by Sean O'Kane
“Don’t forget,” he went on, “not every slave reacts the same to electric stimulation so don’t think you can slam everything to maximum and just wait for her to come. You’re really going to have to work her up to it, reading her all the way! When you achieve orgasm, the monitor pad over her heart will light the red light on top of the frame. Now, are you all ready?”
Brian and Amelia stood forward and took two controls each. As far as Brian could tell, he would be in control of one tit and her anus.
“Are you set?” the guard asked. Hands tensed on controls and there came a concerted whispering and whimpering in various languages. The Chinese girl suspended beside theirs began to shake her head and plead for mercy in her own language. On the other side of them a black girl began to beg in a thick Creole dialect. Brian stared at the French girl in front of them, her upper lip – and he couldn’t help noticing how her lips pouted almost to an exaggerated extent – was still swollen and scabbing from a cut. One cheek was discoloured and swollen too. He felt his sorely overworked cock throb back into erection, he loved seeing battle scarred gladiators put to sexual use. Proudly she shook her thick hair back and looked him in the eye. He saw her frame the initial syllable of some insult.
“Go!” the guard cried and Amelia twitched one of her controls. Brian saw the spasm run through the slave’s right pectoral, making the tit itself judder as she jerked, her head threw back, the insult was strangled by a scream and her body jumped in its shackles.
Quickly he tried his controls and saw he’d given her left tit a belt and her pelvis slammed forwards, but that didn’t tell them whether he’d hit her in the cunt or the arse.
“Wait, let me see which ones I’ve got!” Amelia urged and Brian could see the sense of it. Her hands twisted again and the French girl’s body twisted again as her right tit was hit, then her pelvis spasmed again.
“Do it harder!” he shouted over the mounting chorus of shrieks and wails from the slaves and the excited squeaks of the female punters. Amelia’s hand twisted further and the French girl’s pelvis twitched again, this time Brian bent right down so he could peer between her legs and saw that when Amelia hit her again, her buttocks weren’t clenching.
“You’ve got the cunt!” he yelled. Once they knew who had control of which bits of the body before them, the next problem was how to play it. For a while they joined in with all the other punters who were enjoying the ways in which they could make the tormented flesh in front of them wriggle and twist helplessly. But gradually the screams of protest began to soften into moans of despairing pleasure. In contrast the punters began to crouch more earnestly over their controls, glancing anxiously at some of the slaves who were beginning to thrust and grind their hips as if they had a cock inside them.
“Come on! Come, you bitch!” Amelia whispered through clenched teeth. Brian gave her a stronger belt in the arse just as Amelia hit her cunt. Suddenly the French girl’s head snapped forwards again and she fixed them both with a stare of pure fury but at last her pelvis began to rock and swivel with a real rhythm.
They both hit her breasts and she grimaced but kept her eyes fixed on them, defying them even as she began to climb towards a forced orgasm. Around them the cries were getting higher pitched. Someone was going to come soon. Amelia thumped the desk in frustration but then looked at the sneering face of the slave and laughed as she watched the lips move. She reached down to the cunt control and twisted it savagely to maximum. The French girl locked rigid, her pelvis twitching, her labia fluttering and a spurt of thick juice oozed from between her lips and began to trickle down her thighs. The red light on top of the frame flashed.
“We have a winner!” the guard announced and immediately all the current to the other slaves’ bodies was cut. Disappointed punters stood back as the slaves’ heads slumped forwards again, awaiting the cut of the crop to herald another trip towards an orgasm they didn’t want.
This time Brian collected a stiff lashed little whip with a phallic handle to it.
“How did you know?” Brian asked as they made to leave.
“After-lights-out excursions from finishing school taught me the French slang for ‘cunt’ and ‘come’ and I know the word for ‘hard’,” she laughed. “But I wasn’t impressed by the ‘fucking bitch’ bit!”
Brian was impressed however. He turned back to where the slave still hung with her head lolling forwards.
“She’s a tough one!” he called to the guard who was approaching her with a bucket and a long handled brush to scrub her down for the next game.
“Hah! Yeah, she is that! Pain in the arse in barracks though. Wants to fight everything, all the time! Spends more time in solitary than training.” He loaded the brush with cold water and rubbed it briskly between her legs, making sure he didn’t dislodge the needles or clips, then he pushed it roughly into her face to revive her. “Come on you beauty!” he called cheerfully. “Wakey, wakey! Time for another game!”
The French girl spluttered and she shook her head to clear it of the filthy water as the guard moved on to the next girl.
Back at the stables Brian told Carlo about her.
“And she chucked out a good pint of juice when she came,” he concluded.
Carlo was clearly interested but cautious. “There’s no point in going to her owner. If he knows you want to buy, her price goes through the roof. But if she’s troublesome we’ll keep an eye out at the auctions. It may be we can do something with her, like with Purdy and Trouble. And if she’s a good spurter, then she’ll get top dollar in the dungeons, you know how they like to see them pump it out under the whip.”
