by Sean O'Kane
But above all Carlo drilled into them the entertainment factor. If they had a girl by the nipples; they should lead her round by them. Let the audience see what they were doing. If they had the crotch grip on; then they should push the victim up onto her toes, make her squeal and then use their free hand to slam down onto the one holding the grip and jerk it out with the fingers still clenched. And the victims had their part to play as well, they were to play up the effects of the hold they were in. But in the case of the brutal removal of the crotch grip, there was no need. However, the recipient of the hold was strictly forbidden to try and stop the chopping hand from descending, it was a theatrical gesture for the benefit of the audience and nothing to do with the girl on the receiving end. They all took turns in putting the grip on another girl and then jerking their hands loose and then having it done to them. Tara, along with the rest of them screamed as the fingers were wrenched free, it was a gut-churning combination of curiously intrusive pleasure and pain, and immediately she doubled over with her hands between her legs. A girl in that position was easy meat, either to finish off if the contest had gone on for a reasonable amount of time, or to lead round by the hair and/or nipples for a bit before using an Irish whip or hip throw to get her down.
Curiously enough even the bruises and the pain didn't bother Tara - or any of the others it seemed. If anything they were more than ready to service the men when they required it, which was almost always. So for hours on end the hold would echo to the sounds of bodies being thrown onto the mats, girls grunting and straining as they struggled, the snap of whips as the guards encouraged them and then around the mats, there were the softer noises. Here a girl would have been fingered so long and thoroughly that she was squelching, there one would be on all fours, moaning in pleasure while a guard knelt behind her, and mostly there would be girls on their knees before their guards with thick rods of manhood between their stretched lips. Tara found that she especially enjoyed being ordered to her knees after she had finished a training bout, somehow it seemed fitting to end it like that.
In the afternoons the sessions would get harder. That was when additions were made. Instead of fighting each other with wrists chained just to get to one wall of the hold, they were introduced to whip duels. In these they would face each other with a whip of many flat-bladed strands about eighteen inches long and attempt to flog the other girl into submission. Tara found that she hadn't the slightest compunction about whipping another girl. They had all become so used to whips by then, due to the evening activities, that it just seemed part and parcel of what they were and how they lived. They were slaves - even Tara had given up trying to deny it - and had obviously been picked for their slavish inclinations and physical abilities. It was pure pleasure to find a whip in her hand and an opponent to overcome. The duels demanded fast reactions, physical stamina and high pain thresholds. Tara had all three and she always won. She could twist away from incoming slashes of the whip, drag her opponent off balance and get her own blow in, in one single graceful move. But she never repeated her first mistake. She tormented her opponents, drawing out the contest, even letting them land a few blows on her just to make it more interesting - and she had to admit more pleasurable; she was beginning to allow herself to enjoy the hot skin-burn of the whip - she lapped up the cheers of the men as she danced infuriatingly in front of her tiring opponent, until finally she would wrap her whip's lashes round the handle of her foe's and wrench it from her hand. From then on she would choose her targets. A beaten girl's first reaction would be to shield her breasts, so she would lash the fronts of the thighs, to make her drop her arm, then swing one in over the girl's shoulder which would make her straighten; and then she had a clear shot and would make the soft swells of the breasts ripple and shake under the lash. Just as the audience liked. But it wasn't just Tara who had learned her lessons, her victims would play their part too. They would react with screams and gasps and twists, and stagger about more than was strictly necessary, but enough to make a good show.
Eventually they would collapse to their knees and offer her their surrender by letting her spread her legs in front of their faces and then licking her. Tara found that an exquisitely delicate pleasure to balance the rough fucks she got from the men. The delicate, knowing tongues, lapping and swirling around her engorged clitoris were the perfect opposite to the brutal, breathtaking penetrations she got several times a day. She loved both of them equally. But even the losers found their pleasure, as Tara herself had, the one and only time she had lost.
Climaxes under punishment gradually became commonplace. It seemed that the elements which made up the girls' new lives; physical conflict, domination, discipline and sex were becoming more and more mixed and blurred in their minds. The discipline was administered not only for defeat, but also randomly. Just as a guard would pleasure himself with a girl whenever he felt like it, so he might also put a girl in a whipping frame, chain her to the whipping post or put her in the stocks and administer 'discipline' at any time and only when he had finished with her in that way would he take her. So the whip, both giving and receiving it, and the men's cocks became an integral part of each day until the girls reacted to discipline as they would to sex. And as the days wore on, real punishment took the form of enforced sexual abstinence. This took place in a small cell on the deck below the one on which they were held. It was an airless, plain, steel box and a girl condemned to punishment would be chained in it with nothing more than a bucket. Meagre supplies of food and water were given her twice a day but otherwise all she could do was sit or lie on the hard steel and contemplate all that she was missing.
