by Sean O'Kane
Once she was mounted, Angel looked around her as best she could and saw the girl tying back her thick hair then stripping off her shirt and bra. She saw Angel watching and jiggled her breasts tauntingly.
“If you’re very good, I’ll ask Sir if you can suck them for me later!” she said and then picked up the cane. It was a long one with tape wound round one end. Angel knew that it was capable of really testing a girl and she was looking forward to it.
She looked straight ahead at the stones of the yard’s wall and waited patiently while the girl teased her with flicks of the cane and quick forages with her fingers into her cunt.
“Hmm, quite wet! Mr Lang did do a good job on you. First time down for the cane they’re usually pretty dry.”
Angel knew that to be true, but then she was lucky. She knew her master wanted her caned.
The first full strength strike made her blink as she was knocked forwards. There was a second’s numbness and then a blaze was lit in her haunches that brought tears flooding to her eyes. Then the second landed and the urge to scream was almost irresistible as the pain mounted to an intensity she had never dreamed existed. The third nearly broke her but then she realised that she would be looking beautiful even as she suffered. In her mind’s eye she saw herself bent and spread legged, her buttocks rippling under the assault of the cane which was leaving its tramlines scoured across the smooth expanse of her arse. It was a familiar scene to her and she found it helped to visualise herself as anyone enjoying her caning would see her.
She bit down on the scream that the fourth made her want to let loose. She knew quite well that a slave making too much noise under the cane would spoil it for the master or mistress and she didn’t want to do that after choking on his sperm the previous night. She took two more strokes with no more than explosive hisses of expelled breath and fidgeting with her feet.
There was a pause and the girl’s hands explored her blazing hinds and made their way back into her cunt. Angel wasn’t at all surprised to feel how easily she was penetrated, the thought of what she looked like under the beating had been very arousing.
The girl started in again after a few minutes and delivered another six hard lashes. Angel had almost gone beyond pain by then and was instead hoping that when he saw her, her master would be pleased.
After the twelfth lash she was left, sniffing and blinking to wait for whatever would come her way and to her joy she heard male voices and heavy shoes crossing the yard from the house.
She felt hands stroking her lines and bruises, then feeling her cunt and commenting on how wet she was and how well the marks suited her. But all the time she listened for her master and she felt she could take the cane all day when he said what a fine arse she had.
“But she’s got a lot to learn,” he added. “She can’t suck cock to save her life.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Lockhart suggested.
“True. But I want her beaten a lot more as well.”
Eventually it was decided that Lockhart’s daughter should continue the lesson with the cane while the men would continue her lesson in cock sucking. After a bit of experimenting they found that if her wrist cuffs were moved up a hole on the front legs of the bench, her mouth was a reasonable height for their cocks. Once that had been found to be the case, the beating began again.
After the rest, the pain was even more intense and she couldn’t help giving a scream as each lash bit into her. But it was alright, she heard her master say that she screamed quite prettily and in any case with a mouthful of cock, it wouldn’t disturb anyone. One by one the men presented themselves at Angel’s mouth and as she jerked and screamed her way through a bitterly harsh caning, she sucked at their cocks again and again until finally, despite the agony of the cane she managed to get an ejaculation down smoothly.
There was amused applause and the men went indoors for a pre-lunch drink, leaving Angel, heavily striped and bruised, dripping with sweat and sperm and deliriously happy.
Chapter Eighteen
Carlo had brought the horse box up from The Lodge and so they travelled back in that. Angel’s hired car was returned and Peter Lang travelled in the front with Carlo. In the back his two new possessions made themselves comfortable in their stalls.
The men took the driving in turns and came back for a blow job when they took a break. They used Angel’s mouth exclusively, breaking her in to taking a man down smoothly. Ayesha just had to look on in envy as the thick shafts of cock stretched her mouth wide and then fucked her face. Once again she choked on the first couple of ejaculations and received the crop across her breasts as punishment. But by the end of the journey was achieving what Peter Lang considered an acceptable level of competence for a beginner.
Once back at CSL, Ayesha and Angel had to share a stall and they stayed for several days, long enough for Carlo to pierce Angel’s tongue and for the ring to begin to settle in. Her master held her down, kneeling at the block while the deed was done and his hands, steady and commanding on her shoulders made the pain worthwhile. And the heavy ring rendering her almost mute made her feel evermore like her Master’s creature and just like Ayesha.
The grooms adapted quickly to having Angel back on the premises as a slave, where once she had been a trainer. Patti was clearly itching to be allowed to play with her but no such order was forthcoming so the redhead beat anyone else who stepped out of line in the slightest until she was put to the whipping post in the yard herself by Tony, for having caned Eve far too hard for a slight misdemeanour.
The two girls found that as they were bedded down under one sheet, if they laid awake long enough to make sure all the others were asleep, their chains were long enough to allow one of them to wriggle herself upside down. And quietly they enjoyed leisurely sixty-nines, their noses jammed against the other’s perineum, their tongues aching as they rasped them over the other’s clitoris. They managed it for three nights but then fell asleep before they could return to their proper sleeping stations and were discovered by Raika in the morning.
