her cum,” Helena instructed. Silvia adjusted the vibrator and slid a finger inside Ramona, and she came instantly—hard, loud, and long.

Ramona hung limp, panting, her face flushed.

“Alright, enough,” Helena said. “We have livestock coming. Anne, get Ramona in the shower. Silvia, help clean this up.”

As they prepared the room, Helena turned to Silvia. “So? Do you think you can do it for real? Make it good for a woman?”

“Do you think I’m ready? If I can’t make her cum... I don’t want her to suffer.”

“I’m your mentor. If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t ask. But you have to feel that you can do it. There can’t be doubt. The livestock needs to feel safe.”

Silvia paused, considering everything she’d just learnt and what she herself had gone through. And now she understood more why this cruel ritual they had put her through was more for all the other women she would encounter than for her. “Yes. Every woman is different, I understand that now, and I understand how it works.”

Helena nodded, satisfied. “I will guide you. You got this.”

Thirty minutes later, Silvia stood beside Helena as Anne brought in Margaret, their first woman of the day. Her first woman. Her first slaughter as a Girl Butcher assistant.

Silvia was nervous; she didn’t want to mess it up for Margaret; she needed to give her best. Make her cum, make her forget, give her peace.

They said hello and Silvia could see how nervous she was. Breathing flat and fast.

Helena scanned her chip, and Silvia made sure she heard the right happy beep sound and saw the green light on the secure tablet that held the information for Margaret.

Silvia helped her onto the bench. Margaret was fearful but cooperative. Helena was extremely gentle, stroking her, and speaking to her softly. Silvia needed to learn that too, she realised, and paid a lot of attention to how Helena did it, but she paid the most attention to Margaret. She deserved it. She gave her life so others didn’t have to.

“So Silvia will now put a metal hook into your butt. That won’t hurt at all, and you are super clean there too. You may even like it. Silvia does, right?”

“Oh, that’s true. I like it a lot, actually. Didn’t know before I tried it.” She didn’t know how Helena knew but suspected that she was just making things up.

Silvia took a deep breath, took some of the pre-warmed lube from the dispenser, and smeared it around Margaret’s butthole slowly and carefully. Then she used her finger to open her sphincter slowly, as Alexandra had shown her in the morning, and inserted the hook.

“All good. I bet it didn’t hurt. Did it?” Helena asked, kneeling next to Margaret’s head, and Margaret shook her head. That already told Silvia that Margaret liked things in her. She was astounded at herself that she had picked that up. But now she understood why Helena had asked so many volunteers.

“Margaret, I’m going to hold your arms now so I can put them up here. It's easier for you that way,” Silvia said, and Margaret cooperated with her. She tied her hands carefully up to the hook.

“So, Margaret, we are ready to go. Let’s get you to the other room, and then it will be over very fast.”

“Please make it painless. Please. I’m...”

“I know you are afraid, but I promise you, you won’t feel a thing. Both of us know from personal experience that you will feel nothing.”

“Personal experience?” Margaret asked, her fear forgotten for a moment.

Helena just smiled and said, “Yes,” and let her ponder. Silvia could see what she was doing; she was distracting her a bit. Helena gave her a sign to open the connector door to Slaughter Room 1, and they moved her out.

Helena knelt down and stroked her cheeks. “We begin now. OK?” She didn’t really wait for the answer. Helena stared at Silvia, lifting her eyebrow. Fuck! The gut bucket. She wanted to rush to get it, but Helena gave her a look, and she didn’t. Slow and purposeful, move slow and purposeful. Fast moves scare the livestock.

Silvia placed the bucket in front of Margaret, and her eyes widened, her breathing going faster. Silvia needed to go to the cabinet to get Helena’s knife and the wand. As she had learned, she passed the knife behind Margaret so she didn’t see it. She made sure she touched only the heavy plastic sheath, not the handle of the blade. You never do that, ever.

“Silvia will now put the vibrator on your clit and will make you cum. When you orgasm, I will slit your throat, but you won’t even notice. Then you will slip away peacefully, having the best orgasm you ever had.”

That was it. She needed to make it good, make her cum, make her forget. She breathed through it and switched on the wand and was rewarded with a loud moan as she slowly hit the clit. She put one finger on her entrance, and she could feel her reaction; she liked it. Margaret built fast, and Silvia concentrated on her. Stroking her inner legs, playing with her entrance, and building her up to an orgasm.

She could feel how Margaret slowly relaxed into it, and finally, she let go of the brakes and gave in. Silvia understood that very well; she had fought it, too. Trying to stay alive as long as possible, but then ultimately giving in to the pleasure.

Margaret’s body shuddered as she came, and her blood spilled into the container. Silvia didn’t need to hear Helena say to keep the vibrator on her; she would have done it automatically. Let her ride out the last waves of her orgasm and her life. Silvia gave her the same care, and maybe even better than she would have wanted for herself. After checking the tablet that was still connected to her birth chip, Helena announced her gone. Something else she hadn’t seen in Clapton South.

Silvia switched off the vibrator, and Helena stood up. “Thank you, Margaret,” Silvia whispered to the dead body.

“Are you OK?” asked Helena carefully, putting a hand on her arm.

“Yes, I think so,” Silvia said. She took a deep breath and then said, “I think I did it well for her. I really hope so.”

“You did a good job. The more you do it, the better you get. Now...” Helena moved around the dead body. “... point out to me the insertion and exit points for the gutting cuts.”

Silvia traced her finger on the still-warm body, indicating the cut. She knew that the body itself would still work for some minutes until it realised it was dead, but it already felt... empty.

“Good. Stay back.” She did, and Helena made the cuts. Then she talked Silvia through the gutting, the removal of the organs, and finally, the removal of the head. It was fast but precise and respectful—not like in the Centre. These weren’t crude cuts. Helena cut for quality, not speed.

“OK. Move the carcass into cold storage and put the head in the incinerator. I’ll get changed, and we will meet in Slaughter Room 2 in less than two minutes. We don’t want to let her wait too long. Don’t forget to clean up. Dirty aprons, or worse, bloodstained ones, only stress out the livestock.”

Silvia understood that and hurried to move the body and dispose of the head. She thought she would have been much more nervous about her first slaughter, but she had to concentrate on Margaret to make it good for her. She had forgotten to be nervous.

Jill was next, all businesslike. She had even asked just to cut her throat and be done with it, but she enjoyed the orgasm. She even screamed out, “I never... oh... my! Oh...” but then her throat was cut, and no words came out anymore.

Helena had her talk through the whole gutting process and then move the second carcass into the cold storage.

She met Melissa in the cold storage as she brought in her carcass. “How did it go?”

“Very good, I think. They all managed to come, but I needed the finger technique you showed me on the first one. Thanks for that.”

“Sure, let’s get them cold, and then we should have lunch. You coming?”

Silvia hesitated. She had never been invited to lunch before.