THE PRIZE

by Sean O'Kane

  “There’re twenty more who want to pound you tomorrow and then you’ll be one of them. They just have to let you know you’re the new girl.”

  Ayesha just let his voice wash over her, she was lying with her arms hanging limply over the edges of the table, her face was turned to her right and she was looking at an array of canes and whips hanging on the stone wall. Inside her there was a hard, thick length of pure manhood which was somehow relieving the pain, making it recede. She gave a groan of surrender to the pleasure of the moment and began to rock and swing her hips, feeling the exquisite friction inside her.

  “There that’s your back patched up. Let’s have you over and do your tits.”

  She moaned in despair as he withdrew but with practised ease flipped her over, dragged her a little further down the table and slipped back inside her. She looked up at him as he bent forwards and began to apply disinfectant to her scratched breasts. Her gasps of pain made her stomach ripple and clench, stimulating her vagina even further. She clenched herself around his cock.

  “That’s the girl,” the trainer said, not breaking his concentration for a second even though he clearly felt her body clasp him tight. Suddenly Ayesha was desperate for him to start moving inside her. Recklessly she lifted her legs and clamped them together behind his hips while she again started her own gyrations.

  “Good!” he said, again frowning in concentration as he lifted one breast to dab at a graze. “Soon have you fighting and fucking with the best of them. Down in the barracks about now, they’re begging the guards to screw them. The crueller the show, the harder they fuck.”

  His words and his hands on her breasts, for some reason made Ayesha groan with need and her movements became more urgent.

  “If it’s any comfort, once they’ve beaten the crap out of you again tomorrow, I’ll pick on a few and take them down a peg or two.”

  The thought of some of her tormentors going under the trainer’s whip made her buck more urgently still.

  “After that I’ll put you in my special place, Ayesha, then you and I will get to know each other very well indeed.”

  He began to move inside her at long last and Ayesha, beyond all caring, put her head back and moaned in abandonment.

  “This is another lesson. Take any pleasure you can, wherever and whenever you can.”

  Ayesha’s howl of assent echoed round the small room and was followed by her trainer’s sigh of satisfaction as he spent himself inside her exhausted body.

  Peter Lang watched as the unconscious, naked form was dragged from the room by two of the guards. All in all he was very pleased, she had shown great promise. Out in the yard she had begged and pleaded for mercy with the succession of girls who had queued up to knock her down but she had hung on very well indeed and had even made sporadic efforts to defend herself right up until the nineteenth girl. He had kept careful count.

  Chapter 11

  Halfway round the world, Ayesha’s lover was making another room echo with her howls. This one was deep underneath an outwardly unremarkable house in north London. Inside however, it accommodated the offices of a very quiet branch of H.M Customs and Excise. In the cellars, which were only reached through a heavy sound proof door at the head of the stairs were the interrogation rooms. Each room was split into two; in one part was a simple table and two chairs, in the other were sophisticated recording and communication devices. At present, Karen wasn’t concerned about those, although Brian had shown her around before he got down to work. Her main concern at that moment was the unsophisticated but highly effective cane that was causing her bottom extreme discomfort. She wriggled it a little to try and absorb the bitter sting of the last cut. In this echoing, sinister little room the cane made a deliciously exciting swish and smack. She could just about feel her vaginal reaction to it between her legs, although the raging inferno in her buttocks was making it difficult.

  “Now, where did he go on Thursday?” Brian asked again.

  Karen swallowed after her scream. “I...I’ve told you,” she said breathlessly. “Chicago!”

  “No, sorry, I don’t believe you.”

  Ssshwack!

  Karen tossed her head back and arched rigid for a second, pinned and half choked by the pain of the cut. He had angled it so that it crossed all her other welts. Somewhere in the midst of the tumult inside her she was sure she came.

  The games had become steadily harsher over the weeks culminating in this weekend visit to the cellars of the deserted offices. They both knew perfectly well that Brian had had tabs on Sir John all week and didn’t need to interrogate Karen. But as she herself had admitted whilst taking the golf bag containing the canes, the crop and the rest of the growing arsenal kept for her discipline, from the boot of Brian’s car, why waste a good excuse for a beating? What was more, being made to hike up her dress and bend over a real interrogation table in a real interrogation room had made her very excited.

  She collapsed forwards and lay panting, her hands loosening their grips on the edges of the table. Brian came to stand in front of her and pick her head up by clenching a hand in her hair. She gazed groggily up at him and noted with a delicious tingle, the long, hard bulge in the front of his trousers.

  “Are you ready to tell me the truth?” he asked.

  “Screw you! You bastard,” she whispered. He gave her a small smile.

  “Very well then. Stand up and strip completely.”

  Karen slowly pushed herself up until she was standing. Even the silk of her dress falling back down over her buttocks was a torment; she had counted fifteen strokes - hard ones. She still desperately missed Ayesha and although she was increasingly worried by how much harder the games with Brian were becoming she had to keep him interested so he could tell her how the search was going. After this session was over - and it was a good one she had to admit - he would update her.

  She played her part out, flicking her hair back proudly. “Make me!” she sneered.

