Into The Arena

by Sean O'Kane

  Even so she gasped softly as his blunt fingers went straight to work, parting her outer lips roughly and then ploughing up into the moist depths of her vagina, twisting, opening clenching, testing her elasticity. She closed her eyes to blot out the image of his knowing grin as he worked her into a state of pleasure which had her bucking and gyrating her hips, ignoring the pain the movements caused in her buttocks.

  Once he was satisfied that she was moist enough, Carlo lowered himself onto her and she couldn't restrain the cry which broke from her as his weight pressed her down.

  He propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch her reactions as she felt the blunt helm begin to nose between her engorged labia and push up arrogantly into the depths of her body.

  "You sluts!" he whispered as he watched her wince, then gasp, then relax as he achieved full penetration. "The more it hurts, the more you like it!"

  And then he began to thrust himself towards his pleasure.

  If it had been his intention to deliberately stir up the storm of revolt which exploded inside Tara at the precise moment he began taking her, he certainly succeeded. She twisted and bucked under him, trying to throw him off. His words recalled her earlier determination not to be one of those subs, as Conor had called them. Furiously she tried to deny her capitulation but it was far too late by then. Her body was in overdrive and it wouldn't be denied. To her abject shame her struggles became the sinuous writhings of a woman enjoying the man who was taking her. Carlo had beaten her more thoroughly than she had given him credit for. He knew it too and took his time with her, thrusting and withdrawing in a leisurely rhythm to let her savour her mingled despair and pleasure and add her groans to the chorus around her as twelve girls were reduced to quivering, ecstatic flesh by the thick rods of maleness which penetrated them.

  He took her to two blinding orgasms before she felt him thrust harder and then remain fully inside her while his body went rigid and she felt the spurts of semen flood out into her. He withdrew immediately and stood up. Tara was still quivering with the aftershocks and could only lie under his gaze, her legs wide open and his sperm oozing out of her.

  "I'm going to enjoy training you, Blondie," he told her, then fastened his trousers and left, locking her cell door.

  "Get some sleep," he told them all. "You're going to need it! There'll be a guard on all night so don't bother trying to talk."

  The cell doors clanged shut one after another, the men made their way out of the bulkhead door at the far end of the hold and the lights were turned off, except for one weak bulb over the door itself.

  Tara relaxed at long last, even the burning in her back couldn't keep her awake and she felt herself begin to spiral down into sleep.

  "Hey! Hey! You alright?" A whisper brought her reluctantly back. She craned her head up and looked down the length of her body. In the semi darkness she could just make out the raised head of the redhead in the next cell.

  "That was a real thrashing they gave you. You okay?"

  Tara was just about to reply when suddenly the lights went back on and a man's footsteps approached. Tara groaned inwardly, the acoustics of the steel shell in which they were held had betrayed even a whisper.

  A huge blond guard strode between the cells, his whip already in his hand.

  "Which one of you was talking?"

  There was a terrified silence.

  "Okay, I get to whip all of you then," he said with evident pleasure and reached for the bunch of keys hanging from his belt.

  "No! No! It was me." The redhead's admission was scarcely more than her offending whisper had been.

  He smiled and isolated the key to her cell. Tara closed her eyes in despair, she didn't want to see what was coming next and tried to block out the sounds of the cell being opened, the man walking to her bunk and then the first shhwack! as the inevitable whipping began.

  She heard the girl's body twist on the bunk and could envisage how she would be curled up in a foetal position to shield herself as best she could, even if it meant presenting her already flogged back and bottom. There were stifled yelps and squeals as the remorseless Swish! Smack! went on and on. She tried to screw her eyes even tighter shut, as if that would blot out the sounds, but instead found that it increased the clarity of the vision in her mind, the slender body twisting and writhing; the tall muscular man standing over her administering discipline with no hint of pity. Proud of her own physique, she had always been an admirer of a well-honed male body.

  But at last the whip stopped falling, there was the clink of steel bonds being released or adjusted and Tara looked up to see the girl being dragged from her cell.

  "Sit up you bitches, and watch this," he ordered curtly, looking around to check that his order had been obeyed. Tara heaved herself up and watched, she had no choice, but she couldn't deny that she wanted to see what further cruelty was in store.

  Held by her thick red mane, the girl knelt at the man's feet. Livid stripes laced her back, thighs, buttocks and ribs. The man's other hand went to his trousers and he freed a rampantly erect sex which dwarfed the elfin face of the girl. Her hands were free and as soon as the cock was in front of her, without waiting for an instruction, she reached around to hold the man by his hips and began to run her tongue up and down it, and then opened her small mouth to its fullest extent and slid her lips over the gleaming helm. Tara had never seen another girl give oral sex and was breathlessly excited by how the huge shaft was somehow fitted between the soft lips, stretching to their limit to contain its girth. As the girl moved her head slowly up and down, Tara could almost taste and feel the shaft on her own tongue. The girl was now sucking with every sign of eagerness, but then, Tara thought, what girl wouldn't to escape another thrashing.

  As if reading her thoughts the man looked around to make sure he had their attention.

