The Investigative Reporter 11: Contract Negotiations

Part 11: Contract Negotiations

"I think ten will do for now, I hardly think this will be a onetime occurrence" J.M. told Beth.

"I am yours to command ma'am." Beth offered both knowing, and not knowing what was to come. She had to reluctantly admit to herself that it was at least a thrill to be once again under the control of a worthy taskmaster, the editor falling short in several ways, the fool apparently not knowing what potentially lay within his grasp.

J.M. opened Beth's locked stall door with her keys and invited her out, telling her to get on her toes and grab the bars as high as she could, her ever ready crop under her arm just in case Beth thought to resist. With her petite body stretched out and facing away from J.M. Beth didn't know what to expect, other than by the examples J.M. had already set, whatever punishment this ponygirl trainer thought to apply would probably be swift. Her wrists were lashed to the bars with her leather cuffs that were ordinarily part of her tack, and thusly bound she wasn't going anywhere until released. Likewise J.M. fitted Beth's bitted harness after she was in position, driving the bit deep and folding in the blinkers that Beth had allowed herself to forget about. The blinkers she thought were just there for appearance sake, and while some light crept by them, she couldn't actually see what was coming.

Beth reminded herself that she had yet to receive any "real" lashes with a strap, she suddenly feeling much less than confident in her helpless state, but she also knew she had asked for this. It was to her like the time between when one jumps off of a tall dock to swim in a cold lake, but has yet to break the surface of the cold water for that first swim of the season. There was no strap in the barn either, at least not one she had seen as of yet, but Beth had little doubt that J.M. could improvise with the best of them when necessary.

This time it was to be the crop though, and the ten blows landed on Beth's taunt butt almost anticlimactically, she not uttering anything but a grunt past her bit and clenched teeth on J.M.'s warning that any more speaking would only add more. The crop could have left some rather nasty welts, most especially in the senior author's firm hand, but she had employed it instead as near foreplay between lovers, Beth however had the good sense not to comment on it's lack of severity.

"Playful swats for playful misbehavior, this one time", J.M. explained softly from behind Beth, "but don't expect such charity next time as I'm in an infectiously cheerful mood at the moment. Remember you did ask for this, and also remember our agreement, you must live fully it in order to tell it later".

"I must confess my little ponygirl that I haven't been this excited about a racing season since I was pulling a sulky myself," J.M. confided as she paced around the barn behind the displayed Beth. "I guarantee you this, you might not even show in the big races, but you WILL give whoever I place in your cart one hundred percent of what you have to give, and you will be amazed at what you can be motivated to do. Likewise there can be no special treatment for you from here on in, for this to work you must be just another ponygirl not only at the races, but at my facility. You must blend into the background as much as possible despite your slight stature, all while you collect material for your book, but rather conspicuous I would think to our friend at the actual races for my plan to come to fruition."

No intelligible response from the bitted Beth was possible, and she remained on display with her arms over her head and stretched out thinking about what she had gotten herself into. She had at least managed to step up blindly on the bottom bar of the door lessening the strain on her arms slightly, the trade off however was the door being free to swing on it's hinges, the weight of her body setting it off balance and in motion. It fell fully open as she went along for the blindfolded and noisy ride, her little body pinned between the cold iron bars of the door of the next cell over and her own with a crash while J.M. looked on smiling.

"It appears that my strap and you are going to get well acquainted, once I have you settled into your new home my little fugitive!" J.M offered with a laugh.

*******

The editor walked in to take in the scene just after J.M.'s words, as if he had been listening at the door and didn't want to intrude. Beth's fine body was pinned on display before him as if from one of his dreams, dreams that his young employee had a habit of intruding on more than once. He knew however that he had to put that aside for the time being for his own interests. Compassion, he thought erroneously, most especially for ones subordinates, was the enemy of successful men everywhere, as could be lust he was beginning to realize.

"Well", the editor asked, "will you do it?" The question not directed as Beth though, but at J.M., Beth's commitment a known thing since her foolish escape and therefore not in question. It was easy for the editor to objectify Beth at the moment, she looking like little more than a living display at a medieval Germanic museum, strung up and caged in her near nudity to be examined by the passing patrons thankful they lived in the modern age.

"I find this little ponygirl amusing for no reason that I can explain Jim, and while I also find her a challenge, I fail to see the advantage from my point of view of training her for another at my ranch."

"You won't do it then? I thought you were interested in helping to train her properly for motivational purposes, or at the very least to help focus her for our book?" the editor asked, but respectfully.

"Jim, for reasons that are my own I am willing to train her up, but there is little for me to gain monetarily as she is unlikely to win any of the big races. In the grand scheme of things she represents far more risk than potential reward, but I wish to enter her in some of the races wearing my brand to send a little message of my own to somebody. If she runs well, so much the better, but the costs of training and feeding, not to mention boarding her in place of another ponygirl that could actually turn a profit add up rather quickly."

