Slave's Honour

by Sean O'Kane

  She felt a huge towering wave of overload build inside her and began to mew around the cock in her mouth in fear of the huge surge of uncontrollable pleasure about to engulf her. Beneath her she felt her breasts swinging, the nipples sending sharp lances of pain into the chaos inside her. It was going to be a brain breaking explosion as she was plugged, screwed, mouth fucked and thrashed into an orgasmic abyss. Only vaguely was she aware of the cock in her cunt beginning to pulse and spurt. She was screaming in release as she bounced from peak to peak of a multiple orgasm as the one in her mouth erupted and spunk seemed to be fountaining over her face even as she swallowed and snorted the stuff. And the strap kept up a relentless rhythm of deafening impacts on the gleaming body of a slave somewhere. Ayesha was only aware of how much she adored the sound of leather on woman as she slowly slid out of consciousness. It didn’t matter a damn to her that it was her own hide that was being thrashed.

  The guests had gone, sleepy and lethargic in the wake of their orgasms, but most importantly

  well-pleased with the show the slaves had put on. As usual the women had been the harshest flagellators. Peter had watched Ayesha flogged practically to the blood by a small Austrian woman whose husband was enjoying her mouth. Their business associate was simultaneously fucking her. Now, as the slaves were released from restraint and suspension, one girl kneeling on the floor and carefully examining the breasts she had been hung from, a proud smile on her face as she traced the grooves the rope had carved, the prince’s household staff began to clear up. The floor was awash with the outpourings of a serious orgy and there were all the implements to clean, sort and put back into neat storage.

  Ayesha was sitting up as he approached, groggily shaking her hair out and rubbing some life back into her wrists and ankles. Miriam was only able to stand by holding onto one of the stakes that had imprisoned her. He breathed deep, the scent of a well-used dungeon was one of his favourites. But his appetites needed constant refreshment and change of diet. Gorgeous though Ayesha was as she tottered to her feet and set about sliding the needles out of her nipples, she would have to go.

  Chapter 11

  Brian arched his back and let out his breath in a long sigh of deep satisfaction. The last spasms of his orgasm ran through him and he thrust himself a few last times at the strong, lithe body under him, then he rolled off Jet, the straw of her stall rustling under him. Beside him he heard her tongue ring click softly against her teeth and her deep breathing as she too recovered from her climax. He put out an arm and stroked her breast sleepily. It would be nice to doze here for a while he thought, it was warm and Jet would be good for a blowjob later on. But he had work to do. Regretfully he patted Jet’s flank and stood up to pull on his clothes, stepping quietly out of her stall and closing the half door behind him. While he was there he had a quick check on the others, the new girl, Trouble, was deeply asleep. She had a big day coming up tomorrow and they would see what they would see at the end of it. The last stall was empty, it was scheduled for his brunette, Purdy, but it would be a while before she was quartered here. Beyond the stalls the little Indian groom had been given her bed. By the moonlight striking down from the window in the end of the stableblock, Brian saw her eyes flick open as soon as he came round the corner of the last stall. She sat up immediately, looking tousled and tempting as the sheet slid down from her prominent breasts. Her big eyes stared at him.

  “The Master wants something? There is something wrong?” she asked quickly.

  In only the few days since they had returned from Salazar’s estate, Raika had impressed everyone with her willingness to work hard, her concern to learn her job and the simple grace with which she gave herself to anyone who wanted her. If Carlo, Brian or any member of The Lodge so much as clicked their fingers, she would immediately give a brilliant smile, flick her little skirt up and make herself available for whatever was wanted. He went to sit on her narrow bed and she scrambled into a kneeling position to make room. He returned her smile and put out a hand to stroke the smooth warmth of her thighs.

  “The Master might want something from you tomorrow,” he said. Her smile widened and she looked down.

  “But now I must get back to work.” He stood up and sighed, resisting the temptation to stroke the soft pubic curls and then slip his fingers into the heat between her thighs.

