Last Slave Standing

by Sean O'Kane

  Blondie looked up at the owners’ box. Her breath rasped and scorched in her throat, her legs would barely support her, she could taste blood from a split lip and she could feel more trickling down across her buttocks. Her breasts pounded and ached, her joints protested from several sessions on the rack and her nipples were stinging from the scraping they had had on the hard earth and the studs. But she felt thrillingly alive. And up there, right at the limits of her exhausted vision, she finally found what she was looking for; a stocky dark-haired figure looking down at her and smiling. Blondie let the dark close over her.

  Chapter 25

  A week later she examined her reflection in the mirror as Patti carefully brushed out her hair. She was sitting on the low stool in her stall, naked and with her hands clipped behind her as ever. One eye was still slightly closed, her lips were still fatter than normal, her chest and breasts carried the scabs from the punctures sustained on the cross and the rack but all in all she was well on the road to recovery. That morning had seen her trot gingerly on the lunge rein and her joints had felt worryingly stiff but the new vet had declared that a few severe sessions on a rack would do that to even the fittest slave and that she would be fine in a few weeks’ time.

  Behind her Patti was whistling softly as she worked and Blondie felt supremely relaxed and happy. Her master had told everyone how proud he was of her and she could want for nothing more. He fed her her favourite biscuits every day and Patti took her into the horsebox each afternoon for a long session with a strap-on where the others couldn’t see and get jealous.

  Suddenly Patti finished with her hair and leaned over her to replace the brush, Blondie felt her breasts soft against her shoulder.

  “Now then,” she said soflty, “let’s get you looking halfway decent, Blondie. You’re on show tonight!”

  Blondie watched as the Scotswoman picked up her lipstick, the pale coral colour that suited her complexion so well, and began to apply it. She pouted obediently and tried not to show any disappointment that she was only on show that night. Hair brushed till it was shining and make up usually meant she was in for a night of prolonged sex torment and use in a dungeon. But if her master wanted to display her, then so be it.

  Patti skilfully thickened her eyelashes and added just a touch of liner, applied lip gloss and a light dusting of blusher to her cheeks before clipping her tongue leash on and urging her to her feet. Then she tapped her left leg and Blondie obediently raised it behind her to have a high-heeled, steel-shod sandal fitted and buckled on as Patti bent down from beside her. Then the other foot was shod and Patti led her out and across the floor to her own cupboard and opened the door fully so that Blondie could see her whole reflection in the mirror on the inside of it. And while Patti fussed and fiddled with some things inside, Blondie took advantage of the uncommon opportunity to examine her whole body. It bore its recent scars well, she thought, and she longed for Carlo to lie with her and dig his fingers into her welts and scars as he fucked her to the stars and back. She tossed her head as the thought sent tingles of hot excitement spearing through her and stamped one foot.

  Patti shushed her and pulled her tongue leash hard so that she was forced to look at what she had been doing. There was a range of rosettes laid out for her to wear and at the end of the line she recognised the medal that had been pinned onto her breast once she had come round after winning the Last Slave Standing challenge. Patti looped her leash round a hook and took up an inch long steel needle in one hand and a rosette in the other.

  Half an hour later Blondie took another look at her reflection when her leash was unfastened. In a line stretching from between her breasts down to just above her labial split she wore a multi-coloured cascade of colour from where Patti had taken pinch after pinch of skin and carefully pierced it before tucking the point of each pin back into the rosette. On her right breast she proudly carried four more rosettes. They ranged from ‘Best in Show’ for grooming and presentation at the start of shows to wins in dressage team and individual events and chariot racing.

  Patti stood back and admired her handiwork.

  “Okay,” she said approvingly. “And now for the piece de resistance!”

  She bent her head and Blondie sighed in delight as she felt her tongue lick and stroke the nipple into even harder erection. She knew what was coming and let her thoughts dwell on the shiny needle to harden the nipple up even more. Patti lifted her head and laughed throatily, then held the temptingly fat, red tube between thumb and forefinger, stretching it out away from her body and Blondie watched with calm pleasure as the bright steel, with one end already passed through the ribbon, pressed hard and then harder and she winced slightly at the sharp pain that burned into her as the needle broke through. There were the seconds of strangeness as the metal was slowly eased through her flesh – she knew that nothing should be hurried; a slave should experience and appreciate fully everything that is done to her in her master’s name – then there came the second lance and the sight of the flesh straining and finally yielding as the needle emerged. Patti tucked it back into the ribbon and there it was. The gold medal for the first LSS – as it was already becoming known. Blondie looked at herself in purest delight as Patti took a tissue and wiped a few specks of blood off her. The medal dangled and swung and flashed with every movement, the figure embossed on it, a slave tethered to a post and looking with nervous anticipation over her shoulder, summed up for her the arena slave’s condition.

  Patti led her around for a few turns of the stable, just to let her get used to the tugs of the needles and the weight of the medal and then led her out and up to the big house.

