Blonde Fury II

by Sean O'Kane

  “You cannot keep your hands off Lightning can you?”

  Asil knelt back up and sobbed and sniffed. “N…no, your Highness.”

  “Very well. I feel sure that her destiny lies in the arenas as well as on the race track and as soon as she has recovered she will begin training. You will go with her as her personal groom.” He held up a hand to forestall Asil’s yelp of surprised delight. “Every punishment she earns in the arena or in training will be visited on you too. You are not chipped, nor are you as naturally talented as she is, so I expect that will ensure you do your best to see to it that White Lightning does not fail her owner.

  “Now the two of you will spend a week recovering in one of the bigger cells – not the solitary ones. Selim will give Ahmet strict instruction to feed and clean you. At the end of a week, Lightning will go to join my squad for basic training, and you, Asil, will serve a week in solitary before you join her.”

  Asil bent forwards over the Prince’s feet again, this time sobbing with gratitude. After a few moments the Prince nudged her towards the door and she stood, flashing Sophie a quick smile before scurrying from the room.

  When she had gone, the Prince came over to the stark bed that Sophie was tied to. Without saying a word he sat beside her and plunged his fingers into her burning and stinging cunt. Sophie yelped in pain and shock but suddenly realised that his fingers had gone straight into her. Despite her bruised, pierced and puffy labia, despite the repeated penetrations it had been subject to, it was still ready to serve. She lifted her head and saw his cock begin to throb, lengthen and stiffen. After only a few more moments of fingering, he swung himself onto the bed and lay full length on top of her. The weight made her arch her burning back up off the wooden bed and he was able to slip his hands around her sides and she gasped as she felt his fingers press into the tender flesh of her back. It took him only a slight upward thrust and he slid into her. She felt him spread her and then, as he moved up her body again, slip further and further into her. It was only when he was uncomfortably lodged against her bruised cervix that he began to fuck her. It hurt but it was heaven, and for once Sophie forgot the overwhelming urge to come herself, and instead concentrated on swivelling her hips up against him to give his cock the most stimulation she could provide as he slid in and out of her. For several minutes they filled the room with soft grunts of effort as they both sought his pleasure and then at last Sophie saw his face soften above her and his head was lowered onto her shoulder and he was ejaculating into her and groaning with the pleasure of each spurt. When he had finished and had rolled off her to stand by the bed, she dared to look up at him – begging with her eyes to be allowed to clean him.

  “Maybe later,” he said and turned away to go to his bed.

  During the night he came to her in the dark and as she struggled awake, knelt across her chest, parting his thighs to lower himself as far as he could. Then he grasped the back of her head with one hand and with the other bent the shaft of his cock down. Holding her head up at an uncomfortable angle for her he stuffed himself into her mouth. Sophie had dreamed of the moment when her owner would finally consent to use her mouth again and she had always wanted to take a long time caressing him and ensuring that she gave him the best service she could. She so wanted to curl her tongue lovingly around his long shaft and swallow smoothly when he came. Instead the reality was an uncomfortable shafting in a position that gave her no chance to do anything other than offer him a hole to fill with his spunk. But as soon as she had framed the thought she understood. Of course it was right that he should enjoy her like this. It was his pleasure that mattered. She was a slave and didn’t matter – as Asil had said. Immediately she felt herself moisten and melt with excitement at the careless way in which she was being used. She did her best to swallow when he came but couldn’t help choking a little, but knew that if it had affected his pleasure she would be punished; she would just have to wait and see if she was. She would gladly suffer an unfair beating, it would simply underline how totally she belonged to him. In the dark he sighed in what she hoped was pleasure and climbed off her to return to his bed.

  In the morning, two of the palace slaves turned her onto her face and lubricated her anus so that the Prince could lie on her back and bugger her at his leisure. Again, Sophie did not try and orgasm. She lay and revelled in the feeling of being possessed by him and the feeling of his long shaft spearing deep into her body. It was all the better because it was so sore and because it made not a jot of difference to him how sore it was. She listened for his groan of release and was grateful to have been allowed to serve.

