Slave's Honour

by Sean O'Kane

  In pairs and wearing the full boxer’s kit of leather basque with half cup bra, the bases of the steel studs patterning the exterior and the thongs likewise, knuckles wrapped in weighted leather strips, they took it in turns to deliver unresisted flurries of punches. The recipient would stand with hands on head and allow her full front to take four punches before she was allowed to return the compliment. Carlo would shout out the target areas, blow his whistle and the punches would thud home with the recipients trying not to flinch or take a backwards step. Even Blondie found this a testing exercise, and frequently she would have to shuffle her feet and adjust her stance. But all four slaves knew that the practice bore fruit, a CSL slave had never had to be carried from an arena or pen after a boxing contest.

  Brian and Carlo would patrol behind the slave delivering the punches and encourage them with the whip, ensuring that full force went into the punches. After that they were allowed to engage in proper bouts. Lodge members frequently watched from the benches, they not only appreciated the thrill of the contest and the sights and sounds of beautiful slaves suffering for their entertainment, they also knew that once Carlo called a halt, they were superb fucks. A gladiator fresh from even a training arena was always a passionate screw and on most afternoons the steel enclosure would echo to moans and gasps of orgasm as soon as the noise of combat had ceased.

  On this afternoon however, the practice finished early and the frustrated slaves were led back to their stalls. Brian tacked Perdita up and added full blinkers this time. He felt that with Josh in the driving seat, a narrower field of vision might help stop her getting too panicky. When she was ready, he led her out by her reins and took her into the yard. The grooms were all gathered and there was a ripple of excited applause as they entered under the arch. Then Brian backed her up between the shafts of one of the traps, shackled her wrists and led her round to the front of the house. He walked beside her and whispered encouragement as, even with blinkers on, she became aware of the gathering onlookers.

  There was a hitching rail to one side of the foot of the main staircase where it swept grandly down from the front door and Brian looped the reins around that before going to lean against the warm stone of the house and wait for Josh’s appearance. He made sure that Perdita could see him and smiled encouragement whenever her eyes caught his accidentally. There was quite a crowd gathered by that time and several of the members were running admiring hands over her body, tweaking the swollen nipples, digging fingers into buttocks and even testing her resolve to stand neatly with legs together by attempting to get fingers between them. Standard treatment for ponies at The Lodge but Brian had no idea how Perdita would react. It seemed that he need not have worried, occasionally she glanced in his direction to reassure herself but then she went back to placidly ignoring the arrogantly questing and prodding hands.

  After a few minutes Josh finally appeared. He was carrying his own driving whip and before Brian could stir, John Carpenter stepped forward and asked to inspect it. The tip of the lash turned out to have had a devilish little curved spike added. One slash at a ponyslave’s crotch with that would have taken her to her knees instantly.

  Josh spread his hands innocently when John discovered the addition.

  “Amber never complains and I always run her with it,” he explained.

  “Standard tack, standard rig, standard whip, Josh,” John replied, handing the whip to Duke Dupont.

  Josh smiled and shrugged casually. “With a standard whip it just takes a little longer to open them up,” he said.

  Brian felt Carlo’s hand close about his upper arm as he stood up. “Steady, Brian. All you can do is hope she can take it.”

  If Perdita had heard anything, she gave no sign and when Brian looked she was champing the bit and shaking her head irritably to clear a fly away, the green and gold plumes wagging merrily above her head. But then Josh unlooped the reins and mounted and he saw her arms and shoulders register the change in the rig’s balance. Instantly her expression changed to one of intense concentration and fortunately she caught Brian’s eye before Josh wheeled her around, he gave her a small, tight smile and saw what looked like an answering one but around the bit it was hard to tell. Josh yanked the reins cruelly to her left and with her head snatched hard round she was half-backing, half-wheeling away until she was facing the park. Then with a snap of the whip around her waist and another hard wrench of the reins he brought her to a prancing halt at John’s request.