It was as he was loading the crates, heavy with their hog tied and groaning cargo onto the truck to take them back to the airport, that the young man approached him. Carlo was up at the main house, finalising details of payment and Brian was temporarily in charge.
“I’d like to work for you and Mr Suarez,” he said as Brian slid Jet’s crate onto the load platform and stopped to wipe his brow.
The lad was in his early twenties, shorter and more lightly built than he was, his hair was dark and thick, worn quite long and framing a thin, intelligent face. Beside him stood a pretty little Eurasian girl in a simple yellow shift dress. Brian’s thoughts went back to how he had approached Carlo at the Bakhtar arena with Amelia standing shyly beside him.
“How do I go about it?” the young man continued.
Refreshing honesty. Just the tactic he had used himself. Daily they were bombarded with e mails from brash young bucks who boasted about how many women they could shag one after the other, their expertise with the whip etc. etc. Carlo always said that the right man for CSL would be the one who really came looking for them.
“You need to get lucky,” he told the young man, who nodded thoughtfully. “And you need to make your own luck,” Brian concluded and reached into a back pocket for a CSL business card. The young man took it and flashed Brian a broad smile.
“Thanks. I’ll see what I can come up with,” he said and walked off.
He mentioned the incident to Carlo when he returned.
“We’ll see, eh?” was all the Spaniard would say.
Chapter 12
Raika cleaned everything, ready for the others’ return. She was unperturbed by the prospect of having to lead a double life while she carried out the job her real master wanted her to do. Although deception was not in her nature in any way, her session with Sir John had so shocked her that she was now determined that nothing would stand between her and her dream of being respectable and honoured. If it meant a few more weeks of acting the whoreslave, then so be it. As an absolutely honest person, it never entered her head to consider that maybe her master might not keep his word.
In her stall, Ayesha paced about, her chain slithering and clinking on the floor. She knew from all the cleaning, mopping and sweeping that the rest of the stable was returning and that meant she could get back into training after the long lay off she had been forced to endure
while Sir John took his revenge on her.
Raika sang happily to herself as she mopped the floor, bars of bright sun shining across the room full of dancing dust motes. Suddenly the door opened and a woman stepped in. Raika stopped work and looked at her curiously. At The Lodge, women came only in different varieties of submissiveness – all except Madame Stalevsky of course. But the tall young woman who now stood looking round her didn’t seem either to be a Housegirl or a potential groom. Her thick, dark brown hair was cut in a simple bob and her face was pretty, her eyes were large and dark, her lips full and made up to a deep red shade which suited her colouring perfectly. She wore a red shirt which Raika noted was tucked into her jeans tightly enough to accentuate quite a pronounced curve at the breast. But it was the jeans that really caught Raika’s attention. She filled them very nicely, her hips well curved and full, her buttocks equally well curved behind and her legs long with well shaped thighs. No, it wasn’t how she wore her jeans; it was just that Raika had never seen a woman wear trousers at The Lodge.
However this woman seemed at ease, her hands in her pockets.
“So this is the CSL stable,” she said at last.
“Er, yes, Mistress,” Raika stuttered, utterly puzzled by this stranger and wondering if she should ring the house for help.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said, holding out her hand for Raika to shake. “I’m Doctor Sands. Chrissie Sands. And you must be Raika.”
Raika shook her hand, another strange experience for her. The doctor’s hand was firm and strong and Raika felt almost as if she was in the presence of a man, so calm and assured was this woman in a place where other women were mere slaves to a greater or lesser degree.
“And this must be the famous Ayesha.” The doctor’s eye had fallen on the slave who had come to the full reach of her chain and was looking over her stall door. Chrissie Sands walked over to her and Raika noted a very inviting sway to her generous hips as she did so. The jeans might be trousers but what they were covering was all woman.
“She is a beautiful beast isn’t she?” the doctor said, leaning over the stall door and stroking Ayesha’s proudly out-thrust breasts.
“I’ve just started work up at the house, helping Madame with the Housegirls,” the woman went on. “Just patching up some needle play and some whip cuts. The rest of the time, I’m going to be vet to this lot of beauties.”
Suddenly it all became clear to Raika. There had been talk of a new doctor for the Housegirls and a vet for the stables, so that was who this handsome woman was.
“I haven’t seen the grounds yet,” the doctor went on. “How about you harness this gorgeous creature and take me for a spin.” She slid back the bolt on the door and went into the stall. “I’ll fetch her out, you get the trap and harness. Does she kick or bite?”
Raika was quite breathless but was already hurrying to obey orders. “She hasn’t with me, Mistress!” she called back, and hoped that Ayesha would behave, for her own sake. She suspected that the doctor was quite capable of wielding a crop hard enough to keep any slave ‘honest’.
By the time Raika had pulled the two seater trap out of the shed and collected the studded tack – she had a feeling the doctor wouldn’t settle for anything less – Ayesha was standing in the middle of the stableyard and the doctor was examining her, kneading her thighs and back, digging her hands deep into the large breasts, parting the buttocks and peering at the anus.
