Blonde Fury II

by Sean O'Kane

  “I’m going to give you another thirty before I fuck you,” he told her. She made no response, but then why would she? Undergoing beatings, sex torture, being fucked and orgasming or not, depending on the Master’s wishes were what she was for. The great thing was that now he knew that she knew that it was her nature. It wasn’t being dictated to her by an electronic implant. It had been a long time since he had thrashed a fully willing and unadulterated slave and he found he was enjoying it immensely.

  He really threw himself into delivering the thirty promised lashes and the woman’s buttocks rippled and swayed beautifully, only towards the end did sombre purple lines show how hard she had been beaten. And the only noise she made were soft cries of orgasm right at the end.

  He had her rim him again before he laid her on her back and took her, sliding his cock into the welcoming heat and moistness of her vagina. And as he began to move in her, clawing his hands tightly into her flogged bottom as he did so to make her arch up and give him a better ride, he realised that while she was definitely a bit thicker in the waist and a bit more fleshy than his newer acquisitions, she was a real woman and actually very comfortable to lie on. She might not be a girl any more, but she was accommodating, knowledgeable, servile and tough. She knew exactly what he liked and lived to give it to him. In short she would not only be a useful addition to the younger slaves, she would teach them how to be like her. She and the other one, recovering from her beatings. Other slaves would go the same way as they grew older and society would find a use for them.

  When he had finished pumping his spend into her, he watched as, without needing to be told, she knelt beside him with her thighs spread. Carefully she explored inside herself, extracting every drop of his ejaculation and licking it off her fingers. When she was quite sure she had collected every trace she bent forwards and licked his softening cock until it too was thoroughly cleaned, then she moved to the foot of the bed and settled herself across it, ready to respond to a foot in the ribs if she was needed in the night. Once she was in place, Clive lay back and prepared for sleep. It had been an excellent day!

  The other one’s chip was removed in the morning and he had them both stand behind his chair with clamps attached to their nipples and the short chains that joined the clamps were held in each woman’s teeth so that their nipples were yanked up hard against the weight of their breasts. Then he made video calls to various arena owners and other wealthy slave owners, telling them that they had been unchipped and could still be trusted to be obedient, which opened up new possibilities because they still orgasmed under mistreatment but didn’t seem to be so desperately addicted. He told them that he intended, once their tongue rings were removed, to allow them clothes and to send them on errands and to start trusting them to carry out instructions without being overseen. So from now on, as a slave aged, her usefulness and value would merely change, it wouldn’t disappear. To underline his point about their obedience he made them keep the chains tight between their teeth for a full hour. They managed it without coming.

  However, other slave owners were not so happy. Not many miles away from the Prime Minister’s retreat, Brian and Peter were taking part in a holo-conference. They were in Peter Lang’s office at The Lodge, it was late in the evening and Peter was attended by one of the Housegirls – a dark haired Mediterranean beauty who knelt beside him, her breasts offered up over the low cut bodice of her uniform. The night was a crisp autumn one and a fire had been lit, throwing flickering shadows into corners beyond the bright holographic images of arena owners from around the world. Further light came from a candle that Peter was holding and occasionally tilting over the girl’s breasts, making her bite her lip so she didn’t interrupt his thinking while the gentle swells of her breasts were slowly covered with a shiny scarlet coating. He might want to whip it off later; she could only hope and keep as still as she could in the meantime.

  Brian had Martha with him and she was sitting just out of shot, so the others couldn’t see that his hand was gently stroking her between her legs. His fingers were trailing up and down the length of her lips, occasionally pushing between them but making no attempt to penetrate her with any real intent. She recognised the signs of his being deep in thought and kept herself still and available for him.

  One of the holographs was showing footage from a show staged between the Proteus stable and the Bengal Tigers. There hadn’t been a Demolition Derby added to the end of the games so Ace had been fielded in the individual pony racing, the boxing, the wrestling and the pursuit running and had featured prominently in the finale. What was concerning everyone was that whenever the cameras panned around the crowd, it was clear that it was an unusually subdued one.

  Even when the two hundred and more naked girls, tore into each other out on the sun-bleached sand of the arena floor until the men were sent out to enjoy those left standing, where there was normally an unrestrained orgy on the terraces, here there was rapt attention but very little sex. Even when the men stalked, teased, then finally fucked and flogged the exhausted girls into complete inertia - all covered in loving close-ups on the giant screens, there was relatively little action of any kind on the terraces.

  The last girl to go down was Ace. Again.

  As Anil Murti, the Bengals’ owner observed; “She’s been the last slave down for the last three games she’s been in. People expect it now! Let me show you what happened earlier.”

  There were subdued nods from the other owners. Murti replayed one of the boxing bouts. Ace looked magnificent in her leather corset with the small steel circles on it where the tines were embedded, ready to dig in if she was punched. The trouble was that she was hardly ever touched. They watched her put into a cage with an olive skinned beauty whose breasts overflowed her corset and rippled enticingly with her every move.