  Stiff, sore and unwashed but deliriously happy, Sophie was led down to the cells where Asil waited. For a whole week they existed in the dusky light from one dirty window but rolled and played on clean sheets until Ahmet came to whip them every morning. Side by side they cried and whimpered and – in Sophie’s case – orgasmed and then played some more until they woke for food.

  At the end of their time together, when the men came for Sophie, she knew that living in the Prince’s service with Asil beside her was the complete package for her. She would give him whatever he asked of her and Asil would be there afterwards. It was perfect. All she had to do now was not fail him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Martha and Brian flew into Bakhtar some weeks later. The Prince had invited them to see something special.

  The initial furore that had surrounded the discovery of White Lightning had eventually died down and now the arena world held its breath to see how Sophie would shape up in the actual arenas. Meanwhile, Ace’s drawing power had returned tenfold. The crowds couldn’t get enough of watching her perform and discussing how she might fare against her half-sister.

  A helicopter met them as they disembarked from the plane and they were whisked straight up country with the Prince at the controls. After half an hour’s flight he brought them down outside the gates of an old fort that could have come straight from the pages of a French Foreign Legion adventure tale. A great wall swept out from, and returned to, a massive rock and the buildings of the fort were carved directly into it. Martha would find that out in due course. For now her eye was caught by the row of cages that hung from gibbets above the crenellations of the wall’s top. They swung in the slight breeze and their chains creaked ominously. But what made her tug Brian’s sleeve urgently was the sight of a naked girl slumped in one, her left leg hung down through the bars of the cage’s floor.

  “Yeah,” Brian said, glancing up. “This is where the Prince’s squad trains. She’ll have done something or other.”

  They went in through the tall iron gates and saw a wide expanse of beaten earth and from one of the doors at the back of the training ground several men were emerging. The Prince introduced the one who led them as Ollie van der Veerhof; his trainer, then he introduced the others. They shook hands all round and Martha’s pulse quickened as she noted the whips stuck in each man’s belt.

  “I couldn’t help noticing, Ollie,” she said as the men began to chat about the ins and outs of training, “that girl up there. What earns a girl a stay in a cage?” She rather liked the idea of a suspension in a cage and was wondering why Brian didn’t use it at home.

  Van der Veerhof looked up and shrugged. “What’s that one up for, Ben?” he asked a lean and rangy Australian.

  “Don’t know, Boss. You told me to put her up last night,” he said.

  Van der Veerhof smiled and shrugged. “With over a hundred of them, you forget! Well, whatever it was, if she’s been up there overnight, I doubt she’ll do it again. It’s gets bloody cold! Bring her down, Ben.”

  There was laughter as the cage was lowered and the guilty party was allowed to crawl out and lap water from a bowl. The trainer explained that it was a better way of taking water in after dehydrating – and it was good for the girls as well. Martha looked at the naked girl, face down in her bowl at the feet of a guard who would probably have her at the first opportunity, and she had t
o agree that it would encourage obedience.

  “My friends,” the Prince began, and Martha drew her attention away. “I’ve asked you here to see how Lightning’s training is going. I owe it to you who forewarned me about her value. We stopped no fewer than three kidnap attempts in those first days, and had I not been alerted, I might have lost her. As it was I kept her busy in some of the deepest cells in the palace and that kept her safe. Now let’s see the demonstration, Ollie, please!”

  Ollie turned and waved. A man had been waiting at one of the doors and he now disappeared.

  The guests were ushered over to a gazebo in whose shade chairs had been set out and in a few minutes ten naked girls were led out onto the sun-baked earth. At the same time, from a nearer door, a familiar, tall blonde one was led out by a stunningly pretty Arab girl who had the blonde’s leash in her hand. The Arab girl was dressed in a simple white, very short tunic dress. Martha approved; the girl had the complexion and figure for it. She crossed her legs to distract herself from thoughts about what lay beneath the dress as the girls approached the Prince, who stood up.