  “The course is as follows. The rig is to be driven out along the path to the thirteenth green. There it will turn left and follow the track that runs across the fourth and sixteenth fairways. After that it will rejoin the main drive and be driven back here. Observers are stationed along the way to see that nothing other than pony driving takes place and no undue whip play is indulged in,” he told the crowd.

  “That’s a tough course for a new pony,” Carlo whispered. “There’s an uphill onto the main drive then it’s a fast surface until you hit the hill to climb up to the car park.”

  Brian nodded thoughtfully. He was aware that Josh was giving Perdita as hard a run as he could.

  “What exactly is ‘undue whip play’ John?” Josh was asking, his lips curling in his customary sneer. “Everyone here knows I drive a hard pace. Brian certainly did when he offered to let me drive this bitch.”

  Brian had tried to manoeuvre himself around to Perdita’s front to maintain contact for as long as possible and was just about there when John Carpenter called to him for a decision.

  Perdita raised her eyes once, saw him and shook her hair proudly, arching her neck and stamping impatiently. Suddenly she looked a true thoroughbred, raised for the driver’s whip and anxious to be about her business. Brian smiled broadly.

  “Josh is perfectly free to drive her as hard as he cares to,” he said proudly, quite certain that the CSL stable’s honour was safe.

  “Drive on then, Josh!” John called.

  Instantly the whipcord snaked over Perdita’s back and cracked down hard, once, twice and three times before she had had a chance to get up to more than walking pace. But even as she pumped her legs and the trap rumbled forwards on the tarmac, the whip smacked across her twice more, goading her into an urgent run. The path led off from a corner of the car park and in two wide curves snaked down to the first tee, where Ox and Trouble, still hung, ignored for the moment. Brian held his breath as he watched Perdita being hurled down the slope at full tilt. She was being given no opportunity to adopt the showy, high knee-lift most drivers liked, Josh simply wanted an all out gallop. One stumble at that pace on that gradient would wreck the trap and mean a long, painful recuperation for Perdita - even if she wasn’t permanently damaged.

  He didn’t breathe out until the rig was down on the level and racing away out onto the golf course. The regular snap of the whip could be clearly heard by the onlookers as the figures receded into the distance until the trap rattled across a small bridge on the eighth fairway and was approaching a small copse. The pace was still furious and the whip was still flaying Perdita but she showed no signs yet of fatigue. Although the small figure of Josh could still be seen raising and then slashing the whip down, the sound no longer travelled and the scene was played in eerie silence. Brian could just imagine though. The smell of the slave’s sweat would be mingling with the smell of leather, the harness would be jangling and rattling, the wheels rumbling in an underscore to the whip’s incessant descant played on the slave’s skin. He wondered whether Perdita would be panting and gasping for breath yet.

  The crowd watched until the trap had vanished behind the trees, then everyone began to drift away to the opposite side of the car park, where - it seemed like only yesterday - Brian had whipped Jet up the incline from the drive onto the frontage of the house. People were consulting watches and earnestly discussing the amount of time it would take for the rig to travel along the track, join the drive and then reappear. There were many shaking heads as they considered the two
climbs involved, the pace Josh had set and the amount of whip being used.

  “If she makes this, Brian, we’ve got a winner!” Carlo said cheerfully.

  “You think she will?”

  “How should I know? But I know that you think she will!” He gave his infectious grin and leaned against a tree, looking down the drive and waiting.

  They were the longest minutes of Brian’s life. He was constantly waiting to hear John’s mobile ring with a report that Perdita had gone lame or had pulled up. But suddenly, one of several members who had walked some way along the drive was waving at the crowd who had stayed by the finish line. Another person waved and then there was a movement back towards the house all along the drive, with more excited waving. Carlo gripped Brian’s arm and both men squinted along the tarmac, then suddenly from around the slight bend which hid the track’s entrance onto the drive, the trap was back in sight.

