Last Slave Standing

by Sean O'Kane

  Just then Anna Marie led her out from the stable into the enclosure and the men could see sperm caked on the insides of her thighs and round her chin. The high colour in her cheeks which gave her her nickname spread all the way down to her breasts, a clear sign she was excited. She held her head up proudly as Blackie came to nuzzle at her and lick her face clean of sperm. Purdy and Legs came forward too and knelt on either side of her so they could lick her thighs.

  “Thanks for making such good use of her,” Carlo said. To return an arena slave clean of all traces of usage after punishment would have been insulting, it might suggest that she was not sufficiently attractive or obedient.

  Hank waved and said he’d see them up at the house for dinner, then left them.

  Late in the afternoon when the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, Carlo and Brian took their small squad for a gentle run to help them sleep well before training got underway properly. They were allowed to run free and the two trainers followed behind in the jeep they had been given the use of. They kept to the roads as Alberto had warned them that some of the grass was damagingly sharp on naked flesh and also the ground was riddled with the holes of various burrowing animals.

  The slaves returned breathless and flushed from the air that was beginning to chill with the onset of evening. Steam was billowing from the shower room and food was hot in the urns. Patti and the grooms were washing the day’s tiredness off as well but soon had their charges scrubbed and kneeling at their troughs.

  Brian and Carlo went to change for dinner and when they came down it was to find the Salazar stable vets checking the CSL slaves over for any signs of illness. The severe women with close cropped hair were approaching their task with unbridled enthusiasm and Brian was amused by how much infection they seemed to think the common or garden vagina could contain. Each and every slave was finger fucked to orgasm before they were satisfied but left sample bottles to be filled in the morning.

  “Ugh!” Amelia complained. “I hate getting samples!”

  Brian patted her bottom and promised her he would see her later and that seemed to improve her mood. Carlo took Patti by the arm and took her to one side.

  “Take Ox and Trouble over to the vets’ surgery in the arena later, with my compliments and leave them there for the night. Anything goes except whipping.”

  Outside, their carriage was waiting for them and Brian was surprised to see the same two ponies still pulling it. Their welted hindquarters took yet more punishment as they laboured back to the house once more.

  Once inside the chandelier-lit magnificence of Alberto’s house, they were taken to the library for pre-dinner drinks and met their opposing owner and trainer. Hank introduced a small dapper man as Gregor Lescoff and a tall, gaunt man as his trainer Oleg Smerskovitch, they hailed from the Ukraine and fought in scarlet and black colours. There was no rancour between the stables, win or lose, both made a fortune and it was only the slaves who were required to fight. Hank and Oleg had each brought one of their senior guards with them and once the eight men had dined and were sampling a fine old brandy and discussing the advantages and drawbacks of various whips for use as punishment and stimulation, Alberto finally revealed his treat for his guests.

  The household slaves who had been cruelly kept at simmering point all afternoon were finally taken down from the alcoves and herded naked into the library where the men were taking their ease. There were two slaves for each man and they fought each other, clawing wildly and hair pulling as they tumbled across the thick carpet towards the men and the relief promised by the straining erections.

  Brian remembered the evening for a long time afterwards, he had never seen women so sex crazed. The first one to struggle her way across to him, tousle haired and wild eyed, scrabbled at his trousers in pure desperation and plunged his cock into her mouth with more enthusiasm than even he was used to, while she masturbated frantically. Some considerable time later he shot his third load of the night into the back passage of a shapely brunette whose face was buried in the cunt of one of her colleagues who in her turn was splayed out on her back being buggered by the man beneath her while with her mouth she was licking out another girl who was kneeling in front of Carlo and sucking him.

  Brian’s balls ached as they were emptied yet again but the orgasm was exquisite and he watched as the girl’s sphincter rippled as he pulled his gleaming shaft clear of her. Her plundered hole pouted sulkily for a moment as he left it before closing again, squeezing out a trail of sperm. Sated, Brian climbed to his feet just as Carlo sighed in pleasure and erupted into his girl’s throat. He looked around at the library strewn with the limp bodies of well-fucked slaves and grinned across at his host who was sitting with a slave kneeling between his legs and licking the last of his sperm off his detumescing cock.

