by Sean O'Kane
“You see, Angel?” her mistress said, looking up happily. “I told you little Ninety-seven here would be our lucky talisman again!”
Angel could only grit her teeth and make no reply. She was still reeling from the fact that she had found herself wondering what it would be like to have been that carelessly used by so many and been beaten so joyfully by so many for their pleasure.
She had taken part in the finale to the first event the Girl Squad had fought, but by then there had been no points at stake so it had not been as hard fought as this. Now, something about the scale of the event and the harshness of the use was catching at her, making her breasts feel fuller and tighter against the leather of her waistcoat and beneath the short skirt, she was uncomfortably aware that she was wetter than Sadia’s earlier attentions would account for.
And now this. A wretched cunt on legs was being credited with having won the event and Sadia was going all gooey over it, having it taken away and ordering the vet to look at it specially carefully. And even as Sadia returned to her and linked her arm in Angel’s as they carefully trod their way towards the exit, she was looking towards where Nintey-seven was being carried away.
“That one is going to be very useful, Angel,” she said.
“Yes, my lady,” Angel managed, still grappling with the strange mixture of sensations she was feeling on the field of what should have been uncomplicated victory.
Chapter Fourteen
Carlo Suarez checked her girth and crupper, she was running with just a dildo today, but it was studded and he wanted to ensure she was getting good contact. It would be an insult to her greatness to get slack now, or to allow any slackness in her tack to creep in. He tugged at the strap where it split her labia, squeezing them out into plump cushions on either side of it, nestling the metal studs close against her inner flesh. She lifted one leg and pawed the ground with one of her decorative, hoof-like boots as he let the studs settle back. He checked the tit straps as well and then let her nuzzle his shoulder for a moment before he stepped over the shafts of the trap behind her, climbed aboard, unshipped his whip and just touched her up into ‘Walk on.’
Her buttocks rolled as superbly as ever, he thought. They still bore their post-arena stripes, even though she had been at home for almost a week, but were none the worse for that. Her strong back flexed as she pulled him gently out from the CSL stableyard and onto the track that led through the woods, away from big house, past the assault course and the solitary confinement pit, then out onto the level tracks beyond the golf course, where the measured quarter mile lay for the racing ponies. He touched Blondie up again and she lifted smoothly into a trot as they entered the woods. The sun was slanting through the trees and her blonde hair and pale skin flickered through the bars of light.
“Whoa, girl,” he called, easing back on the reins. They were coming to where the stream crossed the track and there was a shallow ford. She leaned back as the weight of the trap pushed her down the slope but then she leaned into her work again as the whip flicked her along, and she clattered through the water, gaining speed for the far bank. She dug in up the slope and crested the rise smoothly, hardly blowing at all and tossing her plumed bridle proudly. Then they were out of the woods and Carlo flicked her with the whip two, three times until she was fully into her graceful, high knee lift canter.
In only a few minutes’ time he had a meeting with John Carpenter, Brian and Tony, Madame Stalevsky and Patti. They all knew what it was about. For the first time, the pillars that CSL’s success had been built on had shown signs of cracking. Ayesha had not performed well and even Blondie had been bettered. He studied her back fondly and traced a pattern with the whip’s tip on its satin skin. They were coming to the start of the measured quarter mile and Blondie knew it. She tossed her plumes and lifted her knees higher. Behind her Carlo smiled.
“Why not, girl, eh? Go!” He let fly with the whip and wrapped her ribs so the lash caught her across her strapped breasts. She reared up and arched her neck in delight. Her master was allowing her to gallop flat out on a fine morning. For a few minutes Carlo put his worries aside and just let Blondie do what she had done so well for so long.
In John’s office they sat and waited in silence until Patti broke it.
“He’ll be along, he just wanted to take Blondie for a drive….”
Everyone knew that Blondie was the most difficult problem facing them, but the other, only slightly lesser one was standing over by the windows. She was hooded and stood patiently, her weight on one leg, the other bent just slightly, her hands clipped together neatly behind her back and her long silken black hair in a pony tail coming from the back of the hood. Her tongue leash was hooked over an arm of a coat stand. From where Brian sat, her neat brand, the letters CSL set in a rectangle on her hip was caught by the sun. It didn’t help matters to see it.
The door opened suddenly and Carlo entered, he took his seat right in front of John’s desk, who called the meeting to order.
“We all know why we’re here. At the Orange stable we got away with a victory through a combination of circumstances.”
“And help from Amelia,” Brian put in.
“Yes, it’s odd how things turn out isn’t it? But anyway, CSL still had a hand in a win, even if it wasn’t how we planned it.”
“I am not selling,” Carlo growled.
“C’mon Carlo,” Brian urged him. “Ayesha’s never fully lived up to her billing since we got her. She’s always been good, but never the superstar she was before – and we’ve never figured out why.”
There was silence as everyone nodded. It was no more than the truth.
Carlo sighed. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean I wasn’t going to sell, I meant I’m not putting any CSL stock on an auction block.”
“Then how -?” Tony started.