  His hand shot out and gripped the neck of her dress then wrenched downwards with thrilling strength. The sound of the material tearing filled the small room and launched spears of dangerous excitement from Karen’s nipples down to her belly. With strong tugs he ripped the fragments from her, making her jerk about until finally she was left in just bra, suspender belt, stockings and heels - her knickers had gone when she had first bent over.

  “Strip,” he ordered and this time she obeyed.

  Once she was naked, apart from the shoes, he led her over to the door, earlier she had watched as he had screwed a hook into the lintel and this he now tied her wrists to. It stretched her to just the right degree and she found herself pressed against the wood of the door and straining up onto tip toes.

  “Tell me everything I want to know now, or you’ll take thirty hard ones before I bother asking again,” Brian whispered, standing close behind her and gripping his fingers harshly into her breasts.

  Karen swallowed nervously and mentally begged Ayesha’s forgiveness for the amount of pleasure she was about to get.

  “Get stuffed!” she whispered back.

  In the event she took sixty lashes. As he had promised they were good and hard and punctuated by bouts of violent feeling into her cunt and anus. She came several times and reflected ruefully when he let her down that quite soon he could become as cruel as Ayesha had been. With her legs spread she leaned her back against the cool wood and let him feel up inside her wantonly flooding cunt with one hand and squeeze and torment her breasts and nipples with the other. Then he flung her down onto the floor and took her there, gouging her scorching back with his fingernails as he ploughed into her. The urgency of his need and the cruelty of the degradation he inflicted on her by shagging her on the bare floor made her forget Ayesha for a few seconds while she matched him, thrust for thrust, cramming every last inch of him as deep inside her as she could get him.

  Afterwards she knelt in front of him in the office and as she sucked him back into erection she listened to the so
unds of her caning on the video he was replaying. He told her what little he had been able to find out.

  “Have you heard of the arenas?” he asked.

  She stopped sucking for a moment and let him slip slowly and sensuously from her lips.

  “Yes, I’ve heard them mentioned at various parties. Always by the men though, and there’s been some talk in the papers,” she gave his glistening cock a thoughtful lick. “I think John knows something about them. Why?”

  He sat forwards and grabbed her hair, tilting her face upwards.

  “What does he know?”

  “I’m not sure....it’s just....I heard a bit of a phone conversation. I walked into John’s office once and he was mentioning something about squads and bets and ponies and knowing somebody. I never thought about it again until I saw something in the papers. Then he went away for several days and when he came back he was different somehow.....rougher with me. Almost like I always wanted him to be but then he.......why?”

  “I think Ayesha’s been abducted by the owner of one of the arenas. That Prince she flew out with is almost certainly one of them. And I managed to track down one of the flight crew. She was taken off the plane and one of the airport staff told them to forget what they’d seen.”

  Karen looked at his semi-tumescent cock and tried to remember what she had ever heard about the arenas. But surely they couldn’t be as vile as the Roman ones.........could they? Suddenly she needed comfort and she needed to hear everything he had learned.

  “Tell me,” she said and leaned forward to enclose him in her lips again.

  Brian dropped her off round the corner from Sir John’s town house and watched her walk away. Even after he’d screwed her twice and she’d given him a blow job to die for, the way her hips moved under the dress she’d brought to wear home, made him throb back towards erection despite the fact that he was trapped.

  If he didn’t bring in Sir John, it would cost him his job. But in order to nail him, he had to bring Ayesha back - and with Ayesha back, Karen would undoubtedly run to her.

  He didn’t think he could stand not being able to explore the places her masochism took him to.

  The only good thing to come out of the mess was the fact that Ayesha was almost certainly being held as a slave for one of the arenas. He had never paid them much attention up until now but once he started looking into them and downloaded some files it had been a revelation. There were beautiful women fighting whip duels and taking part in thrillingly cruel boxing contests or pulling carts in races. The losers were put to whipping posts each time and one of the guards would hold up fingers to indicate a number of lashes and the tally would go on increasing until the crowd gave it the thumbs up. He grinned, heaven help those girls who didn’t put their hearts and souls into each and every fight. But they did look so wonderfully erotic as they spun and twisted under the lashes, and at the end the flagellator would poke his fingers up between their thighs and then hold them up for the cameras to see the wetness.

  He shook his head in admiration. How did they manage to find so many masochists? He tore himself away from happy thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on how to find Ayesha de la Tour. Once that was done, he would just have to see.

  Ayesha just lay face down and looked at the dirt on the ground of the yard. She simply couldn’t move. After a night’s sleep she had been hauled back out for the end of her lesson. All those girls who hadn’t had a chance to whip her, throw her or punch her to the ground were given that chance and took full advantage. The last few to demonstrate that she was at the bottom of the pecking order had again had to recruit two colleagues to hold her up while they finished her off. .

