by Sean O'Kane
“Results of the chariot racing are as follows!” boomed the cheerful voice of the compere. “Orange team thirty-six! Girl Squad, thirty-four! That means that in the final melee, the Orange team must score at least sixty points to win!”
Amelia’s breathing began to ease as Tony and Angel strolled past.
“Pretty good,” Tony was saying. “Second by a whisker and third too! If we’d won one more of the pairs we’d be home and dry now.”
Angel flexed her crop thoughtfully. “Still, Ayesha, Blondie and Jet have been slowed down pretty well, so I reckon we’re still going into the finale with our noses in front.”
She looked down at the tangled heap of naked bodies still in their traces. “Come on!” she yelled at her staff. “Get these lazy bitches up and showered off! They’ve got work to do still!”
After only a light lunch of cold meat and salad, with a short nap after it, the two squads found themselves back in their dressing rooms being prepared for the final event. With all hundred girls present plus the CSL contingent, it was a chaotic scene as the naked bodies were once more oiled and all cuffs and collars removed again. Then in a jostling, excited herd of girlflesh they were driven out into the blinding light of the arena to see what awaited them.
Once Amelia’s eyes had adjusted to the glare she saw that the floor of the arena had been partially fenced off, or rather fencing had been used to alter its shape. Instead of the oval it normally was, it was now an hourglass shape, with small-mesh, plastic fencing mounted on stout poles, curving in from both sides of the arena to make a narrow corridor about half way along. The corridor ran for about twenty feet and then the fencing widened out again. And in the far area there lay piles of whips, nets, quarterstaffs and behind them an array of whipping posts of various designs.
“…..once they do manage to get through the corridor,” the compere was saying, “then the fun starts. Obviously if more of one team gets through before the other, they’ll have an advantage. And they’ll have the weapons to give us some really excellent sport! Remember, if the Girl Squad bring down forty-one of the Orange team, they win. If the Orange team can bring down sixty; they win. Either way, once that threshold’s been passed, we can get down to the real business of the day!”
Amelia felt a warm tide of excitement spread through her belly at his words. Next to her a fellow slave shifted excitedly and the two exchanged grins. A siren would sound as soon as one side or the other had won and then the guards from both stables would be let loose plus a horde of onlookers whose ticket numbers matched those the compere was now calling out. The battered, exhausted girls would then face men – and some women – who were fresh and keen to enjoy a victory in an arena. The resulting struggles could only end one way. The floor of an arena after a final was a grand orgy.
Away on the Girl Squad’s right, the Orange team were tensed and ready, Amelia saw Ayesha, Jet, Blondie and Tigre, all crouching as a judge strode out and raised his pistol.
There was the familiar dry, Crack! and they were off.
Two hundred girls threw themselves at a corridor no more than ten feet wide. At once Amelia found herself in the vanguard, running alongside Purdy, Sam and Lucky with four of the Girl Squad’s best fighters grimly keeping pace, Legs and Rose were close behind. She glanced across and saw Jet pulling clear with three other squad fighters, Blondie was close behind but Ayesha was failing quickly, favouring one leg – maybe a strain picked up in the racing. But then there was no time for thought. The two groups arrived at the opening to the corridor simultaneously and behind them came the main weight of the squads. Amelia found herself locked in combat with Jet, her gleaming ebony body warm and slippery against hers as the press became worse and worse as more and more girls threw themselves into the fray. Jet’s forearm caught Amelia under the chin and she was thrown against the fence face first, finding herself staring at a grinning cameraman filming her from just a foot beyond the fence. Jet pressed her harder against the plastic and Amelia couldn’t move – but she could see her own face on a monitor and watched herself cry out as, from behind her, she felt Jet’s hand ram between her legs and her thumb spear up into her anus while her fingers slipped into her wet cunt. Then the arena and the sky were pinwheeling horribly as she was lifted up and Jet’s fingers gripped the septum between her entrances. Her hair was wrenched painfully and she felt herself thrown bodily through the air. Her training took over even as she registered the pain inside her as Jet’s fingers gripped and then slid out of her, she rolled as she hit the ground, then gripped her abused parts and rolled some more. The stinging wasn’t too bad but it always paid to put on a show, and in any case it was a welcome chance to rub at her clit for a few seconds. It wasn’t often she had the use of her hands.