  There were lights and crowds, smells of rich drinks, richer food and expensive cigars. There were beautiful Housegirls in their long evening dresses and Lodge members in dinner jackets but as usual she let it all drift past her. The intrigued hands lifting and examining her rosettes and ribbons, weighing her medal and laughing as the pin pulled and distorted the nipple and breast, all meant nothing to her. Blondie only had eyes for her master and eventually he came to her and took the leash from Patti’s hand. Proudly he led her through the crowd and she came behind equally proud and docile, her whole attention focussed on every nuance of his expressions until at last he led her out of the house and back towards the stables. However he didn’t take her there, instead he took her into the horsebox parked inside the training stadium. Once there he had her lie on her back in one of the stalls and she watched him in the dim light as he stepped out of his clothes and then knelt to free her hands. She felt his strong thighs press against the insides of hers and she lifted her legs to open herself for him as he leaned forwards and slowly settled his weight on her torso, she moaned in pleasure at the discomfort he caused her and heard him sigh in delight as he penetrated her and crushed her piercings down onto her. He began to move backwards and forwards, slowly savouring her body and rasping her breasts up and down as he did so. Her arms encircled her master and she clasped him to her, ecstatic at the casual way he took his pleasure in her passionately-offered pain.

  “She should go to auction. We can’t trust the silly little bitch any more!” Carlo paced up and down behind his desk. In front of it and ranged to either side sat Brian, Patti, Chrissie Sands and John Carpenter.

  What to do with Raika was exercising everyone. Carlo was dead set on getting rid of her and John was inclined that way as well, The Lodge itself had had security problems over the years. Only Patti and Chrissie sided with the little Indian groom, still languishing in the cells a fortnight after the Last Slave Standing challenge. Brian just couldn’t make up his mind, although Amelia was threatening dire consequences if she was sold.

  “Carlo, you know that up until Sir John got his claws into the poor thing, she was as good a groom as money could buy,” Patti protested.

  “But can we ever trust anyone who is so stupid as to actually believe anything that man said?” John wanted to know.

  “Yes, I think you can,” Chrissie s
aid. “I’ve spent time talking to her and she’s told me pretty well her entire life story. I know why the bastards were able to manipulate her and she knows now she’s been a fool. If it helps, I’ll stand guarantor for her future good behaviour. But don’t sell her, please.”

  All eyes were on Carlo. John might be a partner but when it came to the day to day running of the stable, it was Carlo’s baby.

  “Brian? What to you reckon?” he asked.

  There was a further long silence.

  “We’d have to look a long way to find anyone better with the stock, and probably have to pay through the nose when we found her. If Chrissie’ll stand guarantor, I say we give her a chance.”

  “Very well,” Carlo stopped pacing and resumed his seat. “But she needs to understand that she belongs here and nowhere else, so after her sentence is carried out, I will see to it that if her brand doesn’t remind her where her loyalties lie, she carries something that will. And if you, Doctor, want to stand as guarantee that she will behave, you must carry out the punishment.”

  Everyone turned to Chrissie who swallowed nervously but squared her shoulders defiantly. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  Sentence was carried out on a rainy day a week later. In the old stableyard, partly enclosed by The Lodge itself a gibbet was set up and the shivering slave was manacled beneath its beam with her hands raised and fastened to one ring so that she could twist and twirl to her heart’s content and the spectators’ pleasure but not escape one iota of her due punishment.

  Her sentence was to spend an afternoon undergoing a full body whipping in three separate stages. First she was to take a flogger with heavy suede tails, second would come a heavy strap and lastly was a wickedly long length of oiled hide. There were no set number of lashes, Chrissie would simply have to administer the flogging with all her strength until Carlo called a halt. After a rest, and most likely some attention from some of the male onlookers, the next stage would commence at Carlo’s discretion. If at any time he felt that Chrissie was going easy on her little lover, he would call a foul stroke and it would be taken again.

  Brian had had Chrissie practising on Ox all week to make sure that the punishment was delivered professionally and efficiently.

  Raika’s flesh quivered and shone in the light drizzle as she steadied herself, legs apart and back well hollowed to give her audience a good sight of her prettily neat and plump cunt.

  “Begin,” Carlo called simply.

  Chrissie began by lashing the buttocks and instantly the tails raised a spray of rain. Raika responded immediately and much more emphatically than normal, the wet and the chill making the leathers’ bite more spiteful. She snapped her pelvis forwards and half turned so that the second lash caught her across her hips and the ends of the tails foraged towards her crotch. She spun back and cried out as she met the next lash across her stomach. Doctor Sands took a break for a few seconds to let her victim settle and then began again.

  Slowly the time passed and the onlookers came and went as the doctor plied the whip with tight lipped determination, Raika spun and howled and Carlo watched dispassionately. At length, when her normally honey-gold skin was blushing almost all over her and her breasts were quivering as she fought for breath, he called the first section of her punishment over.

  At once several Lodge members formed a queue and the gasping, slight figure of the groom was soon being rocked forwards on her feet as she hung on grimly to her chain with her small hands as one after another they sampled her depths and played with her scored breasts as they waited for their pleasure to overcome them.