  Now they could hear cheering. Bets were forgotten, Perdita was still going strong and all the members loved a good competitor. Brian could see that Josh was standing up now and still raining lashes down on the straining ponygirl but she was still running fluidly and straight despite the gradient she had just been lashed up.

  “Come on, Purdy!!” Brian found himself screaming and suddenly everyone around him was screaming too. Housegirls were jumping up and down and shrieking, even the ever-taciturn Madame Stalevsky was clapping her hands and jigging up and down. Patti Campbell was thumping one fist into the palm of her other hand, her face contorted into a ferocious grimace of encouragement. Closer and closer the trap came, the noise of the whip and the wheels on the tarmac drowned out by the noise of the crowd. It was a simple contest now, Perdita’s determination and endurance versus Josh’s determination to break her with the whip. Brian could see Josh’s face contorted in fury as he flailed away at Purdy’s back, shoulders, breasts, buttocks. He was making no attempt to aim and suddenly Brian realised that he had whipped himself out. He was exhausted and still Purdy was running. Brian yelled at the top of his voice, willing her to hear him and run to him. But pony, like driver, was tiring. The onlookers could see the trap beginning to weave a little as Purdy’s running became ragged.

  Brian threw courtesy to the winds and shouldered his way to the front of the crowd, barging Housegirls and members out of his way. Then he cupped his hands round his mouth and yelled her name.

  For ever afterwards he maintained that that was what clinched it. He was sure that she heard him just as she hit the bottom of the slope, sweat was blinding her, every inch of her hide must have been burning and stinging, the studded tack was letting sweat into the tiny punctures it made in her flesh, inside her the plug and dildo were a torment. And the whip just wouldn’t stop. She was beyond feeling any more pain but he was sure she heard her master and in that moment she won.

  He saw her head go down and her knees lift just a fraction more and the trap actually accelerated just enough to cover the first part of the hill. Now it was so close that the whip was plainly audible, even over the screaming of the crowd. Brian yelled again and Perdita’s head came up, the bit cruelly pulled back by Josh’s standing and bracing himself with it. Saliva and sweat sprayed from her and the onlookers groaned as they saw the first rivulet of scarlet appear at her hip, the whip smacked again and another trickle broke. But still the trap was moving and though it slowed gradually, the crowd continued to urge her on. Carlo grabbed Brian.

  “Come on! They’ll swamp her!” he yelled.

  Brian saw what he meant. In their enthusiasm the crowd was surging onto the drive and would swamp her within yards of the finish. He followed Carlo and roughly began pushing people back. At not much more than walking pace now, the trap was nearing the summit. Perdita was in a terrible state. Her back was savagely lacerated from shoulders to thighs; where the skin hadn’t already broken, it was about to. But Josh Cordell was not in a much better condition. Red faced and sweating he was barely able to lift the whip any more. He was a proud man who was at last realising that he was confronting a bitter and very public defeat. He was running out of strength and still he couldn’t thrash the legs out from under a lowly slave bought at auction.

  Perdita was bent nearly double but still her legs pumped and there were scant yards left to go. With a despairing shout, Josh launched one more flurry of lashes but by then Perdita had seen her master beside her and nothing was going to stop her.

  With one final scream of effort she made it onto the level and Brian was the first at her side. Patti was a close second, throwing a blanket around her shuddering, heaving shoulders and beginning to rub a towel over her shaking thighs while Brian stroked her sweat-matted hair and shushed her while he unbuckled her bridle. Raika was unshackling her wrists and already beginning to dab at the cuts with cotton wool. Carlo was gently urging people back to give her air. Brian’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of the CSL stable taking his Perdita to their hearts. Even as he held the warmth of her body close to him, feeling her heart continue to pound crazily, someone was shouting something close by. He looked up and saw Josh, shirt soaked in sweat, his own hair matted, face bright red from his efforts, holding his hand up and calling for quiet. Then John Carpenter joined in and the excited crowd slowly subsided.

