One day I was packaged up in my crate and taken for a long ride. Perhaps because the ride was so long, they laid the crate on its side, and I was able to curl up in the straw. It was dim in there when they put me in, even dimmer when they closed the lid; I heard the bolts shoot home. I was wearing what I thought of as the basics: collar, cuffs and mitts, chastity belt and my usual light bridle and ball gag. My wrists were connected by a short chain, as were my ankles. The straw was rather hard on all my welts. I sighed around my bridle, and resigned myself to discomfort. I was, of course, very experienced at this.

The aircar landed. My master took me out and snapped a leash on my collar; I was blinking as my eyes adjusted to the light. I followed where he led, taking quick little steps because of the ankle hobble. And for a moment I thought I was looking in a mirror. There we were, big master leading small bridled slave - but no, her hair was too long and straight, she was wearing more harness, and that wasn't my master. Then I saw another woman on her knees, leashed to a post. More slaves! More Ranizens! Where was I? What was going on?

I hadn't seen another female in a very long time. My eyes widened as I took in the scene. There were about half a dozen slaves being harnessed or groomed or confined in some way. There were two kneeling at a trough and drinking. The pair that I had thought were mirror images walked toward me, and I saw that the man was one of the ones who had visited us most often. He greeted my master but kept walking, continuing to talk over his shoulder. His slave had long straight black hair, and the dark thick-fringed eyes of South Xanszey on Raniz. She was wearing leather boots and was in full harness. Her breasts were confined in concentric strips of red leather. She had nipple clips too, hung with little bells. Our eyes met for only a brief moment before her blinkers blocked her side vision. Sisters... Someone like me... Then I was flooded with a wave of embarrassment. I had forgotten that I wasn't the only slave on this planet. And I was shocked at seeing another female so debased, so objectified. Like me. I was used to it for myself, but it made me cringe to see someone else in the same position. Oh, no, the same as me; I realised what I looked like, what I was, and the shame flooded over me, red as the marks of my master's whip. I looked away, and then I looked back, fascinated. How beautiful she was! I hope I looked half as beautiful.

The sound of wheels made me turn my head. There were three little vehicles being pulled out of a nearby building by three harnessed slaves. They all had their arms fastened behind their backs, and reins controlling them. They wore a variety of harness, but all had belts of some sort around them, to which the vehicles' shafts were attached. Again, I felt like I was looking in a mirror, although I found myself examining their form with an appraising eye. Each of the drivers was low in the vehicle with his legs forward on footrests. Even so, they bulked huge in comparison to their tiny steeds. I was amazed all over again that I could pull anything so big myself, especially since I was particularly small and my master particularly large. There was a lot of joking and laughter, shouts of what sounded like encouragement and advice from the other men, who dispersed themselves along a track. My master went to the rail, still holding my leash. I strained to see beyond the big bodies to the race that had begun. I saw legs and wheels flash by, heard whips crack, and listened to cheering and groaning from the crowd, now augmented by a few new arrivals.

Garid harnessed up his woman with loving care, and backed her between the sulky shafts. He had every notch in place, each strap and band tense around her frame, making its mark on her flesh. His hand closed on the reins beneath her chin, and he tipped her head back and looked down between the blinkers into her eyes. She was motionless, waiting for his slightest signal, her eyes somehow conveying such devotion that he touched her cheek for a moment before he pulled the reins back over her head and sat down in the sulky. He looked at the beautiful little ass in front of him, bordered by straps and metal, bisected by a tail, and flicked it with his whip, simultaneously slapping her shoulders with the reins and clicking his tongue. She strained forward in the shafts, and he flicked her harder, once low on each buttock. He could see her flesh jump, but she held her motion steady as she gained momentum step by step. He guided her to the right toward the track.

Garid had been so intent on all this that he had forgotten the dozen or so men watching this new bit of livestock. Once he had her on the track he looked up to find a crowd around the sulky, commenting mostly favourably on his rig and turnout, and more than appreciatively on his pretty filly. Several were asking permission to feel her over. Garid got out and held her reins close before he would permit this.

'Is she skittish?'

'She's not used to it.'

'Another owner.' A laugh of self-recognition from the crowd. Garid felt his slave's tension through the reins as her tits and ass and legs were squeezed, her nipple bells flicked. Fingers slid along her harness, but were stopped by her chastity belt, to slight but perceptible grumbling.

'All right, let me try her paces.' Garid felt her tiny release of tension as the strange hands left her. He stroked one breast soothingly, and she let out a long breath. He relaxed a little also, climbed back into the seat, and got her moving once again.

This time he whipped her up to a trot rather quickly, her yelps of pain a pleasant accompaniment to the creak of harness and the jingle of bells. In the strange place, with all the fearful new stimulation, she forgot her training a little. Garid's stinging reminders soon had her lifting her knees and placing her feet with precision. Her mitts, held high on her back, twitched at each blow, but she kept her rhythm steady. As always, Garid was exhilarated by the sight of her running under such restraints, her confined shoulders shifting forward and back in an attenuated motion as she ran, her hips weighed down by the shafts.

As Garid came around the track for the second time he could see two other vehicles taking their place at the starting line, and he pulled his slave to a stop next to them. She wasn't even winded, just warmed up. He ignored the others' fussing over traces, the jokes and admonitions from the crowd, just held her steady, with his whip resting its long proprietary finger against the side of her ass, his bulk weighing her down. He could feel her nervousness through the reins. She'd never been raced before. He stroked her flank gently with the whip while the others got themselves settled. She chewed on the bit, moved her neck as far as she could against the checkrein, and shifted her shoulders slightly; she was relaxing her muscles as far as possible in her harness.

Then they were off. She would have strained herself too much if he'd let her, trying to get going quickly. As it was she got momentum going only a second or two behind the others vehicles, pulled by women somewhat larger than herself. Once they were going well he stung her hard, right, left, right, left, and she took off, slim rounded thighs flashing. They were gaining on the other two. He guided her round every step of the turn. He knew from experience that she couldn't see much through tears and blinders, which was the way he liked it. Her tail swung, and Garid was pleasurably aware of the dildo holding it in place, and the thin rod in her cunt, just thick enough to torment her, not enough to make her come, no matter how hard he whipped her or how fast she ran.

He was pushing her to the limit now, placing precise hard strikes on the back of each thigh, forcing her past one of the other vehicles, just as they passed the finish line. The other was well ahead. But at least they hadn't been last.

Head pulled back by his hand on the reins, she slowed, panting hard, stumbled a little sideways as she stopped. He flicked her breast hard on that side, and she straightened out, gasping for air. He gave her two more careful, searing strokes to teach her. The bell on that breast gave a sharp jingle with each blow. He could hear her crying as she stood precisely forward, feet together, chest heaving but otherwise motionless. Good.