  “That girl is very stubborn. You should beat her more, master.” Raika told him seriously.

  He smiled. “In due course. Now go back to sleep.”

  He tiptoed out and let the latch fall back quietly behind him on the outside door. Walking quickly then, he made his way through the arch at the back of the yard and from there to the equestrian centre. He had left one of the tall doors ajar and now he slipped back inside and shut it softly. The horsebox that transported the gladiators when the need arose stood just behind him with the tailgate down. In the subdued light shed by a nightlight it was just possible to see the huddled shape of the brunette Carlo had bid for and won.

  On their return the three crated up slaves had been unloaded from the helicopter and with Yuri and Ivan – Madame’s mute Russian assistants helping, he and Carlo had carried them through to the stableyard and unpacked them.

  Perdita had immediately been a complete nightmare. He alone had carried her to one of the stalls in the horsebox and the second he had released her from her hogtie, he had found himself wrestling a spitting, swearing hellcat whom he had had to subdue with surprising force. But eventually he had got her chained by her ankle, collared and fitted with wrist and ankle restraints bearing the CSL initials like all the gladiators. Then he had tried to feed her from his hand. Tomorrow would be the fourth day since they had arrived back and still not a morsel of food had passed her lips. He was determined - and Carlo approved - that when she fed, it would be directly from her master’s hand. She was just as determined that she wouldn’t. Sighing quietly, and well aware that every man in The Lodge was watching him with amused sympathy mixed with outright pity, Brian crept in and settled himself on the sheet-covered straw beside his unruly charge and drifted into sleep.

  Perdita refused breakfast the next morning and drank only from her water bottle on the stall wall. And that was only after she had treated Brian to her usual tirade of abuse, her voice now sounding weak and hoarse however. Brian left her tethered securely and went to watch what was taking place on the training ground. The gladiators had been run, brought back to their stables, fed and washed and were now ready to start the day’s training in earnest. Carlo had got something special planned and the rows of benches around the circle of beaten earth in the equestrian centre, just beside the horsebox, were quite well filled with members and Housegirls, all eager to see what the CSL stable was up to.

  First of all Blondie was led in by Carlo, who unclipped her tongue lead and her wrists, then smacked her fondly on the rump and left the arena. There was applause as there always was for the big blonde, who immediately went into a loosening up regime, swinging her broad hips and flexing her trim waist, bending over and touching her toes. Each exercise brought a cheer from the men who never tired of seeing her spectacular body displayed for them. The biggest cheer was when she made a series of small jumps on the spot to loosen ankles and calves. Her breasts responded to the movement in a manner which had every cock in the house hardening instantly. A lot of them were immediately plunged into Housegirls’ mouths. However Blondie herself appeared to be quite unaware of the effect she had. She was far too well trained a creature to consider anything that went on in the audience as anything to do with her. Instead, once she had finished limbering up she went into her customary watchful stance as Carlo led in her opponent. She waited with her feet placed well apart and her hands braced firmly on her thighs just above her knees.

  Carlo led Trouble into the arena.

  Able to see the two blondes together, Brian could instantly see Carlo’s logic in buying in Trouble. Blondie was taller and more athletic looking, although she had proved that she coul
d soak up punishment like very few other slaves. But Trouble was - like Ox - more of a build suited to specialising in endurance events and lacked Blondie’s all round abilities. She was shapely and plainly fit and Brian could hear the knowledgeable audience immediately focus on the strong back and shoulders which marked her out as ideal whip fodder. Trouble, once she was fully broken in, was destined for the thick of the action in the arenas, places where naked furies battled it out in sweating crushes until their exhausted bodies were plundered by their masters. But for now, Trouble brought her reputation to Carlo’s arena and faced Blondie.

  The German blonde gazed scornfully at the audience before concentrating on Blondie, who shifted to a slightly more crouched position and the two began to circle each other, legs spread, fingers reaching.