When she felt it was advisable and her frotting had overcome any discomfort from the throw, Amelia scrambled up and rejoined the struggle. The corridor was a mass of struggling, naked girlflesh and the cameras were having a field day. Some of the fights involved four or five combatants. And there were an increasing number of girls who were already down and who were now trying to claw their way back up or bring more down. As she watched, somewhere at the far end of the corridor, someone must have fallen and it caused a domino-like collapse of the maul. Legs waving and hands clutching helplessly the naked scrum collapsed and Amelia saw her chance to join in the battle proper. She took a run up and launched herself through the air, landing on soft female flesh – which squealed. Then with a wriggle and a somersault she was through.
Without wasting a second she ran forwards and picked up a whip, but no sooner had she got a grip on its rubber, cock-shaped handle than she took a heavy blow between her shoulders and went down again. This time it was Tigre, who somehow had slipped through the scrum, bruised and welted from the first day and from the racing but still swinging a whip for her owners. She loomed over Amelia as she sprawled on her back, the lashes of her whip black against the bright sky behind her as she brought it forward and down. Amelia rolled onto her stomach and kicked back and up as hard as she could, the whip landed hard on her middle back but she felt her feet make contact with something soft. She leapt up and saw Tigre winded and writhing on the ground and hoped that a judge would spot her and mark her as a point for the Girl Squad, even if she did get up again eventually.
She grabbed her whip and went to the aid of Seventy-six who was being held by one girl from behind while another belaboured her lovely tits. Amelia wasn’t having that and took out the whip-wielding girl with one well aimed uppercut. Seventy-six threw the girl who had been holding her and dropped on her, digging her elbow into her stomach. Neither girl seemed to be in a hurry to get up and Amelia was immediately attacked by two more Orange team girls. One came in low and took her legs, the other landed on top of her as she fell backwards. There was a moment of almost pleasurable contact, breast to breast and crotch to crotch but then the girl scrambled off and held her arms fast above her head. The girl who had tripped her now squatted on Amelia’s knees and began to lash her breasts and stomach. But the redheaded Sam toppled backwards over her, locked in a struggle with a squad girl, before she could get off more than a dozen or so lashes and Amelia wriggled free and leapt up. She saw the Orange team girl’s arm raised to deliver a finishing blow to Sam who was pinned under her and she caught her fist, twisting her arm high up behind her back. The girl screamed and toppled forwards. Sam wriggled out from under her and while Amelia held her down, Sam laid into her backside with her whip.
Suddenly the wail of the siren went up, rising to a deafening crescendo that stopped all the girls in their tracks.
“Girl Squad win!” the compere bellowed.
Panting and laughing, Amelia stood up and looked around at the dust-covered, battered and bruised girls climbing slowly to their feet. Veterans among them knew that whatever had gone on before, it was every girl for herself now. Her only job was to entertain the crowds by giving as good an account of herself as she could before going down to inevitab
le defeat and use, right out in the open on the arena floor while the cameras recorded and replayed every detail of every humiliation.
Pouring through the now-empty corridor came all the men and a smattering of women with strap-ons. All were naked and all were armed with heavy tailed floggers. Some of the men sported exciting strapping and rings on their erect and wagging cocks
Amelia smiled at Sam and the Orange squaddie. Then as one they uttered a wordless scream and charged.
