Chapter 47: The Wedding

"What do you mean, you seen him? Where? When? How'd he look?"

Julie had to laugh at Martha's bombardment of questions. "At the hospital, silly!" She couldn't help but laugh, making her voice several octaves higher than normal. "The last I'd seen, he was headed for the psychiatric ward." The memory of the now sober Hank, sporting a bandage over his less manly crotch, caused Julie to break out in another fit of laughter.

"His friend, the puny Brucey was with him, walking alongside the wheelchair." A pause for more laughter. "They didn't recognize me, too bloody drunk that night, to be able to remember much of anything." More laughter...

Martha, growing impatient with the slow, and oft interrupted telling of the story of their cockless drunk, spawned her into action. Martha pushed herself up off the floor and dove at her friend, the most horrible of narrators -- Julie and, upon forcing the blonde to the floor, planted a kiss firmly on her laughing mouth. After a long, soft interlude, Martha raised her head away from Julie and spoke teasingly to her friend. "Julie's, if you don't get on with the telling of your day, I'm going to bind and gag you and put you through so much tickling, you'll be begging to be thrown at the mercy of the psych ward and all its' crazed inhabitants."

Julie burst out in a fresh bout of laughter, pulled Martha's nut-brown face down to her own and planted a kiss of her own on the other's lips. "You go right ahead and try! And remember, if you do try to torture me, or gag me or whatever -- you'll never hear the end of my story."

"Oh damn!" Martha spat in mock irritation. She stood, straightening her short skirt as she did so. "Tell your story, then."

"You and your silly attempts at being stern..." Julie grinned. "Anyway,..." She continued, unabashed. "Rumour has it -- and you know at the hospital it's more fact than rumour -- that he'll be sold at auction as a eunuch slave. Seems, he doesn't have a job and no slave of his own to care for him." Julie cocked her head slightly, looking very serious for the moment. "As a matter of fact, he seems to be a foreigner. He thought the idea of slavery a bit ridiculous and archaic. Both of them -- Brucey and Hank, seemed to be strangers around here, neither one fully understanding the concept of male dominance. Rather quaint, isn't it? The very idea..." She trailed off, leaving the chain of her thoughts apparent for Martha to follow.

"If they don't know about... ?" Martha shook her head, confused. "I don't understand. How can they not know that females are under the power of men? Where have those two been hiding all these years?"

Julie sat up from her prone position -- where Martha had left her, after her abrupt dive -- and looked herself over in her reflection in the mirror across the room. "It's odd, isn't it... to think that there are people who'd never known that male dominance exists. That females are slaves, and even some males are slaves, also. The very idea... Martha, what kind of society would they live in then?" Julie's voice rose an octave higher again, but this time, not in laughter but in wonderment.

Martha sat down on the floor next to Julie and also stared at herself -- and Julie's -- in the mirrored reflection. "I don't know. A society of equals? Or perhaps a society where women rule?" Martha smiled slyly, likening that idea. "The Black Widows like to be in control -- they are all females."

"That reminds me," Julie spoke up again and by the tone of her voice, Martha knew her friend was about to change subjects again.

"Dad says that there's been an explosion at the Cunningham compound. That's the name of the man that had purchased Jenny Patterson at the slave auction. Anyway, they say that the Black Widows are doing it. And guess what?" Julie seemed to be on a roll with the news today, Martha noted.

"There's another group -- males, I guess, that are acting odd."

Martha looked at her friend, waiting to hear more. "... And?" She prompted.

Julie shrugged. "And nothing. It just occurred to me that these men... odd as they are, they remind me of Brucey and Hank. Except of course, those two seem to have no idea of slavery and such. These men, they..."

"Which men... ?" Martha interrupted.

Julie looked flabbergasted. "The odd men. They... The talk around town is that these odd men, a small group of them, are acting differently than the men that we are accustomed to -- they apparently are making females feel like scum."

"Julie, that doesn't make sense. Most men treat women as scum already. Why should these men be treated any different?"

"Maybe there'll be something in the news about them -- soon. It's hard to explain, but made sense when I first heard the story of them."

Martha nodded in agreement. "Okay, we wait on that story to clarify the difference between these odd men and the men that we grew up with."

A silence fell over the room...

"Martha... ?"

"Julie, don't. I don't want to think about it." Julie was, of course, about to bring up Martha's own situation about a future owner. "Let's just say that the men are working out the details of retraining and let the topic stand as such -- until I'm used to the idea."

Julie jumped up from the floor. "You know what we need... ?"

Martha looked at her sceptically, a ring of familiarity in the question. "What?"

Julie smiled broadly. "We need a night out on the town!"

"Oh my! Girl, are you nuts? Did you already forget what happened the last time we had a night out on the town?" Martha rolled her eyes to the back of her head, in feigned exasperation.

Julie sighed audibly. "You're right. That was an awful night. But that doesn't mean it'll happen again!"

"I'll tell you what; Why don't we go to your Dad, see what he suggests for us to do for a relaxing evening out?" Julie smiled, liking the compromise.

"Where'd you say he was taking us?" Martha asked Julie for the second time this evening.