“If you put CSL stock on an auction block, they look like any other livestock!” Carlo shouted suddenly. “And CSL stock is not like any other livestock!”
“I agree,” Brian put in hastily. “We’ve built up an aura about our stock.” They all glanced across at the graceful figure by the window, the long legs with the powerful forward curve of the thigh balancing the proud jut of the buttocks which curved into the sweep of the back. She was to die for.
“But she’s not pulling her weight anymore,” John Carpenter – owner of The Lodge and co-owner of CSL reminded them.
Carlo nodded glumly.
“So why don’t we sell her by sealed tender,” John suggested. “We circularise the whole arena market and the top end of the private market and ask for bids to be sent here. We’ll open them with a solicitor present in..let’s say a month’s time. Highest bid gets the prize!”
There were reluctant murmurs of assent. Everyone could see the sense of it, but it didn’t address the main issue. If Ayesha could be sold – by whatever means – why couldn’t Blondie? And if she wasn’t going to be sold, then what was going to be done with her? Everyone knew Carlo was racking his brains and gave him space. Ayesha would realise enough to buy at least two new good prospects and probably pay for an extension to the stableblock. So there was that to look forward to in the short term. But everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before a decision had to be made.
Peter Lang opened the e mail and whistled in surprise. Then he sat back and looked around at the tropical splendour that lay just beneath the hotel terrace, it would be a wrench to cut short this well earned holiday but this was a prize well worth the winning. But it was a cunning way of selling and he would need to do some careful and tactful digging around. There was no guide price. So what sort of price might secure her? Who would be looking for a property like that? Who had a pocketful of money burning a hole in their pocket……he whistled again and a wolfish grin spread across his features as he recalled the recent news from Indonesia. Now there could be two prizes to be won if he pitched it right…….this would need careful handling indeed.
After all he had broken Ayesha
to the bit straight off the streets as a bet with the prince, hadn’t he? Why couldn’t he consider another such challenge? And with two such specimens in his ownership, he could be at the start of something big. It was all in the preparation. He needed to know things and to talk to people who knew people who knew things. He had plenty of money, and even if money didn’t actually talk, it encouraged speech in others and he was a good listener!
The one thing he needed above all was contact, face to face with her. If he could get that, he was confident he could break her in. And if she was interested in Ayesha, then that could be the way in he needed. He had to pull in every favour and make contact with every insider he could to find out if she was going to bid and, if so, how much.
He stood up abruptly and in half an hour was being driven to the only airport on the island.
On their return home, Angel had ordered the doors of the barracks to be left open all day for two days, and there was no training. The girls were given the use of their hands and were free to sleep with whoever they wanted, to shower, wash, groom – she had hairdressers bussed in – and to play, boxes of toys were left in each barrack block. By the third day, with marks fading, the dust of the Orange arena washed off and the glow of victory still strong, training resumed with gentle basic fitness regimes being re-established. From the Girl Squad’s own arena, once more came the sound of hammering and welding as work began again to ready it for the upcoming home fixture.
With normality having been restored, Sadia attended Eric’s club and was gone for two nights. She arrived back unannounced and as her car drove her across the training ground she saw a figure ankle suspended from a punishment frame in the centre of the ground. It was being subjected to a flogging from a long single tailed whip and was swaying back and forth under the lashes. It was a familiar figure and she ordered the driver to stop. As the car pulled over, the guard who had been delivering the beating with a stock whip came across.
“Who ordered this?” she demanded.
“Angel, my lady,” the man replied.
“What offence?”
The man shrugged.
“Where’s Angel now?”
“Out with half the squad on a run.”
“Take her down and bring her to me!”
The man looked uncomfortable to be caught in the middle of a disagreement between the owner and trainer but nodded.
Seated in her chair by the balcony of her office, Sadia sipped her drink and tried to calm down. What on earth was Angel doing disciplining the best slave they had so severely?
She rang her mobile.
“Ever since we got back the little bitch’s been giving me the eye!” Angel said when Sadia protested about Ninety-seven’s treatment. “Dumb insolence! Nothing else! She thinks she’s god’s gift to this stable and I’m going to break her in properly, she’ll bloody well learn her place if it’s the last thing I do!”
Quite suddenly it occurred to Sadia that Angel had not been the lover she had been before the games, and added to that, Eric said there had been informal approaches from several other trainers following the Girl Squad’s successful entry into the arena world. She resisted the urge to say that it could well be the last thing she did. This needed calm thought and not rash action.
“Angel you know as well as I do that an over-beaten slut goes sullen and resentful! That’s not what we need. We’ll talk more when you get back.”
She broke the connection as there was a knock on the door and the guard entered, half carrying a dizzy and well-whipped Ninety-seven. She waved him away, back over to the door and the slave dropped onto all fours, leaving dust and dirt marks on the immaculate dark wood floor.
“Come!” Sadia ordered and extended an elegantly shod foot. The slave crawled forwards, kissed it and knelt back, thighs apart, hands on knees, eyes cast down.
“Angel tells me you’ve been making eye contact with her. Have you?”