  “She’s experienced, this one,” Murti told them. “Unbeaten in her last twelve bouts.”

  They watched quietly as the two girls circled each other warily, then the Tigers’ girl made the first swing, the weighted straps at her fists making the blow look slow – but if it connected, the studs in the corset of the recipient would make it telling indeed. The girl put her whole weight behind the punch, leaning forward with her legs spread for balance. They watched as the tall brunette swayed back, letting the fist slip past her stomach and then leaned in almost lazily to bring her fist up between the Tigers’ girl’s legs. A hoarse roar of pain escaped her as the studded thong was dug into the soft labial flesh. She crouched down cupping her groin and staggered away from Ace, who was experienced enough to know that this was too soon to finish the bout and so didn’t follow up her advantage too quickly. The Tigers’ girl was certainly tough and came back from what might have been a knockout blow. She came forward once more, keeping a wary distance this time. Ace took her time and when she saw her chance she feinted with her right fist, making her opponent dodge to the left and dug a straight left jab into her torso, just below the breasts. The girl was knocked back and immediately covered up but Ace just dug in a couple to either side of her ribs where there weren’t any studs and stood back. The girl straightened up again and circled warily once more. Ace feinted again. This time she shot out a right towards the girl’s crotch. With a shriek of anticipated pain the girl covered up but Ace took a step to the side and dug a punch in that slipped through her guard from the right and took the side of the right breast. The girl staggered away again and this time Ace followed, swinging lefts and rights to the breasts, making them ripple and flatten as the tines dug into them. The girl was blinded by the speed of the punches and although she tried to swing, Ace just knocked her fists away and carried on. Soon the girl was backed up against the bars of the cage and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Ace simply went lower. The girl lowered her guard and just shipped more breast punishment instead. She raised it again and took a pummelling to her stomach. She began to slide down the bars, spreading her legs as she did so.

  Ace swung an uppercut to the cr
otch again and the girl yelled and straightened as if she had been hit by an electric shock, then she grabbed a handful of hair and led the wobbly legged girl out into the centre of the cage, made a big show of winding up her left fist but instead flung the girl into the opposite bars. She managed to turn and take the impact on her back but it knocked the wind out of her and she staggered back into the centre where she met another perfectly timed uppercut.

  Ace stood back and watched calmly as she collapsed to her knees and then toppled slowly forwards and lay still.

  “Two minutes,” Morti said gloomily. “I hardly had time to get my hand up the bitch I was with!”

  “But you can’t blame her,” Brian put in. “She could have finished it even quicker but she did play with her for a bit.”

  “She won two more bouts at boxing and three at wrestling. Total cage time, eight minutes,” Morti went on, hammering home his point. “We have a real problem here! People are getting bored with seeing her win!”

  Another scene came on the holograph and they watched the tall, lithe figure spring from the starting gate in the pursuit running. Her long legs effortlessly ate up the ground, even her sizeable breasts swinging freely on her chest couldn’t unbalance her or diminish her grace. She eased herself round the central fence as the horse and rider pursuing her huffed and snorted and skidded after her, having given her a start of half a lap. As the rider closed with her and attempted to bring her down with his whip, she feinted and dodged and spooked the horse, even allowing herself to take some lashes and shrug them off. She made a record breaking seventeen laps before the rider, leaning sideways from his saddle, managed to wrap the bull hide whip around her lower legs and bring her down, her body rolling in the dust as the horse was reined in and the rider, furious and embarrassed leapt down.

  Traditionally the slave was his to do with as he chose once she was down. Usually this meant he would take her in one way or another, but it seemed this rider had known who he was up against and had come prepared. He unshipped a flogger from his belt, and grabbing a handful of hair he yanked her to her knees and began to belabour her back and breasts. Ace made no move to struggle, just clung onto the hand gripped in her hair to ease that pain at least.

  Oddly there seemed to be a rise in the crowd noise as the not-strictly-legal beating went on. The cameras closed in on her breasts as they shook under the lash, the leather tails fanning out across the tanned breastflesh. The crowd’s cheering was now suddenly audible and seemed to spur the rider on. Gradually he began to speed up the lashes until he threw her down onto her face and stood over her in a sort of frenzy, raining down lashes on her prone body until it became clear from the sensual undulations that she was coming. Only then did he recover his senses enough to haul her back to her knees, free his cock and ram it into her open mouth. He gave her no chance to regain her breath but plunged in as far as she could take him. The cameras followed her choking and gasping as the huge shaft stretched her lips wide and the crowd cheered him on as he fucked her face ruthlessly and finally pulled out to spill the last of his come on her cheeks and forehead. Then he threw her back down and walked off, acknowledging the thunderous applause.

  Neil Consadine, one of the owners of Ace’s stable spoke. “We made no formal complaint because the crowd loved every second of it and it did her no harm.”

  “No,” Morti added bitterly. “She went on to win the pony racing the same day!”

  Peter Lang had been sitting quietly, absent mindedly adding to the bright red coating of hot wax on his girl’s tits, now he blew the candle out and gave the meeting his full attention. “I think the problem is that she is even better than her mother was.”