Peter Lang tailored the punishment to fit the crime. In the training arena they were hung by their ankles back to back and with their hands clipped together behind their backs, only able to feel the other’s buttocks.
Angel was mortified at how angry her Master was and ashamed of her self indulgence. Of course he was perfectly right; a slave had no right to pleasure herself without permission and the fact that the sleeping arrangements rather shoved temptation in their faces was neither here nor there.
In the morning they were beaten across their breasts and stomachs. Then in the afternoon they were hauled up again, having only been lowered to lie in a heap on the sand of the arena, and whipped between their legs.
Angel could only think of how much pleasure she had always taken in seeing a girl spread out for her as she was for her Master. She had loved the individual structure of each girl’s cunt, the different ways the inner and outer lips, pouted, bloomed, quivered and opened as the whip fell. She had loved how the girls would cry out as the clit was struck. She had adored the long strike, going clear between the legs and landing along the arse crack.
Had the beating been for her master’s pleasure she would gladly have taken every lash he wanted to give her. But it was a punishment and the pace was slow, allowing them to fully savour the pain of each lash without adding to it quickly enough to allow her to build her own pleasure.
Carlo stood one side and her Master the other, taking it in turns to lash them.
“If you want to make the beast with two backs, you can take your punishment as a beast of two fronts,” he told them before the long afternoon began.
Patti led them back to the stables and she could have used the tongue leashes but chose instead to clip leashes to their bound wrists, run them forwards along their stinging and burning cunts and then heft the leads over her shoulder as she led them, hopping and yelping behind her.
They resisted temptation that night.
The fo
llowing day Peter Lang ran them as a two in hand. They were matched in height and made a striking sight; blonde and black haired. He tacked then up for dressage with gold bracelets and chains at their wrists, beautifully crafted gold filigree bands at their upper arms and ankles. And bells at their breasts.
Ornamental golden nipple caps were placed on them, and gold spiralled out to crown the breast itself. From the tip of the nipple cover hung tiny bells that nevertheless had a carrying chime. The whole assembly was kept in place by a pin through the nipple. Ayehsa was clearly used to them and made no fuss but when her master tried to pierce her Angel she made such a fuss that Carlo had to hold her shoulders.
Once her tender flesh had given way to the steel and the pain had subsided to a nagging ache, Angel was thrilled at how the bells jingled when her master slapped her breasts and made them swing.
She had pierced many girls herself but now, as she listened to the bells chiming as she was walked to the cart she was to pull, she realised that she was the really lucky one. The piercer only got the pleasure of performing the act; the slave, however, continued to enjoy the pain and the pride of wearing her master’s mark
She also soon discovered that running in harness with a dildo inside her whilst trying to co-ordinate her every movement with Ayesha’s was not as easy as she had assumed. She didn’t regret for one minute any of the whippings she had dealt out to girls that she felt were being recalcitrant or just stupid, she just appreciated the fact that her master needed to lash her as hard as he did and was delighted by his quiet words of approval when she managed to get her knee lift to match her partner’s precisely. Learning to keep her blinkered head steadily facing forwards while she tried to absorb everything else that was being beaten into her was a task that she found a pleasing challenge. In the end she hardly noticed the ache at her nipples and the tinkling of the bells. But nevertheless she pranced and shied as the needles were withdrawn back at the stable while Ayesha was bent forwards over the crossbar of the cart and fucked by their master. She was grateful for the chance to kneel before him afterwards and lick his softening shaft clean.
Before she was returned to her stall Carlo and her master had her bend and touch her toes with her legs spread, being so blatantly exposed to so many eyes as the grooms went about their business, made her alert to what was being said about her. The discussion focussed on her backside, her buttocks still carried traces of the cane and the day’s whipping and she felt her master’s fingers trace their courses from hip to hip. But it was at the puckered crater of her anus that they stopped the most.
“She’s tight as a duck’s,” she heard him tell Carlo and was immediately distraught at not being satisfactory for him.
“She probably only had the occasional strap-on up it from Sadia,” Carlo said.
Angel wished she could help matters by explaining that Sadia had very rarely buggered her, preferring her cunt instead – although both of them had happily buggered the slaves often enough.
“I’ll have to stretch it in due course. She’ll be more responsive in harness when she’s double plugged.”
Angel just wished he would do it. If it would make her more pleasing to him.
“I’ve got a medium sized one I keep in case we ever get a tight one. Just shove it in and let her get used to it.” Oh, please! She thought. Make me the way you want me.
“Tempting but we’ve got to be going tomorrow,” her master said. “I’ve sorted out a flight for us.” He slapped Angel’s haunch and pulled her upright before handing her over to a groom. The last thing Angel heard as she was led away was that her master was taking her home and it was a mark of how deeply subservient she was to him now that she could face that with complete calmness, as long as he was with her.