  “Have they both been ringed?” he asked and Ollie clicked his fingers in reply. Both girls obediently opened their mouths and showed the heavy tongue rings that all arena slaves wore. He reached out and hefted the blonde’s heavy breasts, examining the nipples. “Piercings well on their way to healing there. Good! Ollie’s been keeping me briefed over the past month so I’ll ask him to bring you up to date,” he said and resumed his seat, leaving the two girls standing beside him in the full sun. Martha was not surprised by Sophie’s golden tan that had darkened significantly since the Bakhtar race. She also kept her eyes resolutely cast downwards and so avoided Martha’s entirely which left Martha in the dark about whether Sophie remembered her at all.

  “Okay,“ Ollie began. “By tradition, a new squad girl gets the crap beaten out of her by the others until she hardens up. We saw no reason for things to be any different for Lightning. She was in the sick bay two days out of every four to start with, and to be honest, I thought the boss was wasting his time. But then she began to learn the trade and one thing – the great thing – about Lightning is that she just won’t stay down. She just doesn’t know when she’s beaten. These days she can take on three or four squaddies with no problem and we think she’s ready to go for advanced training, but the boss wanted you to see how good she is. I’m putting her in with four today. If she beats those we’ll bring out four more –“

  “The thing is, I wanted you, Brian, to see what Ollie means,” the Prince put in. “Then we’ll move on and I might have an interesting proposition…Carry on, Ollie.”

  While they had been talking, more men had brought out posts and thick ropes and, by driving the posts into holes in the ground, they had created a simple, ground level, boxing or wrestling ring.

  “Lightning will go in empty handed,” the trainer went on. “Two of the other girls will have straps. Every girl that Lightning can put through or over the ropes is out. If Lightning is thrown out, she is allowed to get back in.”

  “Or we’ll flay her!” the Prince added and reached out to pat the tall blonde’s rump.

  Ollie waved the groom and her charge away and everyone sat forwards intently as the blonde’s hands were freed and she climbed into the ring.

  The Prince called a halt half an hour later.

  Lightning was welted from ankles to neck and bleeding from scratches to her face and breasts. At the time he called a halt, she was crouched in a corner and being thrashed by one opponent who had managed to hold onto her whip, but she had got rid of three opponents.

  While Lightning crawled to her corner and lapped water from a bowl her groom gave her, four more girls were led out.

  “Very impressive,” Brian said. “Taking out three and holding off the other one who had a whip. She is something!” They had gasped at the big girl’s speed and agility; the way she had spun, kicked, dodged, thrown and punched, using the very number of her opponents to her advantage and seeming to utterly ignore the lashes she was taking.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet, Brian. This is what I brought you here to show you!” he said and clicked his fingers after checking with Ollie.

  To Brian and Martha’s amazement, the seconds withdrew and the four fresh girls vaulted over the ropes and went straight onto the attack. For the next few minutes Lightning took an awful pounding, was posted time and again, thrown and whipped until she was staggering. Then gradually the ferocity of the attack diminished as the girls tired in the heat, until at last Lightning wiped the blood from her mouth tottered to her feet one more time and from somewhere found the strength to fight back. She wrested the whip from one girl, twisted her arm and threw her through the ropes before her colleagues could react, then used the whip to make herself some space and then simply rushed the nearest girl and pushed her back into the one behind her and while they struggled to disentangle themselves and get back up she delivered three stinging lashes between their wide spread legs. The last girl had been fruitlessly lashing Lightning’s back and was unprepared when Lightning turned, grabbed her whip arm and threw her by it, sending her skidding out under the bottom rope. The other two she was able pick up by their hair, slap their breasts and then apply her foot to their bottoms as they bent over protectively and send them through the middle ropes.