  "Now watch!" he said.

  He pushed the girl's head back so that his shaft, now shiny with saliva, slipped from her mouth. Holding her face just clear of it he gripped it with his own fist and began to masturbate, slowly and deliberately sliding his hand up and down, then gradually increasing the tempo until he gave a soft gasp and his seed suddenly fountained out. He released the girl's head and used both hands to milk himself, the thick fluid spurting out all over her face, her chest and hair. She made a soft mewing noise and with no forcing darted her tongue out to try and catch as many drops as she could, and to Tara's amazement, her hands went straight between her own legs. When the man was finished she leaned forward and began to lick him clean while between her thighs Tara could see her hands were busily at work as she tried to masturbate herself to a climax.

  That was not permitted however. She was hauled up with a moan of frustration and chained back to her bunk. Her long hair hid her face as she was put back in her cell and although Tara tried, she couldn't make out whether the girl's face registered shame, guilt, distress.......or pleasure. But what she did see was that as soon as she had the chance, the girl wiped her face and quickly licked her fingers.

  "Think about that! It's why you're here," the guard told them all as he locked the cell again and left them.

  Tara couldn't help thinking about it as the lights went out again. The girl had had her hands free; she could have struggled, she could have done anything. But instead she seemed to have gladly participated in the scene being played out. Of course it could all have been due to fear of another flogging, but Tara was certain that no one could make a girl behave as wantonly as that through fear alone. There had to be something else.

  She tried to think further but was too exhausted, confused and disturbed. Sleep claimed her quickly once again.

  Chapter 5

  They were roused in the morning by Carlo and the guards, who crashed the bulkhead door open and walked noisily over to the cells with that swagger which Tara had noticed the day before. But principally what she noticed was that she was hungry, she hadn't eaten since her meal with that bastard Conor - and God knew how long ago that had
been. The ache in her stomach easily eclipsed the stiffness in her back as she struggled to her feet when Carlo told them all to stand. With their hands still chained to the walls behind their bunks, it made them all adopt an uncomfortable, half twisted pose. But at least, one row at a time, they were led out of the cells with their hands free and allowed to use a washroom which opened off from the hold via another door beside the one the men came and went by.

  There were six toilet cubicles; all of them doorless and six guards accompanied Tara's row. They lounged against the sinks and watched as the girls performed. Never in her life had Tara felt so utterly naked as the men's eyes followed every sway and ripple of her breasts, every roll and quiver of her red-striped buttocks. But most of all she felt it when she had to open her legs and sit down in front of them. For a long time her body refused to respond, despite the urgency of her need, but eventually nature won out and she blushed furiously and looked down all the while as her body performed the necessary functions. But once that ordeal was over they were allowed to shower. Six shower heads lined a tiled area and dispensed steaming hot water and it was the most welcome shower she had ever taken. She soaped herself all over, glad to get rid of Carlo's traces amongst everything else, but while she did so, running her hands up her thighs, delving between them, then drawing them up to run over her stomach and breasts, she became suddenly aware of the sexual spectacle she was making of herself. She glanced around her and was aware that there were six attractive, naked women, openly displaying themselves to these men. Of course they had no choice in the matter she told herself but even so she couldn't help noticing the magnificent bulges in the fronts of the men's trousers. As she washed her hair and luxuriated in the cascade of hot water running over her, she felt no need to hurry, no need to try and hide anything. Conventional female modesty seemed pretty pointless anyway, these men would take what they wanted, when they wanted it. She still couldn't get used to that idea, but it wasn't such a bad one she had to admit.

  Carlo had made her come under the most extreme conditions she had ever experienced. And as she turned towards the wall to let the water sluice the soap off her back and bottom, she suddenly didn't mind that six pairs of hungry male eyes were undoubtedly appreciating her form. At least she hoped it was hers they were appreciating, she glanced round over her shoulder and was even upset to find that hers was by no means the only body they were watching. She put one hand against the tiles, arched her back so her bottom stuck out more and made a show of opening her legs a bit and reaching under herself with the other to make sure she was clean of soap down there. But suddenly the flow of water was cut off and the spell was broken, leaving her aghast at her own wantonness. She grabbed at the towel which was flung at her and tried to cover herself as best she could while she dried off. She was deeply ashamed of herself and remembered how she had sworn the previous night that she wouldn't become submissive. But just then she had been behaving like a complete tart in front of brutal men who were keeping her imprisoned and naked. She towelled herself frantically to blot out any further thoughts which might follow on from there.

  Once back in the main hold, Tara's row of cells having been the second taken out, the other girls were waiting, standing with their backs against the closed doors of the cells; their legs apart and their hands neatly behind their backs. Tara's row were made to adopt the same stance and Carlo addressed them again.

  "Your purpose in life from now on is to entertain and to please whoever you are told to. One way you will do that is pretty obvious," and here he gave them his toothy grin again. "But the other is that you will fight for the privilege of pleasing us."

  Tara just couldn't work out what he meant but for some reason she felt a rush of adrenalin at his words.