As a result of all these developments the hold became a furnace of sexual tension fuelled by twelve constantly aroused girls and twelve well set up men who were only too happy to keep them that way, whether they screwed them or beat them.
But it was in the evenings when things got really hot.
Carlo referred to it as 'playtime'. At that time each day, the girls were schooled in other sorts of contests. These he called 'endurance' events. In these the girls measured their tolerances of pain and pleasure against each others'. They learned what weight lifting really entailed.
In Tara's first contest she was put up against the girl in the opposite cell to hers, she was dark haired and pretty with good-sized breasts and hips. They were made to squat while the guards attached clips to their labia. These were flat-bladed metal affairs with a locking mechanism and they bit cruelly into the soft flesh, making Tara draw in her breath with a hiss as they were attached, sending pain deep into her core to mingle with the excitement of having a man handle her sex lips. The clips had chains hanging from them and the contest was brutally simple. To start with each girl had a cylindrical weight attached to each chain and on the command they had to stand and fully straighten their legs. Of course the chains supporting the weights were only a couple of inches long so that meant that their labia had to take the full strain. They had to remain quite still for a count of ten before they were allowed to squat again. But that was only to allow for another weight to be added and the process was repeated until one girl gave in.
The first weights weren't as bad as she had feared. But even so they made her feel as though her labia were being stretched down to her knees. Both girls held until the count of ten and then gratefully squatted once more. With two weights swinging from each chain, Tara couldn't help but grimace at the sharp pain which shot through her as she stood. She could feel the metal cylinders swinging against her inner thighs and most disconcertingly actually feel her labia distending downwards. The count seemed much longer that time before she could squat once more and prepare herself to take three weights. This time she glanced over at her opponent while the guard was busily working at her crotch. She was biting her lip and watching her guard closely; nervously. Tara felt the familiar thrill of conquest run through her. She was going to win this. Her guard had finished attaching the third weight to each chain and ran his fingers down he
r slit and into her molten vagina, making her whimper with pleasure.
"Carlo says if you don't win, he'll put you in solitary for a week, Blondie," he whispered. "But if you do win, I'll fuck your lights out."
She grinned but didn't dare look at him. She was coming to understand and accept her liking for this blunt openness about fucking. And she knew well enough that his threat was no idle one. These were the sort of men she had visualised in her most secret dreams.
She couldn't help but gasp this time as the weights left the floor and swung freely between her open legs. The pain in her labia was excruciating, but she was in position well before the other girl and heard the slow count to ten begin. She felt a sweat start out on her though at the thought of maybe having to lift four on each lip. Around her Tara heard the shouts of encouragement but the pain in her labia was now engulfing her whole lower belly. She had screwed her eyes tight shut but opened them again to see the other girl gasping and crying even more than she was. It was enough, she clenched her hands into fists by her thighs and watched her opponent give a despairing cry and fall back down to a squat.
The pain of having the clips removed and feeling the blood flow back into the squeezed flesh had both girls writhing on the floor but as soon as she could stand, Tara's guard was as good as his word and led her back to her cell. There, to the background noises of the whip being applied to the loser and the sounds of another weight lifting contest taking place, he made good his promise.
As the days wore on they became used to nipple clamps, suspensions and bondage - especially breast bondage. Tara was amazed at the men's skill with rope, and even more amazed at how they could make her breasts stand out in straining, throbbingly tight bulges with their carefully applied loops, cunningly knotted across her chest, or looped behind her to imprison her arms and wrists, then through her crotch to torment that as well.
And always there were the implements like the crop, the cane and the various whips which invariably preceded the masterfully hard penetrations of their sexes.
So constant was her state of arousal as the ship ploughed slowly South, that Tara never gave any thought to anything other than the next training session, contest, or the next 'playtime'. And that the ship was steadily heading into warmer latitudes was made plain by the men who started wearing just shorts and deck shoes, which cranked up the atmosphere in the hold another few notches. Even when she was strapped down to one of the many benches, or even held spreadeagled against the bars of the door to her cell, Tara watched the sweat-gleaming, muscular male bodies as sometimes two of them worked on her, applying nipple clamps followed by labial clamps, then tying these to her widespread thighs before making full use of her pulled-open vulva. Sometimes they used a crop or cane on her thighs first, making her bite her lip against the pain and then flogged the pinkly vulnerable vulva itself, inner lips a-quiver, with a martinet or scourge. And she would howl in wordless anguish at the blasts of mingled agony and lust, while trying to tilt her hips forward greedily to experience the next bout of pain. If they made her come before they thrust their hard cocks deep inside her, then all they had to do was bite or twist her aching nipples as they rammed into her to send her spiralling into an outer void of delirium which she had never before experienced.
But there was one fly in the ointment as far as Tara was concerned. She continued to be undefeated, except in that one contest in which Carlo had set her up to lose. She burned for revenge.