The slave shook her head and Sadia reached out and took the girl’s chin, tilting it up, making her look at her.
“It’s alright, I won’t punish you,” she said, looking into Ninety-seven’s dark eyes and seeing nothing but puzzlement there
Sadia took a close look at the girl. She had been soundly flogged – and not in one session by the look of it. The skin was close to breaking in places and lines of welts crossed others at flanks, buttocks, ribs and breasts.
“How many times has this one been punished?” she demanded angrily.
“Yesterday. Day before, and the day before that, after you left,” the guard said.
Sadia sat back and looked at the mutely kneeling slave.
“Take her to the vet. Have her kept in the sick bay until further orders!”
“Yes, my lady.” The man came forward and helped Ninety-seven to her feet with a little more care than Sadia felt he would have shown a few minutes previously.
An hour later Angel strode into the office with a print-off in her hand.
“Where’ve you been?” Sadia demanded. “I saw the squad come back half an hour ago!”
Angel waved her hand impatiently. “Never mind that! Look at this! I want her!” and she plonked the paper down on Sadia’s desk. Sadia was too surprised at how completely her complaint at Ninety-seven’s treatment had been brushed aside to protest and glanced down to see the mail advertising that CSL were inviting sealed bids for Ayesha.
“She really didn’t do very well in Indonesia,” Sadia observed.
“She’s not being handled right!” Angel strode up and down past the desk. “Give her to me for two months and I’ll have the bitch motivated alright. You can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t care anymore! Carlo’s gone soft!”
“Well….” Sadia said playing for time. “I’ll talk to Eric about it.”
“And that’s another thing! Why do we need him now? We can run our own show, we’ve proved that and you can get rid of those bloody tags he put on you!”
Angel paced over to the window and glanced down at the training ground.
“Oh for God’s sake, you had the little cow taken down?! Well it’s my job to decide who gets flogged how much and when! Discipline is the trainer’s job, you just make sure I’ve got the money to do it properly!” She marched out and slammed the door behind her.
“Well, well,” Sadia said softly, staring at the door. “I think our Angel’s got just a bit of a high opinion of herself all of a sudden. I think I might need to talk to nice Uncle Eric about her…..”
“Now isn’t that interesting!” It was two days later and Eric’s voice came out of the speaker on Sadia’s desk. There had simply been shouting matches between owner and trainer in the intervening days and Sadia had had to content herself with having slaves sent to her bed. She had forbidden Ninety-seven to be released back into Angel’s jurisdiction and Angel was still seething. The squad was being punished rather than trained and Sadia was becoming increasingly alarmed.
“I’ve had someone on the phone only this morning asking if you might be interested in bidding,” Eric went on. “And you say Angel wants her?”
“Angel is being quite impossible!” Sadia replied. “She’s insisting our little Ninety-seven - Amelia, remember I told you about her, she more or less won that last event for us – is being insolent and she had her hung up and whipped day in and day out while I was away, it’s as if she’s jealous!”
“Hmm. It sounds like the Girl Squad might need a new trainer. You can’t get personal when you’ve got a stable to run.”
“Well I’m going right off her! And if I’m not careful she’ll ruin the whole squad. So if you can find someone else and get rid of her, that’s fine by me!”
“I think I might be able to – let’s say – make life a little difficult for Angel at the least, and then we’ll see what we’ll see. I’ll need to know what she wants to bid.”
Sadia told him and he whistled. “She needs to go now, Sadia, she’ll bankrupt you at that rate. But if she’s going that far over the top, it
plays into our hands. I’ll make a few calls.”
“Thank you dahling,” Sadia purred. “I’ll see you at the club next week. Can we put that blonde piece through a real session this time. I’m sure she can take a lot more than she’s been getting.”
“For you Sadia, we’ll make a pin cushion of her!”
Eric put the phone down and punched the air. That Angel bitch had just signed her freedom away, if he was any judge of things, and that meant that Sadia would be free to concentrate on him. He picked up the phone once more and dialled.
“Peter, I’ve got good news for you. I can give you the figure you need. Match it and I don’t think anyone else will be in the running. Added to that her mistress wants to dump her, so she’s up for grabs alright – just doesn’t know it. Yet.”
John Carpenter looked at the two pieces of paper incredulously.
“We’ve had over two hundred bids! What are the odds on two coming in exactly the same to the last penny?”
Carlo shrugged. All he was concerned about was the size of the two bids. Whichever was settled on, he could build a new, bigger stable block and add three new slaves. And probably have some small change! For the first time in weeks he was feeling happy.
“So how do we decide on whether to take Peter Lang’s bid or Angel Smythe’s?”
“Well,” Carlo said slowly as an idea occurred to him. “They both want her, let them compete against each other to get her.”
He explained his idea to John.
Chapter Fifteen
Angel slung her case out of the car and stared around. She had never been to Scotland before. Gillhoolie House, surrounded by thickly wooded hills, rivers and lakes, was set almost ten miles from the nearest town and stood in the middle of its own huge estate. It was also owned by one of the members of The Lodge – as Carlo had told her when he had phoned her to explain how they were going to work a tie break.