"What of the barn you had me construct then?" the editor asked, Beth listening to the two squabble, and knowing the editor was being harshly bartered with.

"At that point you had not been entirely honest with me, and had I known you were harboring a one hundred pound fugitive I could have saved you some money. Truth be told she represents an even greater liability to you here than if she were to stay with me as my ranch is quite private. I could still turn both of you in you know."

It was clear to the listening and still displayed Beth that the editor was being outmaneuvered, and that he was losing his patience and had little regard for J.M.'s nuanced words. "What do you propose?" he finally asked in irritation.

"There are ordinarily two ways girls come into my possession to become ponygirls. One is through direct contractual purchase, that is I purchase the girls freedom directly from them for a specified period of time in exchange for a kind of dowry sum to be given to them later after their career has run it's course, if you'll pardon the pun. On top of this I gift a percentage of their winnings as a surprise bonus at the conclusion of their contracts".

"In the business we call that one a standard three three three. Three seasons, or three top three finishes, whichever comes first. In either event the girls are released from their obligation and rehabilitated at that time if contracted with a ranch such as mine, however some of the less honorable outfits will continue to run their girls in technical violation of their racing contracts until no more profit can be wrung from their battered bodies, they being little more than broken beasts by that time and having no concept of time, nor little choice. It's rather tragic, but we see it more and more these days, those poor things not likely to ever return to human society as their minds become scrambled".

"The second way a girl comes into my possession is through a broker, usually a husband, but there are exceptions. A husband may broker his wife into racing if young and healthy enough to earn some cash, or just to get rid of her if he wishes to find another more desirable one to take her place. Before you judge me in this you have to realize that it is common practice among some city elites to have a troublesome wife committed to an asylum, freeing her husband to find another while he looks magnanimous to his elite friends for taking care of such things 'discreetly'. It's purported to be quite easy to do, usually just the word of the well connected society man is enough to get the troublesome wife committed, and once striped and strapped to a bed for a few days surrounded by lunatics, not to mention men with less than honorable intentions, who would know the difference?"

"What I offer ironically enough is positively humane by comparison, but there is a catch to the traditional three's contract, the last three if you will. Three last place finishes and a ponygirls contract can be legally bought out by another team. The theory being that if a ponygirl can't perform for her trainers she is best allowed to be relocated by force for her own best interest, but sometimes it doesn't play out that way. In either event, since Beth here obviously isn't a free woman, I will need to barter with you for her possession as she and I have come to an understanding, you in effect becoming her broker for these purposes if you still seek success with your book project."

The editor had a smile on his face, his irritation of earlier all but forgotten. J.M. was a student of both human and ponygirl behavior and failed to miss this, but the reasons for his sudden change of mood not so simple to deduce. Was he feeling relieved knowing the path was clear to not only write the scandalous conclusion to the book, but to be rid of Beth for a time and the liability she presented to him? Could he likewise expect to be eventually returned a docile and submissive pet with which to play with to his hearts content after the authorities stopped seriously looking for her? Or could he simply be happy that Beth and she had come to an understanding, freeing his conscience on the entire matter, (as if he had one) J.M. thought to herself rather hypocritically?

The editor had always found Beth's earlier haughty refusals and well dressed form highly provocative, certainly when he had perceived her as a near equal, and while he still found her body just as desirable as any man would pinned to the bars in front of him as it was, his desire was not so great anymore that he HAD to give in to temptation physically with her. He might still like to, but publishing an award winning work first was the priority for him now, Beth just the pony to make that happen he thought to himself with a silent laugh. As a bonus, the man thought, if things went poorly he could deny all involvement, and be spared watching the authorities take her away, or more importantly him away.

The reason for the editor's smile had little to do with Beth and her imminent racing career though, but rather what could be done with his own "troublesome" wife rather than endure a costly and scandalous divorce, should things develop as they might once she returned with her traveling companion.

"It sounds to me as if your asking me to pay a fee of some kind for you to take her off of my hands, to defer the costs of ownership, and your training program obviously," the editor offered in smiling concession so as not to sound rude, he finally catching up with J.M.'s train of thought. "And in exchange for your expertise in this matter, both your racing expertise, and your skills as a published author of a complementary work, I am to pay a premium for this training and mentoring even though she will become your possession?"

Beth was listening blindly to the discussion of her fate as she hung in her bonds, but feeling much as she had in the police station what felt like a lifetime ago. She was an object, a thing to be used, bought, and sold by those in a position over her, and the thought drove her mad in contradiction to all reason. She had agreed to cooperate with J.M. in exchange for help with her book and to stay out of prison, and of course to right a wrong on behalf of some of her fellow Grandview inmates, but this was the first mention of a potential three year commitment to J.M. In all fairness, Beth thought, it was probably rather clearly outlined in the book she had refused. Still Beth held out hope that the three years was just a threat, and that her time in harness would be much shorter.