Sadia had been left dumbstruck by Peter Lang’s phone call. And two days later she still didn’t really believe it. Angel enslaved? Not Angel! Not her cool, cruel Angel who dominated every slave in the place, who would happily have a girl strung up and whipped every day if that was what it took to bend her to her will.
But nevertheless she decided to play it carefully. Just in case he was telling the truth, she arranged for the truck picking him up from the airport to come directly to the main door of the house, thus bypassing the training ground. If Angel really was being delivered back in a CSL crate, it might not be good for the slaves’ morale to see her.
When the truck’s arrival was announced Sadia went to the front door with keen curiosity and even when she saw the two crates unloaded from under the tarpaulin on the back of the pick up, she had trouble believing her own eyes. Hog tied and travel stained it might be but there was no mistaking the blonde figure lying next to Ayesha.
Rather stunned, not sure how to react and unsure even about her own feelings towards Angel and Peter Lang, she shook his hand and invited him in.
“Have these two put in the cells by the playroom,” she instructed the guards before following her guest indoors.
Over drinks in her office Peter explained how he had enslaved Sadia’s erstwhile trainer and how he had also enslaved Ayesha.
“Well, Peter! You’ve given me some real problems here,” she said when he had finished. “I have an empty space in my bed and a vacancy on my training staff with a home fixture only a matter of weeks away.”
“I stopped off at CSL for a few days on my way here, as you recall I rang you from John Carpenter’s office. I have a feeling that I might be able to assist you and repair some of the damage I’ve done the Girl Squad; damage that I greatly regret. However you must admit, Countess, that the prospect of having a properly subservient Angel at one’s beck and call is a temptation that no one could resist!”
Sadia laughed. “I have to admit that I cannot hold that against you! She is a gorgeous creature.”
“In talking with Carlo and Brian, it turned out that you have a slave here who used to work for CSL. I can’t promise anything just yet but if you would give me a few minutes in here with her alone, we might find out that the solution to our problems is very close at hand.”
Sadia’s interest was immediately piqued; and not simply because of the need to appoint a new trainer urgently. Ninety-seven had made an impression way beyond what her status would have suggested she was capable of. The brutality of Angel’s revenge was testimony in itself, so she happily left Peter alone in the office and had the girl summoned to him.
Once Amelia had been released from the sick bay and returned to the squad, she had once again been singled out for Angel’s special treatment. With several weeks to go before the next games, it was quite proper to use a live target for whip drill. The only thing was that it was always Amelia who spun and yelped at the end of a rope as girl after girl was put through her paces to hone her speed and accuracy.
However, when Angel left it seemed as if the squad was just marking time. She had clearly not intended to be gone for more than a day or two and had left no orders concerning ongoing training. As the days went by and still she didn’t reappear, some of the senior guards tried to organise a schedule of runs, sparring fights and assault course running, but the slaves themselves didn’t put their hearts into it; even when the solitary pits were returned to full use. Sadia held several punishment sessions and wielded the lash herself but it just wasn’t the same.
Freed of Angel’s spite, Amelia had found herself increasingly angry with the whole set up. She fumed at the lack of discipline and drive, she wanted to be pushed to perform at her absolute limits, she wanted to face opponents on the training ground but what she increasingly found herself doing - after the games at the Orange stadium – was laying out in her mind what the Girl Squad ought to be doing. Who should be made to go on runs to slim them down a bit, which girls needed drilling in studded whip wielding, which of them needed pursuit running practice.
It wasn’t what she had longed for. She had longed for total submission to the will of a trainer but now she had tasted the power a trainer had, she couldn’t be at ease.
“You know who I am?” he asked, standing up and approaching her. She nodded.
He seemed satisfied and turned to a battered leather bag on the floor, from which he took a sturdy leather hood.
“Sadia has given me permission to see if we can’t break you of these ideas above your station that Angel has been complaining of,” he told her as he came towards her with the hood held so it could be slipped over her head.
Amelia’s patience finally snapped. If she was being indisciplined then it was Angel’s or Sadia’s job to whip her back into line. And if they couldn’t do it then they didn’t deserve to own a stable. She backed away but he was too agile and quick. A leather-scented darkness descended on her as sight and sound were utterly denied her under the thick padding. A draw string was pulled tight at her neck and the darkness and imprisonment was complete. For a second or two she snorted in panic through her nose as she realised that even her mouth was blocked, but once she had quietened down, she felt an ear pad being unzipped.
“Now, I’m going to clip a lead to your collar and you’re going to walk with me in the dark.” Lang’s voice was close beside her and hardly had she registered his words than she was marooned in darkness and silence once more.
She felt a lead being clipped to her collar and tugged.
She resisted. Who did he think he was? Who did any of them think they were? She had come looking for the rigours of true submission and slavery – and now the stable was falling apart in front of her and they had had to bring in this man because they couldn’t control her. Well to hell with all of them!