  Chrissie Sands tersely asked if Carlo had any objections to her taking a quick break before the second part began and he said he had none. She walked slowly out of the courtyard as the sounds of Raika’s orgasms began to echo round it, turned right and found Patti waiting beside the path leading to the training stadium. Quickly both women stepped under the shelter of a tree, Patti urgently flung her arms around Chrissie whilst the doctor’s hand went straight up under Patti’s skirt. The Scotswoman sighed as she felt the fingers inside her.

  “How’s she doing?” she asked.

  “Christ! She looks so fuckable when I’m whipping her! Now get down and tongue me you whore.”

  Patti reluctantly dropped to her knees, bidding farewell to the fingers in her cunt. Chrissie unzipped her trousers and pushed them down, she was not wearing any knickers and Patti was able to get her tongue straight at the clitoris as Chrissie peeled back the hood to help her. She tasted tangily of excitement as Patti sucked at the swollen nub, but that was hardly surprising, Raika was a beautiful sight under punishment. Chrissie reached down and crushed her face to her groin. Patti redoubled her efforts and her mouth began to fill with the strong tasting juices as the soft labial flesh parted before her rasping tongue. Above her the doctor sighed, went rigid and slammed her pelvis against Patti’s face again and again as a rush of thick spend filled Patii’s mouth. Then she was pushed away and the doctor pulled her trousers up hurriedly.

  “Wait here. I’ll need you again after I’ve finished with the strap,” she snapped and hurried away.

  Patti watched her go, then lifted her skirt and began to masturbate.

  Raika had recovered a little when Chrissie returned and as soon as she saw her, she resumed her proper stance of hollowed back and spread legs to receive her next tranche. Her inner thighs were shining with more than mere water however, and Carlo decreed that the first ten strokes from the strap should be to her cunt in order to clean it out. Chrissie obeyed and snapped the heavy leather upwards with an ease that Ox had suffered for days on end to achieve. Raika went onto tip toe and yelped at each lash before settling back into her rhythm of twisting and hopping as the lash was applied to her back, shoulders and breasts. She was beginning to tire however and Chrissie had to take fewer pauses for her to settle as her movements became less frantic.

  By the time Carlo pronounced the second section complete, Raika’s hide was still blushing from the flogger but now the strap had overlaid that with wide streaks of red with small craters in places where the tip had bitten in especially hard. These seemed to cluster around her breasts and upper ribs, as though her flagellator had been trying especially hard to make the pretty breasts dance and swing.

  Again there were many men who required relief after the prolonged beating and Chrissie again asked to take a break.

  “Sure,” Carlo said, smiling. “And tell Patti I want her here for the last part.”

  Under a brightening sky and with Patti kneeling before Carlo, holding his erect cock in one hand as she licked it slowly, Raika underwent her final beating. She did little other than register each biting lash from the long, shining length of deceptively soft hide by tossing her head and Chrissie had to shift her position several times in order to keep it a full body whipping. Even lashes to the lacerated breasts produced no more than long groans and throaty growls. Carlo prescribed some uppercuts and for a while they seemed to stimulate her enough for the onlookers to see her achieve an exhausted climax before lapsing back into her torpor. Chrissie was ordered to halt for a moment while Carlo had Patti take him into her mouth properly until he came. Every one waited while he finished thrusting himself at her mouth and then the whipping resumed. But it was only for a few minutes and then she was finally taken down.

  Chrissie checked her over as she lay on the cobbles and then she and Patti helped her away.

  An hour later she was restrained on the couch in the stable’s dungeon, her legs raised and parted but also with her thighs pushed back until they nearly brushed her breasts.

  Brian gazed down on the deliciously flogged body with both its nether entrances displayed in total vulnerability.

  Carlo’s fingers worked skilfully, teasing the labia out and pushing the gutter bladed piercing tool through each and dragging it back pulling the opened ring. Raika summoned up enough energy to gasp and shake at each insertion but not enough to disturb the procedure and soon sh
e was equipped with two rings in her right labial lip, and two in her left. However the front ring on the left lip had hanging from it a heavy gold tag with the CSL logo engraved on one side and on the other the legend ‘Property of the CSL stable’.

  She was helped to her feet once the procedure was complete and the rings were closed. She took a few wide legged steps and Brian, Patti and Chrissie admired the way the tag pulled one lip down noticeably as it swung beneath her. Holding onto the side of a whipping frame with one hand, Raika herself craned her head down to look and to cradle the heavy gold tag she now wore. Then she looked up and smiled.

  “I am home now,” she said. “I belong.”

  Epilogues

  “I need to talk to you, sir,” Patti said, peering round Carlo’s office door. He sat back. “What about?”

  “There’s trouble among the grooms – and if I’m honest I’m not happy either.”

  “Anything a good flogging won’t cure?”

  Patti smiled. “That could form part of the answer. But really it’s about Raika again.”

  Carlo frowned and stood up. “What’s she been up to now and where’s Doctor Sands?”