  Running through Ayesha’s mind were the trainer’s words about weakness only being a greater spur to cruelty in the arena. But she had nothing to fight back with and could only sag pathetically between the girls holding her until finally she was allowed to fall. She couldn’t even summon up enough energy to lick at the juice-slicked sexes presented to her mouth and in the end the girls just rubbed themselves symbolically on her face. Now she lay in a dazed heap under the scorching sun and prayed it was all over. A shadow fell across her and the trainer’s hands began a careful exploration of her ribs. She grunted and gasped from time to time but had no energy to do anything else.

  “Just bruises. My girls know how far they can go,” he said with pride. “Now watch, Ayesha.”

  He stood up and went back to the crowd of naked gladiators.

  “Well done! You’ve taught her a good lesson, one she won’t forget. But there was some slacking.......”

  Ayesha had managed to turn herself over and ease herself up enough to see him stalk through his squad. His last words sobered them up.

  “Some of you weren’t really making as good a show as you could have! Some of you just thumped an easy target and left it at that. You know that’s not good enough! You must always put on a show! That’s why we take so much time and trouble with you! Why we give you somewhere comfortable to sleep, someone comfortable to sleep with! Food, even clothes sometimes!”

  There was nervous laughter. Ayesha realised that the squad knew what was coming but also knew he wasn’t seriously angry.

  “When has any girl here gone short of a good fuck and a thrashing? Never! And that’s how you repay us?” He began touching certain girls on their shoulders and the guards sprang into action, darting in and leading away those girls he had picked. “Form a line and witness punishment!”

  With the discipline Ayesha was beginning to recognise, the girls formed up in two ranks facing an area of the courtyard where iron rings had been mounted in the ground. The girls who had been selected by the trainer were standing facing the lines of their colleagues with their legs spread apart and their hands on their heads. The guards were busily clipping the girls’ ankle restraints to the rings and then clipping their wrist restraints to the rings at the backs of their collars. When all was prepared, six guards stood, armed with the heavy-bladed floggers, in front of the six condemned girls.

  “Squad will count the lashes! Hands on heads!” The trainer barked his orders and for some reason there was a muted groan of disappointment but Ayesha had no time for any speculation as the trainer came over to her and hauled her to her feet.

  “You need to see this too!” he said as he dragged her to one end of the front rank. Partially supporting her on her shaky legs with one hand, he raised the other. All the gladiators and the guards watched him. He dropped his arm and immediately the guards swung their whips and beside her the shout of “One!” went up. The first lash had been laid on across the breasts and Ayesha watched in fascination as six pairs of variously sized and coloured tits, swung and bounced in response. Their owners making strained grunts as they absorbed the pain.

  “Two!” Again the massed shout from beside her and this time the whips were swung up and between the spread legs. Ayesha winced as she watched the girls’ stomachs clench and the faces contort in the wake of the solid Smack! of leather on labia. The girls’ feet fidgeted and their fingers stretched behind their heads as they soaked up another stinging pain.

  “Three!” The whips swung back across the breasts. Ayesha watched as some of the torsos tried to twist away and some bent forwards in an instinctive protective reaction. Some girls uttered plaintive little yelps.

  “Four!” Again the massed count and again the whips swung up between the legs. Explosive gasps of breath escaped the slaves. Their feet performed urgent little shuffles as they desperately tried to ready themselves for the next lash and absorb the last one.

  “Five!” After the same ponderous interval the count was called again and again the whips swung and smacked across their targets.

  Ayesha watched the whole spectacle in spellbound horror at first but gradually she was reminded of some of the better sessions with Karen; ones where they had had time and she had been able to make her suffer so exquisitely under slow drips of molten wax, or endure beatings where maybe only ten
lashes would be laid on and Ayesha would leave her for an hour or two before going near her again. How she had begged and pleaded for mercy! Not for the mercy of release but the mercy of being allowed to experience her full punishment and achieve orgasm under it. Even through all the pains that racked her, Ayesha felt a hot moisture begin to seep into her belly.

  The tally had mounted into double figures and the line of punished slaves was becoming more ragged as they twisted and tugged at their bonds and shackles.

  Ayesha’s eye was caught by the girl nearest her, the guard in front of her was about to deliver yet another uppercut lash and with growing excitement, Ayesha watched her pelvis tilt forwards, offering the soft-lipped slit of her sex for the heavy leathers and when they slapped home she watched the girl’s head tilt back and her pelvis make short sharp forward thrusts. She knew quite well what she was witnessing and all up and down the line it was happening. The noises were now throaty moans and gasps and urgent panting as the slaves waited feverishly for the slow count to bring the next lash which would take them soaring into the regions of blinding pleasure. Her eyes flicked to the watching girls who were still keeping the score and suddenly Ayesha realised why the trainer had ordered hands to be placed on heads. That way he could see at a glance where they were. The girls were counting but with even more fidgeting than the whipped ones, she could see fingers clenching in frustration and as the slow count hit thirty, she licked her puffy and swollen lips to savour the taste of woman on them and one hand began to trail down across her stomach.

  “Don’t even think of it!” the trainer whispered in her ear before announcing the final ten lashes were to be taken from behind and they were to be laid on hard. There was a collective sigh from the frantic onlookers as the guards went behind the girls, took a firm hold on their hair and waited for the count to start.