The first man Amelia took on, simply picked her up and threw her down onto her back in a thrillingly easy move, and before she could start to rise, he was lying on her, his hand was between her legs and she felt his broad helm push easily into her. For the sake of it she struggled a little but knew that really her job was to take as many as possible for a good ride. She braced her feet in the dust and thrust her hips back at him as he plunged into her and he smiled down at her before levering his torso up enough to allow him to duck his head and take a nipple into his mouth. Amelia cried out in pleasure as he nipped and suckled, his hard shaft ploughing her insides to a boiling cloud of exquisite sensations. She abandoned herself, flinging her arms above her head and giving herself utterly. She just hoped a camera was on her.
When he had spilled himself and gone on to the next, she sat up and then climbed wearily to her feet. Everywhere girls were either looking for their next conqueror or were surrendering to the current one.
Amelia limped towards a whip and picked it up, feeling the sperm begin to ooze down her thighs. A man strode towards her, she thought it was one of the Orange team’s guards and she swung the whip in as strong an overarm throw as she could muster. He simply twisted and caught her wrist from below, then swung it back and up behind her. The whip dropped and she was bent forwards, crying from the pain until she dropped to her knees and then bent her head until her cheek was rubbing in the dust of the arena floor. She knew where this was leading and sure enough she felt his hand use the sperm she was leaking to lubricate her sore anus and as she opened her mouth wide in the expectation of pain, he steadily pushed himself up into her rectum, spreading her cruelly wide. She yelled, knowing he would like that but helpless to do otherwise. He paused and then thrust again, again she yelled. He paused once more and she opened her eyes wide as she gulped in air. There, up on a giant monitor and spurring on the crowds to their own acts of abandoned licentiousness, was her face, grimacing and crying as the man behind her took her. He thrust one more time for full penetration and she watched her mouth open wide as her passage was opened almost equally as wide and behind her the man took his pleasure with her. She collapsed in an ecstatic heap when he left her and it was some time before she could totter upright once more to see what more punishment she could find.
Legs spread wide to keep her balance, covered in dust and sperm, she staggered towards another whip, but strong male hands grabbed her by an arm and spun her round, she dropped dizzily to her knees, which was where he wanted her. And she had no strength to oppose his demanding hand in her hair, guiding her face onto his rampant, glistening cock which only just fitted her gaping mouth and which spurted its jism hard enough to make her choke.
She fell forwards onto all fours when he pulled free of her and wiped himself in her hair. She took a few minutes to get her breath back before she once more struggled upright. She wanted Sadia to be proud of her and wanted the crowd to remember how tough the Girl Squad had been to put down. And, she smiled to herself, just how much cock they could take!
All round her various struggles were taking place. The number of girls still able to stand was getting smaller so the ones who were able to were getting more attention. Amelia went to the aid of a girl – unrecognisable under the mask of dirt and sweat and sperm drenched hair, who was being held from behind by one man, his arms pinning hers, while a second man was flicking her across the breasts with a whip and giving her uppercuts between the legs whenever her struggles gave him the opportunity. Amelia charged joyfully into the whipman, grabbing him by his muscular thighs and trying to bear him down as she would a girl fighter. It didn’t work and she found herself picked, upside down.
“You carry on with that one,” he called to his companion. “I’ll deal with this one!”
He let her fall and then dropped on top of her. Even as the breath was forced from her by his weight, Amelia was overcome with the pleasure of having a male body on her again. Her hands roved over the muscles of his back and delved lower to savour the hardness of his buttocks, so unlike the yielding softness of the female ones she was used to. He was all business and without glancing at her, even as he lay on her, he moved himself up her until she could feel him begin to slip inside her without even a guiding hand being necessary. She spread her legs wide and drew her thighs up to widen herself and felt him piston into her until she was stuffed to the neck. She nuzzled and kissed his hairy chest as he plundered her innards, jerking her violently about as he reached his climax and rammed himself hard into her. She came and came again, so powerfully that she hardly noticed his leaving and lay there, gasping and wheezing her way back to consciousness.
Beside her, the girl she had gone to help stirred and sat up, smiled down at her and lurched uncertainly to her feet. Amelia could see the gleaming trails of sperm leaking from her bottom as she staggered away. It had been Rose.