  “Gentlemen!” Josh began. “I have never been a good loser!” There were some ironic cheers from members who played poker with him. “But I met my match today! Brian has trained up, or discovered or whatever it is CSL does - a slave of real courage and strength. We can be proud to be associated with CSL and its string! Brian,” he said turning to him. “I make no apologies for having whipped her as hard as I did. But when you’ve put her to bed there’s a drink waiting for you at the bar!”

  Then he began to clap and the applause spread until the whole Lodge was clapping an epic performance. Brian smiled down at the tousled brown hair resting against his chest and then bent to scoop Perdita up and carry her away.

  Chapter 14

  By the time that he returned from having tended to Perdita’s cuts and bruises and settled her down in her stall, he found that the stable was in the grip of intense excitement. Much as the grooms and Housegirls had cheered Perdita on, the sight of Josh’s merciless whipping and Perdita’s tormented breasts bouncing had stoked the fires in every submissive, female belly and quickened the pulse of every male dominant. On top of that, the gladiators had not had their normal attention from Brian, Carlo, Yuri or Ivan or any of the members and were restless themselves.

  The grooms had taken matters into their own hands by allowing the slaves into each other’s stalls and buckling strap-ons to them. When Brian entered the stableblock, the grooms were leaning on the half doors of the stalls and urging the inmates on while masturbating themselves and their colleagues. Even his presence didn’t stop them, which was a sure sign that punishment was in the air and they couldn’t wait for it to start.

  In Blondie’s stall the famous fighter was slamming her thick, black dildo into Jet with all the strength she could muster while the black girl’s long thighs were wrapped tightly around her waist. In her stall Ox was on her knees before Trouble, tonguing her for all she was worth while she was squatting over Cherry who, despite the Russian’s famously acidic cunt, was sucking and licking ardently, her hands working frantically between her own spread thighs. In Tigre’s stall the proudly fierce little firebrand was on all fours and being shafted from behind by a groom with a huge strap-on while she was giving enthusiastic head to another. The second groom was urging her on by slashing her back with a crop. Patti and Raika were nowhere to be seen. The air was filled with a rising chorus of female moans and sighs, some of the onlooking grooms openly gave him heavy lidded, challenging looks as they approached climax and he realised that discipline would have to be restored with a very firm hand indeed.

  Patti was the person charged with keeping order in the masters’ absence and he went in search of her. He didn’t have to look too far, as he approached the door to her office he heard t
he characteristic Thwick! noise of a crop being plied. As he strode into the small room he saw Raika bent over Patti’s desk, her feet had been spread and her ankles tied to two of the legs. She was nude apart from her sandals and her upper body was pressed down onto the desktop, pale cushions of breastflesh squeezed out sideways beneath her ribs. As Brian entered Patti had just landed a further lash, adding to the impressive array of welts covering the superb, coffee coloured hemispheres of the Indian girl’s backside. Brian saw the girl’s long straight black hair toss high as her head reared and she moaned through clenched teeth. Patti’s free hand was rubbing between her thighs, her short skirt rucked up about her waist. Her magnificent breasts were heaving and she was plainly close to orgasm. She looked directly at Brian and raised the crop again, bringing it down hard across Raika’s shoulders and fetching a squeal of surprised pain from her. The sound seemed to be the trigger Patti needed and as Brian watched, her eyes closed, her hand delved more deeply between her thighs and she staggered slightly as spasms of orgasm rippled through her. Gasping and tottering as she came, Patti finally fetched up leaning against her victim’s arse.

  At that moment the door burst open and Carlo stalked in.

  Patti stared, pupils dilated, her mouth open and then suddenly she laughed.

  “Ah well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. They were all horny as hell so I let them have their head.” She chuckled again at her own pun and Brian noted that her hand was stroking Raika’s slit now and as he watched, her fingers slid easily inside her assistant. “I suppose I’ll be for another posting,” she finished, glancing up archly from beneath her eyelashes at Carlo.

  “I’ll decide in the morning. For now though, the members have got the same idea as you and the grooms are required out front. The slaves can stay in their stalls for now.”