  "By that I mean you will fight because we will enjoy watching you and will reward you if you do well. If you don't, you will be punished."

  Tara could see her own bewilderment mirrored in the eyes of the other girls. But Carlo was speaking again.

  "At the moment you are hungry, yes? Well, I will feed you.......that will be your reward for fighting well. If you don't fight well, then maybe you don't eat, or maybe you get punished first. I will see how I feel. But if you don't fight at all, then you definitely get punished and you definitely don't eat."

  In disbelief she listened as he outlined what he had in store for them. They would each be given a number and he would draw numbered balls to see who fought who. A table loaded with muesli, milk and fruit juice had been brought in and placed where they could all see it. Tara's stomach growled even as her mind reeled at the thought that she would have to fight another naked girl just for the privilege of eating..........and just to entertain these men. She could well remember from the club just what an erotic sight two women struggling could be. But here there was no erotic ambience, just nakedness and hunger.......and strong, self-assured men with whips, she added, feeling the beginnings of that excitement she always felt when facing a new challenge.

  Carlo went round them all, touching them on the shoulder with his riding crop and giving them their numbers. Tara's was number nine. The big blond man who had whipped the redhead the previous night held out a bag and Carlo dipped his hand in, pulling out the numbers eight and two.

  The two girls shuffled forwards nervously, one was another blonde, smaller than Tara and the other girl was the brunette from the cell on Tara's right. A guard clipped a short length of chain between the blonde's left wrist and the brunette's right.

  "Now all you have to do is be the first to get to the far wall," Carlo told them, pointing to the far end of the hold. Two more of the guards were busy moving some of the fearsome frames and racks aside. "When I shout 'Go!' You make sure you are the one who wins or you might not eat." Again he grinned, and then shouted, "Go!"

  The brunette from the cell to Tara's right was slow, or maybe reluctant, but either way she paid a heavy price. The blonde immediately twisted round and slapped her across the face, then swung her around by the chain, pulling her off balance. She fell headlong and the blonde set off for the far wall tugging her after her. Realising her danger, the brunette rallied and managed to use her free hand to trip the blonde up. And from then on the watchers were treated to a fine display of struggling femininity. Legs intertwined, buttocks and breasts rippled as they were slapped, pinched and scratched. Plump little sex pouches appeared and disappeared between thrashing legs and the girls grunted and yelped as they struggled.

  The men began cheering on one or the other and Tara found that her blood was thundering in her veins, just as it had back at the club. It was raw sexuality, it was gladiatorial, two females fighting for the pleasure of an audience. And the pleasure was intense. She found herself screaming encouragement to the brunette; and she wasn't alone. All the girls were adding their shriller notes to the male chorus, risking breaking the rule of silence in their excitement.

  The initial advantage the blonde had won meant that the struggle was fierce but short. She was always that bit ahead of the brunette and managed to twist around so that she was sitting up and was able to squirm backwards on her bottom, dragging her opponent after her and kicking out at her to keep her at bay. She reached behind her and touched the bulkhead; Carlo stepped in and everyone subsided. The blonde stood up once her wrist was released and all the girls could plainly see the flush of pride and pleasure on her face. She held herself proudly, displaying her scratched breasts and thighs, bearing flares of red where they had been slapped. And when she was allowed over to the breakfast table, she moved with a consciously seductive sway in her step, rolling her striped buttocks provocatively.

  Meanwhile, the brunette was pulled to her feet and Carlo asked the guards if they thought she had put up a good enough fight. Just as in the club, the fists went out with the thumbs down.

  "Ten with the cane and half rations," he announced.

  One of the men pulled a simple trestle out into the floor. The brunette tried to put her hands protectively on her butt
ocks and whimpered but Carlo led her firmly over to it, ignoring her attempts to hang back. Once in front of the trestle, the girl knew there was no point in further struggle and bent over it obediently. Her back was facing towards the other girls as she bent over and Tara had never seen a girl so provocatively displayed. She had good legs, the thighs slender and straight, and as she bent, the width of her hips made her buttocks invitingly broad targets of smooth flesh, the only flaws being the traces of the previous night's punishment and these, for some reason, only added to the allure of the sight she presented. But most excitingly of all, for Tara, was the way the plump labia were pushed back towards the watchers by the girl's stance. Again the blatant way these domineering men managed to have on display all that a girl normally kept so secret and hidden, triggered a deep response inside Tara and she felt a tingle start in her nipples, an almost electric shiver which ran down to her belly. Her breasts began to feel tight and she knew that her nipples were engorging and erecting in a shameless display of excitement at the scene being played out. A quick glance round confirmed that she was not the only one. All around her, pert little breasts, heavy meaty ones and even the black girl's chocolate coloured globes were sporting hard red nubs.

  The girl's ankles were secured with rope to a bar at the base of the trestle and her wrist restraints to the uprights on the far side. Between the graceful arch of her legs, the girls could see her face, upside down and framed by her cascading hair. Her eyes were screwed shut and she was biting her lip. And with good cause. One of the men now stood behind her and laid a wickedly long and thin length of rattan across her flinching bottom.