  She collapsed to her knees as the groom rushed in with more water.

  “You see?” the Prince said. “Ollie was right, she’s got some way of just ignoring the punishment she’s taking and waiting for it to stop. Then she gets going again!”

  “Brian,” Ollie put in. “If his Highness goes over to her now and tells her she’s doing well, we can bring on another four and I guarantee she’ll take out two of them before I really will have to call it a day. Want to see it? We’ve done it before.”

  Brian looked over at Martha who was shifting in her seat as she tried to deal with the arousal of watching her Sophie take such a beating and yet keep on getting up. There was something immensely erotic about her determination to keep serving her Master. She nodded.

  They moved out into the sun and approached the ring where the groom was using wipes to try and repair some of the damage to Lightning. They leaned on the ropes above the blonde slave and could see that she really had been through the mill but when she caught sight of the Prince, she got to her feet again and limped over to him before kneeling in front of him.

  “Good girl, Lightning,” he said and tousled her sweat-soaked hair. “You’re doing well today. We’re bringing on a few more opponents for you in a minute. My friends here want to watch you get knocked around and fight for a bit longer.”

  At the mention of the word ‘friends’, Martha thought she caught the faintest flicker of a glance in her direction from Sophie’s one good eye, but it was gone before she could be certain. And in any case the Prince had stretched out his hand and Sophie was kissing it passionately and looking at him with complete adoration until he clicked his tongue and she struggled back up to her feet.

  For Brian, that look had taken him right back to his early days at The Lodge. It was the look of utter devotion that Blondie had given Carlo. He could have told her to get into the ring against four wild horses and she would have. Now Sophie had found her own Master at long last and would serve him with the same devotion.

  The Prince called a halt when the remaining two girls of the next four were kicking and whipping the almost motionless form of Sophie at will. The groom flung some cold water over her and when she had revived a little, the last two girls who had been left standing took it in turns to sit astride the blonde’s face and receive their tribute. Meanwhile the guests were ushered away into the fort itself for a drink. Martha was almost beside herself with mingled anger at the girls and lust for Sophie as her breasts were flattened and rebounded and her buttocks rippled so deliciously as she rolled in the dust beneath the whips and the kicks.

  “How soon will she be good to go
again?” Brian asked Ollie as they walked.

  “Not too long, a couple of days.”

  “I think she should go for advanced training now – studded whips, chariots, solo log pulling and so on,” the Prince said. “Today was really just a bit of fun to show you how well she has come on.”

  They entered a cool, rock hewn chamber, but one which was comfortably furnished and took their seats while a slavegirl served drinks.

  “The thing is, Brian,” the Prince went on once they had all been served. “Ollie has got his hands full here with the squad, and while Mehmet up at the arena is competent enough, Lightning is something special. I have a long association with Peter and with The Lodge and with CSL.” He took a long drink while Brian, his heart pounding, sat and waited for what he hoped he was going to hear. “I want her trained at CSL,” the Prince concluded and laughed at the smile that threatened to split Brian’s face in half. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” he said and held his glass up to propose a toast. “To White Lightning; owned by the Bakhtar stable and trained by CSL. May she be the new Queen of the arenas!”

  They drank to the new queen and when the helicopter took off to fly back to Bakhtar city, it carried a groom who perched on the top of a cage in which Sophie Suarez was locked on all fours.

  The Final Chapter

  It had taken months to negotiate and arrange. It was quite simply the biggest ever games in the era of the Modern Arenas: The Proteus Stable v. The Bakhtar stable and within that contest would be Ace up against Lightning.

  Clive Mostyn had brokered it and put up the prize money so it was being held at a neutral arena in the UK; the East Angels’ arena, not too far north of London. The internet had been abuzz with it ever since it had been confirmed six months previously. At long, long last the half-sisters would battle it out to see which of them would assume their mother’s mantle.