  One final brandy was taken as the men disentangled themselves and recovered while the slaves were led away, and then goodnights were said and as Brian and Carlo made their way out they heard Alberto click his fingers. From out of the shadows at the edge of the hall, the two identical slaves crawled and came to heel. Alberto walked off in the direction of the stairs.

  “A master’s work is never done, eh?” he called to them with a rueful grin.

  Brian yawned as he entered his room above the stable and pulled his shirt off then undressed in the dark before sliding gratefully between the sheets. There was a girl in his bed, he assumed it was Amelia but whichever female it was, her legs were open for him as he rolled over and slid effortlessly into her, bending his head to lick and suckle at her nipples in the warm darkness as he began to thrust himself to yet one more climax. A master’s work he thought sleepily………

  The following days were spent in training as the slaves grew steadily more impatient for their big day to dawn. They were taken for long runs along the dead-level roads that cut across the featureless plains. The stables took it in turns to use and then vacate the arena and leave it for the opposition to practise pulling the giant logs across the arena floor and to rehearse moves for duelling and formations for melees. For the mass log pulling, Hank and Carlo drilled the squads in a rhythm of pulling from side to side to break the log free at first then on the command to pull straight. At each end of the arena the guards practised unshackling the lines of slaves and then re-attaching them to the other end of the log to pull it back for the second leg.

  Brian was delighted to find himself appointed whipman to the Salazar stable’s first chariot and practised with a lean, tanned guard as driver with Jet and Blondie running as ‘outriders’ as they were called. In the event of an injury or a slave going lame, then the second chariot would sacrifice itself by supplying a replacement. The rules were that no other replacements would be allowed.

  The design of the chariots was a third generation one. The original ones had simply had four slaves in a line across the crossbar. But then the Bakhtar stable had introduced the six slave design, with three pairs pushing at three crossbars. The increase in speed was welcomed by the crowds as the racing and the crashes became much more spectacular. The drivers however felt that they couldn’t spur the slaves on adequately. The front pair were difficult to flog and even the middle pair didn’t get as much as they needed and so the third generation of chariot had evolved. Keeping the long shaft of the three pair design, it put just one pair halfway along. Their backs and buttocks were perfectly placed for the driver’s whip. Ahead of them the front four were also now perfectly exposed for the whipman to spur on with the long lashed driving whip. At present they seemed to be delivering a satisfactory amount of both speed and spectacle. Cracking the whips mainly in the air above the slaves’ heads, Brian and his driver, Juan, practised charging the rig at full speed down the straights and then skidding it round at the turns. There were a few capsizes before everyone was fully used to the rig’s behaviour but there was no lasting damage to any of the slaves. Apart from Jet and Blondie running as the outside slaves on the front crossbar – the ones who had one hand f
ree to fight the opposing team with – Cherry and Tigre ran on the stable’s second chariot, after various combinations had been tried.

  The two complements of guards and trainers maintained friendly relations and it amused them all that occasionally they had to wade in to break up spats between the slaves as one team filed out and the other entered for practices in the circus and the arena.

  Legs, Blondie and Purdy were selected for dressage and Carlo had them drilling under floodlights late in the evenings until they and the three selected Salazar slaves were functioning as a perfectly disciplined unit.

  So engrossed was everyone that it came as a real shock when Brian, the grooms, Carlo and the Salazar guards led their squad out of the dressing rooms and into the arena for a final log pull practice and saw a speckling of colour on the terraces and realised that the crowd was beginning to assemble. That night the air was loud with the clatter of helicopters and the rumble of trucks and cars. From the CSL barracks everyone could see the sky glowing a little above the village on the far side of the arena. And from the bulk of the arena itself, Amelia and Patti watched the lights burn bright far into the night as Carlo, Brian and Hank put the finishing touches to the schedules of punishment facing the slaves.