"He didn't say, only that we'd have fun and that it'd be good practice -- whatever that means -- and to dress nicely." Julie struggled into her black fishnet stockings. Tonight, the girls decided that neon was out -- since they'd worn it the evening they'd had their troubles -- the night Hank and Brucey demonstrated their own version of knife play.

"Julie, I just thought of something. That night... When we left Brucey and Hank, one had a knife left in his ass. What ever happened with that?"

Julie's eyes lit up with laughter. "That was Brucey that had the knife in his ass. Hank's had been removed in order to cut off his cock. Anyway, the knife ripped up the walls of the anus pretty good, I'd heard. The doctors were able to repair most of it, but from what I gathered, he'll never have another problem with constipation -- or any future need for enemas."

"What does that mean?" Martha asked.

Julie smiled. "Poor Brucey's backdoor was cut so much, it's been enlarged. It's no longer a pucker hole as everyone else has. Let's just say that Brucey now has an open door policy." And with that, she broke out laughing.

They quickly finished dressing. Julie wore black stockings and a matching short blouse, and black heels. Martha, contrasting her light-skinned friend, wore white stockings, a matching short blouse and white heels. The girls enjoyed being opposites and took advantage of it every chance they got -- and their manner of dress was always a good opportunity.

The sedan pulled up to the kerbside door. The trunk flew open and the girls were assisted out by the doorman. "Tonight, you are ladies, behave as such."

The statement was rather confusing for the two girls who'd been taught to be as slutty as possible. Julie's Dad came around to join the girls. "I want you girls to behave. You don't have to do anything for the first part of the evening, just watch and learn."

They entered the club, the girls surprised and a bit put off by the fact that they were permitted to enter through the main doors, rather than ordered to a back alley door. They were entranced, intrigued and a bit overwhelmed by the events thus far.

A man dressed in a tuxedo approached the party of three. The newcomer looked at the girls, or more like, down at the girls, for he looked every bit the snob. "Mr. Browning, this way please." The girls began to follow, as instructed by Mr. Browning. The snob in the tuxedo turned and halted the progression. "I said for Mr. Browning to follow -- not you two -- uh... whores."

Mr. Browning stepped forward. "These ladies are with me tonight -- here to observe and learn." The tone in his voice was enough to indicate that he wasn't to be questioned, or argued with, about the girl's presence. Suddenly, the two girls felt very important -- and even more uncomfortable.

They were directed through a huge ornately designed arch. The girls tried to look everywhere at once, trying to take in all the sights, sounds and decorations of the room. There were people all over the place, most of them crammed into a high-ceilinged room. Almost all were male and all were dressed in their best outfits. Martha noted that the few women that were present, had the air of dominance and so, didn't feel or look, out of place here. This intrigued her even more, for if the other women here were dominant, then why were they, Martha and Julie present? They were, by no means, dominant, merely submissive -- above slaves, but still much lower than the dominating males.

"Let's sit here, Ladies." Mr. Browning said in a lowered voice, directing them to a row of chairs. "I want for you both to have good seats." The chairs were placed in rows, forcing everyone who sat down, to look to one end of the room. At the front of the room, was a table, placed high and candles all around -- hanging from sconces on the walls and placed tastefully on the main table and upon smaller tables. There was even an ornate rack and, to the girls confusion, small partitioned areas with straw on the floor. Even now, Martha could pick up a hint of the sweet smelling straw.

The girls sat, not sure if they were having fun yet, but enjoying the scene around them anyway. There was a bustling of noise from the back of the room followed by a hum and rustling sound as everyone moved to take their seats. Music started up, forceful yet, heart-warming. An odd mixture and Martha whispered as such to Julie.

"Don't talk, Martha, just watch." Mr. Browning's words came in barely a whisper to her own ears. She sat quietly, obediently and watched, with everyone else as two pairs of pony girls came marching in unison down the aisle. The ponies were all blondes, not one an imitation blonde and all were svelte and of equal height. Their bridles were bright red and each pony had a feather sitting statuesque upon their heads. These ponies were dressed up for a very special occasion, that much was obvious to the two girls.

As they watched, the ponies approached and now Martha and Julie could see the full extent of their gear. It was all gold studded, red velvet and even the bits in their mouths looked to be solid gold.

"It's fake gold, but very good imitation." Came Mr. Browning's oration of the bridle gear. Martha looked at him, full of questions but refrained from asking any, until given the opportunity she knew would come later.

Martha looked back to the ponies as they pranced by then looked back at Mr. Browning. He smiled at her and then stared openly at the pretty tails placed, with the aid of plugs, firmly in their asses. The tails, Martha saw, even had red velvet bows in them. Yes, she thought, these ponies were extravagant and beautiful. Soon they reached the front of the room where handlers removed the specially made velvet tack from the girls and led each, in turn, to a stall. Each was given a bucket of feed, placed up to their faces and held in place by strips of leather. Their harnesses were removed and each girl was attached to leather leads that were strung to their breasts on one end and the ends of each attached to hooks in the walls of their respective stalls.