“They take quite a lot up the rectum, I hear,” she said. “I’ll need to do internals on all of them make sure they’re all okay. But this one can wait until the others are all back,” the doctor continued in her brisk manner as Raika began to lay out the harness and buckle it on.
The doctor whistled in admiration at the polished studs and how snugly the dildo and butt plug slid home and at how little Ayesha pranced when the crupper strap was pulled hard up between her labia and dug into her buttock crease.
“Doesn’t she look wonderful!” she cooed when at last Ayesha was bridled, the bit through her tongue ring, her high collar making her look even taller than she was and her studded tit straps making her eyes bright in between her embossed blinkers. Raika felt her familiar pride in a well turned out pony and revelled in the further admiring noises the doctor made as she tapped Ayesha up to a walk and then a trot along the lime avenue, her superb buttocks shivering and trembling at each step, her strong back flexing as the whip leisurely carved dusky pink lines across it.
“We’ll go right down to the gates, Mistress and then we’ll come back up the far side of the golf course. That way you get a good view of the house and it’s a pleasant trot through the woods and round the lake.”
“Sounds fine to me,” the doctor said and sat back, luxuriating in the sunlight flickering through the branches of the lime trees. Raika smiled as she felt the woman’s hand on her thigh.
“I like having a pretty little thing like you call me ‘Mistress.’”
Half way along the drive they met one of the members driving one of the Housegirls on pony duty. They waved in greeting as they passed in a pleasing cacophony of clopping steel shod sandals, jingling harness and rumbling wheels.
They followed a smooth but unmade track along the high wall that marked the western boundary of the parklands and which skirted the golf course, pausing to let Ayesha blow for a while when they met a foursome on the fifth tee. They were waiting for the four ball ahead to play on and were passing the time by having one of the Housegirls with them strung up her wrists from a tree branch and flogged. She looked very pretty as she hung in just her high heels and her hold up stockings. Her bottom was already thoroughly welted but she was still capable of wriggling nicely. Around her the other men in the group were enjoying the other girls. The flagellator was clearly sporting an iron hard erection but was reluctant to take down a girl clearly good for plenty more lashes. He turned to the doctor.
“Mind if I borrow little Raika there, doctor? Just need a bit of oral relief.”
Raika was perfectly used to being made use of and was about to dismount when the doctor put a hand on her thigh again.
“I’m sorry, General,” she told the man. “I’ve got her booked for the day.”
“My apologies,” the General said. “I’ll just have to take this one down.”
“No, you’re alright, John,” another of the men called out. “I’ve finished with Zoe and she can take another mouthful.”
With Ayesha’s breathing back to a more regular rate, Raika whipped her up again and they left the men with Zoe kneeling in front of the General and the hanging girl duly getting her full ration.
“She’ll be in surgery tomorrow,” the doctor sighed as the trap swung on its way. Raika glanced down at the doctor’s strong hand still resting on her thigh, just below where the short skirt ended.
“Do you want to stop somewhere, Mistress?” Raika asked.
The doctor sat up and looked ahead. “There’s some trees up ahead away from the golf course. Pull in there.”
Raika pulled Ayesha off the track and whipped her straining back as she struggled up a slight incline, the trap wagging behind her as she pushed hard with each leg. But once in the shade of a giant cedar, Raika unhitched her, put a hobble chain round her ankles and tied her reins to a low branch. From the small trunk behind the seat she took a blanket and spread it for them on the dry ground just beneath the outer edge of the spreading branches. From this slight rise they had a perfect view of the gothic splendour of The Lodge itself and of the ornamental lake and parklands away to their left.
“Perfect!” the doctor proclaimed. “Now come and lie here. I want to see if you’re as pretty under that tempting little uniform as you are over it.”
Completely swept away by the woman’s easy self assurance – she had never heard a woman countermand a man’s order – Raika went to her with no compunction.
Immediately she lay down the doctor pulled her to her and embraced her, pushing her onto her back. Raika felt her lip
s touch and tease her own, then gently press home a kiss so sensitive that she moaned in delight even as she opened her mouth and felt the doctor’s tongue questing inside. Symbolically she let her own tongue rest at the bottom of her mouth, allowing the doctor to have full access. It was what she did with the men, telling them that she was ready and willing to be penetrated anywhere they wanted.
The doctor clearly got the message and passed her hand inside Raika’s blouse, gently massaging the breast and pulling and twisting at the nipple just enough to have Raika reach up and dare to embrace the doctor in her turn. She parted her thighs and felt the roughness of the doctor’s jeans against her skin as the woman rolled further onto her, ducking her head to lick and kiss Raika’s neck. Doctor Sands was every bit as accomplished a lesbian lover as Patti was and Raika arched her back, begging her to feel her other breast. The doctor used her other hand, so that her full weight rested on Raika and her breasts were trapped between their bodies as her hands crushed the nipples, suddenly cruel. Raika gasped in pleasure and wrapped her legs around her new lover.
The doctor suddenly rolled off her and Raika felt her hand reach down, fumble briefly with the skirt and then her strong fingers were pushing up into her vagina. They parted and turned and twisted expertly until she was crying out in abandoned pleasure.