  Patti slipped an arm around Amelia’s shoulders as they turned away from the window in Patti’s room. From beneath them came the sounds of Anne Marie and Helga finally settling the fractious slaves for the night. The crisp sound of three measured strikes with a crop drifted up and Anne Marie scolding in her native French.

  “That’ll be Tigre. She’s always last down on the night before a show,” Patti said, grinning broadly and unknotting her blouse. Amelia stared at the milky pale, broad and deep breasts with their red nipples and tawny areola.

  “The men won’t be back for ages, so come to bed with me. They’ll know where we are if they want a fuck,” she added, lounging back on her bed and letting her legs fall apart.

  “But if Brian has to come looking for me, he’ll punish me,” Amelia said, unknotting her own blouse as she spoke and sighing in resignation.

  “So? He owes you a bit of quality time I reckon.”

  Amelia giggled and lay down beside Patti, filling one hand with the soft warmth of her left breast. “Mmm! Well worth the whipping,” she whispered.

  Chapter 6

  Raika finished wiping the sperm off her inner thighs and labia, threw the paper towel into a bin and washed her hands in the sink in Patti’s office then let herself back out into the courtyard, a pleasant warmth still coursing through her from the energetic rogering she’d been given while bent over her boss’s desk. A male groom from the farm over on the eastern edge of the estate – where the real horses and ponies were kept - had dropped by to leave Ayesha’s tailor made, studded tack and dressage tack. He had waited to see the tall slave fully harnessed to make sure everything fitted and then he had taken his payment in kind with Raika before wiping himself clean on her buttock, giving her a resounding smack and wandering on his way, whistling jauntily.

  Absentmindedly she rubbed herself as she studied the tethered pony slave, patiently facing the wall, her wrists clipped to the shafts of the trap that she was about to pull. The day was a fine one with only a hint of early spring sharpness in the air, a perfect day to start pushing Ayesha back towards fitness, Raika thought as she approached and stroked a silky smooth thigh. Branding and tongue ringing had done her a power of good in Raika’s opinion. She was much more docile and placid. She had hardly reared at all when Raika had tightened the studded tit straps until the leather had sunk into the soft flesh and the wicked little tines, Raika knew, would keep her mind focused firmly on her slavery and the job in hand. The groom let her hand trail down to where the harness’s crotch strap separated the swells of labial meat and mischievously she pressed her fingers hard against where she knew the clitoral rasper was located. The slave’s eyes closed in delight and then opened wide in disappointment when she stopped and took her hand away.

  Raika laughed happily, slapped the big slave’s thigh and unfastened her leash. Then she took hold of the reins and jerked them downwards sharply. Instantly the pony dropped to one knee and this allowed Raika to step over the shaft of the trap whilst retaining her modesty in her short skirt.

  The irony of the fact that only a few moments ago, that same skirt had been unceremoniously flipped up onto her back while a man whose name she didn’t even know had rammed himself to ejaculation inside her while she bent over a desk, was not lost on her and she was smiling as she settled herself onto the sun-warmed, quilted leather of the seat. She wriggled a little until her bare thighs and her still tingling vulva were comfortable and the skirt was firmly tucked up behind her, then she contemplated the view in front of her and realised that she was going to add to the series of small dark patches on the leather that Mr Carlo and Mr Brian teased all the grooms about. They all leaked helplessly as they sat behind the deliciously quivering pony buttocks and the harnessed nudity of the graceful backs.

  On this particular morning Ayesha’s skin was honey gold and clear of all traces of the abuse she had suffered, the slender black straps up between the buttocks, around the waist and across the upper back – where it was required to keep the tit straps steady, provided a beautiful contrast. Raika was quite sure that Mr Carlo would want to see some evidence of the whip having been laid on in his absence and she had decided that now that Ayesha was in full studded tack once more, it was time to ask some questions of the new acquisition.

  She hauled back on the reins, more so with the left and Ayesha backed away from the hitching rail, her blinkered head pulled sharply to her left and making her back the rig to the right. Raika took the driving whip up from its holder and halted the slave with a gentle prod between the shoulders, then she tapped the same spot and kept the left rein tight as the powerful slave leaned into her task and the trap scrunched and rumbled on the concrete of the yard. In no time they were through the arch and out onto the tarmac road. Raika pulled the rig round to the left again and at a gentle walk they headed for the main house and the stableyard there. Raika’s intention was to make Ayesha pull for at least two hours, starting with an easy walk and working up to trotting and then galloping.