  Trouble made the first move, she lunged in and Blondie struck with her characteristic speed. Leaning back to avoid the groping fingers she simply kicked out at stomach height and her heel drove hard into Trouble’s midriff. The German was stopped dead in her tracks, gaping and gasping for breath. Blondie regained her balance and flung herself against her opponent, putting her into a ferocious headlock and bringing her to the ground. Trouble got her breath back only enough to emit a muffled scream as Blondie tightened the headlock. Then she looked up at Carlo and Brian was aware of the Spaniard giving a slight shake of his head. Immediately the hold was released and Blondie let Trouble get up.

  Brian settled himself and prepared for a treat, Carlo had told Blondie he didn’t want this girl finished off quickly. Others had seen the exchange too and there was an excited murmuring in the audience.

  Trouble climbed to her feet, fury etched in every line of her face and she charged, her head down, her arms reaching. Carlo tutted at the amateurishness of her training and Brian grinned as he watched Blondie slip into a manoeuvre he had taught her. It was pretty basic but it worked. Blondie went down before the onslaught, put a foot in the girl’s midriff and kicked her high into the air. Trouble’s training had at least taught her how to fall and although she landed heavily on her back she bounced back up snarling defiance. Her next charge resulted in her being swung head first into the boards at the side of the ring, then while she was stunned, dragged out into the centre and subjected to another of Brian’s contributions to the stable’s repertoire - the surf board. While Trouble lay face down before her, Blondie twisted her victim’s lower legs around her own, placing her feet in the hollows behind Trouble’s knees, leaned forwards and grabbed her wrists then rolled over onto her own back. Trouble was held shrieking above her in a sort of painful hogtie in mid air, her arms held rigid down behind her, her legs painfully twisted again Blondie’s.

  Carlo tapped the boarding in front of him after the crowd had sampled the German’s cries adequately and some of the luckier onlookers had had a good look at the new girl’s cunt between the spread and bent thighs.

  Blondie heard and released the hold, retreating to her hands-on-thighs stance while the German climbed stiffly to her feet and limped back into the fray. All she got for a reward was a crotch hold and slam. Blondie feinted and then reached between the German’s legs whilst simultaneously getting a handful of tit. The crowd cheered and laughed as they saw the German girl’s face freeze, knowing that she would be feeling Blondie’s thumb jabbing into her cunt, while her fingers went for the anus. She had hardly begun to scream before she was lifted high and then slammed down onto her face. Every girl winced at the thought of her breasts taking the brunt. This time the crowd cheered Trouble as she staggered upright and faced her tormentor again. They were appreciative of someone who could give them good entertainment. Blondie glanced across at her master as the girl tottered towards her and Carlo nodded. Brian noticed that Patti had brought Jet in and behind her El Tigre was tugging at her tongue leash and giving Raika a hard time. It was time for Blondie to finish with Trouble and let her stable mates have their turn. Brian ambled across to where Raika was trying to get Tigre to stand quietly. Tigre saw him coming and made no move to quieten. He took the leash from Raika, pulled Tigre close with one hand and with the other made a lash out of the spare leather of the leash. He delivered two hard smacks across the quivering flanks and Tigre subsided.

  “It’s the only thing she understands, Raika,” he said. “When in doubt, beat her or have her beaten.” He smiled at Tigre who tossed her hair proudly while he stroked her breasts casually.

  Out in the arena, Blondie had put Trouble through three Irish whips in succession, whirling her body helplessly head over heels. Now she was strolling towards her master, eyes fixed on him and the piece of shortbread he was holding for her, ignoring the cheers of the crowd.

  Patti unclipped Jet’s lead and restraints and the black girl stepped elegantly into the circle, just as Trouble was picking herself up and shaking her bedraggled hair clear of her eyes. She let out an audible groan as she saw Jet. The crowd laughed and then cheered as they saw Carlo produce two pairs of boxing straps and call Jet to him. He threw the second set to Brian and he whistled Trouble over to him.