J.M. was worried that she had insulted her host earlier, she held all the cards this time and could sense the power she held over him, but there would be a next time with this big city powerful man, he not to be taken lightly. His last comment seemed to contradict that concern though, as if he were offering her perfectly logical reasons for her to ask for a hansom fee for her unique services.

"I have a number in my head," the editor offered, he obviously in some hurry to finish the negotiations and put this matter behind him. "While in my employ I paid her the generous sum of thirty seven dollars a week, and have continued to do so even while on this failed assignment. I should have terminated her employment for lying to me about her qualifications, and I may have even told her I had when forced to clean out her apartment, but I have banked that wage every week for her anyway for sentimental reasons".

"I suspect that when your done bulking her up for her racing career that she will no longer fit into her fine clothes anyway. Why don't I sell those off while they're still in style, and her other things as well, and whatever I make I will use to defer my own losses. Furthermore, for her weekly upkeep I will transfer her wage directly to you, as well as the funds I have banked in her name as she will likely have little use for money in the foreseeable future."

"That would be most generous Jim," J.M. offered. "As a practical matter possessions can't have possessions anyway, and none of my ponygirls own a thing until their careers are over. I find it keeps them motivated toward the goal of winning, or at the very least obedient. I even take their given names away from them for a time and replace it with a racing name, both to remind them of whom they belong, and to conceal their true identity should someone from their previous life come to watch a race."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Beth nearly screamed in her mind from her display on the door, but the truth of the matter was that they could, and would to achieve their own purposes. Beth finally realizing she was little more than an object to these two powerful humans to be used as they wish, one for profit, the other for revenge. She also knew now that she hadn't hit rock bottom just yet, despite thinking so when her editor had broken the news to her of his discovery of her misrepresentation to him, not to mention her toys that revealed so much about her past activities.

Beth now thought she could at least see the proverbial bottom though, the three's contract J.M. had alluded to sealing her fate should her editor complete the deal he likely thought her silence implied she wanted, if he even cared. It would give her plenty of time to collect all the material she could possibly need for her book though, she not even thinking she had a chance to win her way out of a three's racing contract early, and once again Beth wondered why she didn't just stay at Grandview...

"Do you have a standard three's contract with you?" the editor asked hopefully.

"Funny you should ask," J.M. said. "As a matter of fact I have several, one never knowing when one will discover some new talent on her travels. I do have some details to go over with you though."

"Such as?" the editor asked suspiciously.

"Restricted activities mostly, and a post racing career track to slowly rehabilitate the ponygirl and get her used to not wanting to run everywhere, when the time eventually comes of course. This assumes that you will eventually want her returned to you, and we can work out the details at that time. If not, I can always find her a good home as she's quite lovely."

"Restricted activities?" the editor asked curiously.

"Yes, sometimes we let our ponygirls play with other team's ponyboys when they get too randy to behave for them, they're neutered of course, and there is also a tradition of the last place finish ponygirl being tethered in a coral for the entertainment of the winning ponyboys after a big race. It represents both positive and negative reinforcement for all involved, and while the decision to allow such things rests with the brand owner of record, meaning myself, I respect the wishes of the mount in question, or in this case her broker. Other restrictions could be in the form of allowable punishments, as in no strapping, or cropping, neither restriction speeding a mounts training though."

"Oh, in that case no restrictions at all J.M. I trust you to do as you must to keep our book on track, any extraordinary activities such as you offer likely only adding to the books flair. Don't feel bad about any of that either, before she came into my employ she apparently had a rather robust flair of her own for such things, earning her way through school in rather creative ways I understand. On that subject, could you let my illustrator know when such things are likely to occur so he can capture them on paper just like his other fine sketches you have already seen? It may add some continuity to the project should she not be able to finish the book herself for whatever reason."

"I think the illustrator is a grand idea Jim, but he will have to be discreet. As far as feeling bad or good about such things, once my brand goes on her rump and she gets a new name she is little more than racing stock to me until her contract is complete, there is no other way to do it. If she hasn't realized this already she isn't as bright as I suspect she is, and I'll wager that at least a part of her finds this rather titillating, most girls do."

"Really?"

"Absolutely, she is going to have the time of her young life, that is a promise, and she will be wise beyond her years when I am done with her. Now lets leave her here so we can go in the house and get your name on that contract, and if you will then lend me your telephone I will call my truck driver to arrange transport."

"After the ink is dry I have a little tradition of my own for brokered sales if your interested," J.M. offered in a distinctively sultry voice that sounded so out of character to the displayed Beth, "but it would be wise to send your staff home early first as it could get quite rambunctious."

"Oh, really?"...

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01.07.15

story continues in The Investigative Reporter 12: Little Fugitive

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