  Ayehsa’s oiled hide glistened in the sun and Raika sat back comfortably, knowing that by the end of the day she would be sweat-drenched and shiny, saliva dripping from her face and flying from her shoulders where her bit, passing through her tongue ring, wouldn’t allow her to close her mouth. But she had had a long lay off and a walk up to the main yard would loosen her nicely. Besides, since she had been left in sole charge, Raika hadn’t spoken to anyone else and in the main yard she could gossip for a few minutes with the Housegirls.

  They passed the blank steel walls of the training arena and then joined the path up from the ornamental lake, turning sharp left and with two hard taps between the shoulders and the first sweep of the whipcord, Raika urged her pony into a trot as the rig clattered under the ancient archway and then jolted over the cobbles until she reined in.

  Immediately there were squeals of delight from inside the stalls as the Housegirls on groom duty broke off tending to their sister Housegirls who were on pony duty and crowded round Raika and Ayesha.

  Inquisitive hands began immediately to explore the strapping of the harness and Ayehsa reared and pranced as her breasts were squeezed and her labia pinched and pulled. The Housegirls’ laughter increased as Raika tightened the reins and swept the whip across the buttocks a few times to calm the pony down. They all loved seeing the arena slaves in harness and under discipline, they knew what it was like to pull a trap in harness – but not what the studs felt like. They all felt the whips of their masters often enough – but never as much as the arena slaves felt them, and Raika knew that part of them envied her as the driver and part of them envied the slave.

  She dismounted and was embraced by Mary, Zoe and Penny who were on groom duty that day. They all admired the way Raika had scrub
bed Ayesha and oiled her, how well she had plaited her hair, how well the brand new harness shone. And they took it in turns to press the clitoral rasper and twist the swollen nipples hard. It was all part of Raika’s plan for the tall slave. She wanted her inflamed with pain and pleasure before she was run under the whip until she was trembling with fatigue and nearly dropping between the shafts. She wanted the butt plug and dildo to wreak havoc with her innards and the studs to torment her while all the time her driver ignored those facts and just drove her mercilessly. It was time Ayehsa was reminded of her reason for existing.

  Disengaging herself from her friends, once they had teased and tormented Ayesha into a lather, Raika had the slave ‘walk on’ and waved goodbye as the rig lurched and rattled over the cobbles until it stood on the tarmac of the main lime tree-shaded drive. Then once more Raika pulled left and let Ayesha walk down the incline, leaning back against the trap’s weight. But once at the bottom and back on the level, she clicked her tongue and used the length of whipcord at the end of the driving whip’s shaft to score the buttocks and wrap the pony’s hips. She broke into a trot and Raika almost laughed aloud. She had been certain that this would happen and her feet were resting against a riding crop that she had laid carefully along the footboard against just such a necessity.

  She reined in once more, put the whip back in its holder, took up the crop and stepped over the obediently lowered shaft, then, still holding the reins she threw them over the tall slave’s head and stood in front of her with the reins in one hand and the crop in the other. Between her blinkers, Raika could see the pony’s eyes were large with apprehension and tinged with just a little anticipation. She tightened her small fist on the reins and with no warning swung in a hard lash against the fronts of the thighs. She drew her arm full back and put her full strength into the blow as she swung forwards. She had quickly learned at CSL that there was no point whatever in being gentle with an arena slave. A deep tramline blossomed across the flesh instantly and Ayesha reared back, squealing around her bit. Raika held onto the reins grimly and dodged an attempted kick from a steel soled sandal. She swung in another lash, knowing it would be searing agony across the thigh muscles. Again Ayesha twisted and reared furiously. Again Raika hung on to the reins, panting and grinning fiercely with the thrill of the fight. This was where Ayehsa would be broken to the CSL bit. Or not.