  Limping and sadly tousled the German girl came over, holding out her hands to have the straps wrapped and velcroed round the knuckles. Brian looked at her as he tugged the straps tight. The defiance had gone but so had the haughty glare. She glanced up at him at the same time and Brian saw something new in her; a sort of suppressed excitement. She saw Tigre waiting her turn and bit her lip, but there was just the ghost of a smile.

  Jet pounded her mercilessly, jabbing punches at her breasts and threatening uppercuts between her legs. Already weakened the German tried manfully to jab and swing in return but was too slow. In only a few minutes Jet was playing with her, rubbing one fist in her face to blind her and then swinging up between the sturdy thighs with her other. Of course she was far too experienced to use her full strength and eventually backed her up against the side boarding and kept her there until Carlo signalled it was time to let her fall. A bucket of cold water was needed to get her up but she staggered her way through two ferocious beatings by Tigre and Ox, both with whips and then finally Cherry teased her and put on a combined show of wrestling, boxing and whipping that had the crowd cheering every move, even though Trouble was little more than a dead weight. Finally she took the surrender. She stood above her utterly vanquished foe and sank to her knees above her battered face and Trouble needed no further urging. As Cherry shuffled her knees apart and her cunt approached the fallen girl’s mouth, Trouble stuck her tongue out and began to lick the delicate lips and finally she lapped at the vaginal hole itself as Cherry held her head up and began to rub herself on Trouble’s mouth.

  “Tonight she will be put in each stall and make each of her stable mates happy,” Carlo said. “Then she will know that she is fighting with these girls and not just for us men. That will make the difference with her.”

  Brian was envious of Carlo’s seeming infallibility with the slaves. When he returned to the horsebox with some lunch for Perdita, she again refused, instead sinking listlessly down into a corner and turning her back on him. For the previous two days he had been running her on a training rein in the arena. He had - after a struggle got her arms spread out and tied to a light pole for exercise but he had had to use the most fearsome whip The Lodge possessed to get that much out of her. A long flexible pole, like the shaft of a driving whip terminated in a steel ring and attached to that was a further long length of whip cord. It was possible - indeed it was at its best – to wield it over distances of eight or nine feet and it was quite capable of wrapping right around a girl’s torso twice before the tasselled and weighted end bit into her with an audible thump.

  Urged on by this, Perdita had reluctantly trotted for him for hour after hour. A scattering of members had looked on from the benches. Brian could hear them admiring her figure and bouncing breasts but also heard the whispers about her intransigence and how unlikely it was that she would be subdued.

  But as he looked at her that afternoon, Brian felt she was pro
bably too weak now. Prompted by a sudden urge, he reached out to the huddled figure and stroked her back where the whip’s end had bitten a small crater into her flesh. She made no move to avoid his touch and for a few moments he was able to stroke her back, enjoying the silky texture of her skin for the first time but disturbed by the lustreless, lank hair. Even if she broke soon, he reflected, it would take a long time to get her back into condition. But Carlo was certain he was on the right track so he would persevere. He decided that if she was beginning to give ground, it was maybe time he took a little.

  “I am tired of your refusing the good food the stable provides,” he told her, standing up and looming over her. “I will not offer you any more now until this evening.”

  She turned her head and gazed up at him, her dark eyes now not so bright but at least her tongue was stilled and she said nothing. Only yesterday she had harangued him in her mixture of shrill North American and Italian filth. Brian left her with raised spirits; maybe there was some progress.

  He spent the afternoon working the gladiators out on the lawns at the front of the house, supervising wrestling practice and then walking Jet and Blondie through a new dressage routine. It was a fine summer day and midges were dancing in the twilight under the trees at the end of it as he carried a bowl of fruit and another of muesli out to the horsebox, whistling contentedly. He had been able to put Perdita to the back of his mind as he had worked the more pliant females in his charge.