Grimly determined not to be outdone, Amelia got herself up and found a woman coming at her with a huge strap-on wagging from her waist as she trotted forwards, heavy breasts lurching and swaying on her chest. She launched a clumsy swipe with her whip as she approached Amelia and although normally she would have dodged it easily, exhaustion made her lose her balance and fall backwards onto something soft and slippery. She twisted round and found she had fallen onto Purdy’s breasts. The CSL slave was lying on her back and as Amelia turned over she saw that the breasts, heaving most attractively and beautifully whip-striped had been wanked over. Purdy lifted her head and smiled at her as the woman with the strap-on knelt behind Amelia, who dipped her head and began to lap the fluid from Purdy’s soft curves. She grunted as the huge plastic invader sank into her and knew that this could be the end of her afternoon. Women with strap-ons could outlast men and drain the last resistance from the most determined of slaves. But afterwards, Amelia had to admit that it was a good way to go. The taste of the sperm licked from Purdy’s sweat-streaked breasts had been divine and the woman had encouraged them to further intercourse as she had fucked Amelia into a twilight world of almost constant orgasm. They had kissed and Purdy had sucked at Amelia’s nipples, then the woman had withdrawn long enough to turn Amelia so that she could bugger her over Purdy’s face while an ecstatic Amelia lay face down between Purdy’s spread thighs, lapping at the rich outpourings of her well used cunt and tracing with her tongue the flares and welts the whips had left on her inner thighs.
There had been more but not that she could recall in any detail. And finally she had been hauled up and, squinting against the sun she had watched as a man had buckled her wrists into restraints nailed to the top of a whipping post. There was no set punishment tally by now. Any girl was fair game for as many as anyone cared to give her. Amelia knew that and even in her post-orgiastic state the knowledge gave her a further spurt of warmth in her groin. The wood of the post was warm on her cheek as she waited for anything further anyone wanted to do to her and thought she couldn’t be happier. But then she realised that way down beneath all the pleasure of the uses to which she had been put, there was a part of her that was still wondering whether it might have been better to have made more use of Legs in the early events to extend the Girl Squad lead and trust in the girl’s strength a bit more during later events. She groaned. Even here and even after all she had been through, she still wasn’t the completely self-abandoned slave she had so wanted to be.
Up in the owners’ box Angel sat up further in her seat as she felt Sadia’s hand being withdrawn from her cunt, and she began to wriggle her short skirt back down her thighs.
Beside her Tony finished coming in Eve’s mouth and all three finally relaxed as the finale wound down. Craig Maddox and the Orange Team owner came across and formally congratulated them on a remarkable win. Angel grinned as Sadia proffered him her hand to kiss. It reeked of her vaginal secretions and he checked as he bowed over it but had no real choice other than to finish what he had started.
When they and their party had gone, they followed them down onto the arena floor. It was traditional that owners and trainers should take a bow at the end of an event and Angel in her leather skirt and leather waistcoat, straining across her breasts, got an extra big cheer.
She was feeling relaxed and happy. There would be money for more slaves now and their first home games could go ahead. And she had to admit that the aftermath of the finale was a fine sight. The ground seemed to be covered in panting and gasping female bodies, the full variety of female curves and valleys was on display and all of it bore the traces of every conceivable sort of pleasure having been taken from it. They might have been covered in dirt, smeared darker where the sweat ran, caked in sperm and cunt juice but they had a beauty all their own and she wished she could have had an easel and some paint to capture the debauched and depraved spectacle in all its glory. And for a fleeting moment she caught herself wondering how it would feel……..Just then, Sadia gave a little cry and went across to a whipping post. Following her and stepping daintily over and around the bodies, Angel saw that she had found Ninety-seven, hanging by her wrists. Briskly Sadia ordered the girl to be released and to Angel’s anger began to make a fuss of the creature, draping her limp form across her lap as she crouched at the foot of the post and wiping her face with her hankerchief.