  There was a general nodding of heads.

  “And what’s more,” he went on, “when her mother was around it was a golden age for arena slaves. There was Snake, Ayesha, Angel, Jet. Even if some of them did end up in the CSL stable alongside her, it was no foregone conclusion that it would be Blondie who would win if Jet or Ayesha were running.”

  There were more gloomy nods.

  “Remember the Last Slave Standing fight between Blondie and Snake?” another owner asked. The rest sighed as they recalled the epic bout and how both slaves had dragged themselves to their feet time and again after undergoing everything their Masters could throw at them. The crowd had gone mad encouraging both girls on, desperate to see how much more they could take. And the outcome had been in the balance for a long time.

  “How about handicapping her? Thrashing her at the start of each day, maybe?” someone suggested.

  Neil snorted angrily and the Countess de Goncourt – owner of the Girl Squad - stepped in smartly. “It wouldn’t work. The punters are fine watching any of them get thrashed but if it’s going to affect the odds, you’ll have a riot on your hands. And anyway it’s the spectacle of the girls really fighting hard they want.”

  Brian sat forward suddenly. “Give me any more names of slaves who could give Blondie a run for her money,” he said.

  “Those big blondes could give her a fight if they came up against her. Ox and Trouble I think Carlo called them,” Osman, the owner of one of the Turkish stables put in.

  “And Cherry was no slouch over short distances in pony sprints,” someone else suggested.

  “I remember that little gypsy one - El Tigre – she took Blondie all the way in a studded whip duel once. God, I remember the state the two of them were in by the time Tigre went down for the last time!” another one added.

  “Anyone see the common denominator?” Brian asked.

  The countess smiled. “Of course! Apart from Snake and my Angel, they were all CSL stock!”

  “Exactly,” Brian said smugly. “You used to hire them from us because they all had specialities – apart from Blondie who could do pretty well anything. And we trained them to go the whole way even if they were up against another girl from CSL itself. But nowadays you’ve all got so many squad girls you just throw them at each other and it doesn’t matter if they’re any good or not, so long as they’re all about the same standard, because the punters just like close contests. So when you get one like Ace who’s a natural talent and who stands out, there’s no one who can come close to her in any discipline and you get bored crowds!”

  “So we pay you all the money we got to train up some more?” chuckled an Indonesian owner.

  “He’s right!” Neil Consadine put in. “Maybe we ought to go back to training up specialists. Maybe we’ve lost sight of good sport in the quest for mass spectacle.”

  “Ok, Brian. What exactly do you suggest?” the countess asked.

  “Well I’ve got forty slaves in training for eight different stables. Fifteen of them I’ve got stabled because I think they’ve got some talent. Let me sift through all of the current intake for ability and I’ll return any that will only ever be squad material. The ones I’ve already singled out I’ll keep and tell their owners so we can sort out a new agreement. Then I’ll let you all know how many places I’ve got for any stock you think has got the makings of a star performer! Carlo always said the arenas would get too big one day. You’ve got your work cut out feeding, housing, training, disciplining over a hundred slaves, you turn out good squads ok, but what we all need is a small stable that can work on an individual slave to develop her to her best. Then you guys can hire her in as you need her, just like you used to. At the same time, if you find you’ve got a talent in a batch you buy in; fine. Get her to us for training, so you can get on with squad training, and when she’s ready she’ll compete in your colours. That way you won’t squander talent by hiding it in amongst all your other slaves. Give me six months and some luck at the auctions and I bet I can deliver a real fight for Ace. ” Brian’s passionate outburst brought silence for a few moments.

  “I think you might have a good point,” the countess admitted eventually. “After all, I didn’t know Angel’s true potential until Peter spotted it at The Lodge and brought it out.”

  After that the d
iscussion went on for some time. Some owners were less than happy at letting CSL regain its status as the ‘Stable of the Stars’, but it made good sense for it to go back to concentrating on developing individual talent – even if it was for a price - and then returning it to its owner at each games, or buying in livestock that could be hired out once it was trained up. And anyway, another similar stable could always be set up in competition.

  Neil Consadine came in on CSL’s side and challenged the owners to think of one of their slaves that they could confidently field against privately owned and individually trained entrants in the upcoming Open pony races.

  Eventually Brian’s idea was agreed to and he undertook to let all the stables know about CSL’s change of policy. As the screens went blank, Peter Lang took a long swig of his favourite Scotch and sat back.

  “I think Carlo left CSL in good hands,” he said at last.

  Brian and Martha walked back from the big house to the CSL stable slowly. The night was crisp and clear and their feet crunched on fallen leaves as they walked along the path through the woods.

  “We’ve got enough money in the bank to return all the current inmates who aren’t ever going to be stars and go out and buy our own stock again. We’ll convert the barracks into more stables as we need them. Most of the guards will have to be laid off, but they’ll find work with other stables alright. Raika will need some new grooms, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it…”