No longer were numbers pulled at random. Carlo called the girls out for contests after carefully consulting his clipboard. And he no longer called out numbers. All the girls now had nicknames, given them by the guards. The black girl was Jet, the redhead was Carrot, the girl in the cell opposite Tara was Channel - due to the tremendous elasticity of her cunt which could hold seven or eight of the long slender candles the men used for hot waxing them. But it was the girl called Cherry who Tara listened for, the only girl who had ever beaten her; named for the deep red of her nearly constantly erect nipples.
But it wasn't until a couple of days before they made land that Tara got her chance. Carlo obviously had something special planned on the afternoon of that day. When the first girls were called out they were taken above deck. Tara felt her heart pound at the thought of what going up there had meant before. The remaining girls looked fearfully at one another, but two guards remained below and no one spoke.
It was a long time before the girls came back. They were bathed in sweat and were both scratched and dirty, but one - a girl they called simply Tits - bore the thin, livid traces of a multi-thonged whip on her back, shoulders, buttocks, sides, and even her thighs, the criss-crossing welts wrapping right round into her crotch. It was only then that Carlo told them what was going on.
"We dock soon. So today you are going to show the crew what you have learned. You remember all your lessons well, or.........." He pointed at Tits who was being chained up against the door of her cell as living proof of what to expect if they failed him.
Pair after pair were called out and returned with the losers all showing traces of much worse than usual punishment. Gradually Tara began to hope that this day would at last see her get her revenge as the pairs were called out and still she and Cherry remained. At last she and Cherry were the only two left. When they were called Tara stood up and smiled at the other girl who flicked her head back proudly and returned the smile.
Up on deck Carlo stopped them just as they stepped up into the still bright sunlight.
"I want a really good fight out of you two. You're the main event." He turned to Cherry. "If you lose, you're going get all that Blondie got before she fought you last time. If you lose, Blondie........." He took her face in one hand squeezing her cheeks painfully. "You're going to be strung up out here all night.......and maybe I'll let the crew have playtime with you as well. We've been at sea a long time!"
Both girls shuddered. Carlo had once again stage-managed things with clever, cruel precision. His main event starred two girls who were both desperate to win and who were both scared stiff of what would happen to them if they lost.
As they were led aft, down onto the main deck, Tara saw that a proper ring had been set up with four posts supporting three ropes. Within the square they formed, thin gym mats had been placed over the steel decking. They would cushion some of the impact of a fall, she reckoned but anything higher than a hip throw would be pretty jarring. Around the ring stood the crew, most of them stripped down to shorts, but their physiques were not a match for the guards. Some were short and skinny, some slender, some grossly fat and they all glistened with sweat under the hot sun. But from the looks they turned on the two naked female gladiators being led out to do battle, Tara was sure that it wasn't just the sun which had got them hot.
The girls were led through the throng and Tara felt hands stroking her thighs and buttocks as she went. It was the biggest audience she had had yet for her nakedness and athleticism and she felt herself begin to respond with that tingling heat at her nipples which began to spread down towards her sex.
Once inside the ring the girls were led to opposite corners and their wrist restraints were removed so that they couldn't be used to bludgeon their opponent. Carlo announced that this was to be a grudge match and the men cheered enthusiastically at the prospect of seeing some real venom between the combatants. There were no rounds of course and the contest would continue until one girl submitted in the usual way.
As they had rehearsed below decks so often, Carlo stepped out of the way - this time ducking out through the ropes - and the girls threw themselves at one another.
If Cherry had in any way been afraid of taking on Tara, unflogged and fresh, she didn't show it. As they cannoned together, breast to breast and Tara sought for an arm lock, she twisted and ducked, grabbing Tara by her thighs, then straightening. Tara was thrown clear over her shoulder and had to slam her feet down to lessen the breathtaking impact of her landing. For the next few minutes she writhed and squirmed on the end o
f an agonising wristlock until finally she could trip Cherry up, wrench herself clear and regain her feet. She looked down at the naked girl sprawling at her feet, her legs carelessly spread, her breasts heaving and trembling as she panted and moved. Her nipples were hard, straining bullets of the deep red colour which had given her name. And Tara knew how she felt. They were the focus of male lust which seemed to roll in waves from the audience and there was the added thrill of knowing that one of them was going to get an almighty thrashing from Carlo.
Tara felt intensely alive, even more than she had in the training fights below. Here she had a gallery to play to, a tough opponent and the risk of a serious whipping. Her blood sang in her veins and she grinned savagely while she let Cherry get up, then dived in and threw her, this time she followed the girl down and dug her elbow into her stomach as she landed. Then she rolled clear and again let the girl up. But Cherry came at her fast and low, smashing into her at thigh level and bringing her down. For several minutes they struggled in a blur of scratching and hair pulling, giving the audience a good show as breasts were squeezed and buttocks smacked and raked with clawed fingernails.