by Sean O'Kane
Soon after that training had begun again but it was different. This time she had to practise running as hard as she could and catching an oval ball thrown from behind her. The other slaves were detailed off to charge into her and try to stop her making the catch. She had to learn how to dodge and twist away from them whilst keeping her eye on the ball that seemed to hang in the air, and then she could leap and take it into her chest or stomach safely and Brian or Tony would give her a treat and pet her. Then Tony left and a man they all called Mister Lang came. He frightened Anna because it seemed that even Brian deferred to him and he seemed to be able to look right through a girl and assess her entire personality with just one look.
But then quite soon, Tony was back. They were out on the training ground, practising the strange moves the men commanded them to, which consisted of all of them running but some of them ordered to barge into others from behind and try to trip their targets up. The targets had forearm guards on and if they weren’t brought down would swipe their attackers hard with them. Anna and several others were bleeding from mouths and noses, but they were learning to make very sure that any girl they attacked went down and stayed there. A van bearing the CSL logo pulled onto the ground and Tony jumped out. Immediately they were told to stand easy and Anna watched as a crate was unloaded and opened.
She couldn’t help giving a squeal of excitement as a blonde girl was taken out and released from her hog tie. It was Tracey.
The noise inside the CSL training stadium was beyond deafening. The naked steel of its shell echoed the roar of the roller skates on wood supported on a steel framework and the yells and screams of twenty girls reverberated until the sounds overlapped and merged into one painful tsunami of volume.
Brian stood in the middle of the track – or the in-field as it was called - and turned, following the action. The defence team was practising keeping its own offence at bay. All the girls had foam guards on their forearms and soft leather mittens on their fists, the main event was only a fortnight away and injuries had to be avoided if at all possible. But even as he watched, one defender managed to forearm smash a girl and send her pinwheeling over the rails. He blew a blast on his whistle that was shrill enough to penetrate the din and ducked under the track where it was built up and banked at each end to allow the girls to skate round at full speed, to check on the downed girl. He knelt by the writhing, naked figure and made sure she was only winded by the fall from seven or eight feet. Her basic training in taking falls had stood her in good stead. They had debated whether to put gym mats down to soften the falls in training, but eventually had decided that they might as well get used to falling onto hard ground. There would be nothing soft for them in the Northern Lights’ arena.
As the girl tottered up and took a minute or two to recover, Tony entered and came across.
“Mostyn’s coming down. Mr Lang just told me,” he said.
“Well, we’ve got some kind of team to show him at least,” Brian replied looking up at the other slaves who were either leaning on the rails getting their breath back or were lying flat out, chests heaving.
He urged the slave back to the level straights on the circuit and she vaulted back over the rails.
“Right! Come on you lazy bitches! Let’s be having you. Pass prevention practice now.”
He vaulted onto the track too and walked across to pick up the ball from the in-field and tossed it to the blonde Passer.
“Ace! Get out front!” he ordered. “Now, Defence, stop the Passer getting that ball to Ace. Remember the rush defence we practised yesterday!” he blew his whistle again and again the stadium was drowned in the roar and noise of the girls throwing themselves into the fray.
The blonde stayed back while four of her teammates guarded her. The Defence turned against the direction of skating and tried to burst through the cordon of four girls protecting the Passer, whose attention had to be focussed on the Receiver. Meanwhile at the front, another four defending girls were desperately trying to stop Ace from being overwhelmed by a phalanx of girls who were using the ‘whip’ to try and burst through. A whip was when one or two girls took a third girl by her hand and skated as fast as they could, then literally hurled her forwards as they built up momentum. The whipped girl could achieve frightening speeds, and at the favourite time which was when they were coming down off the banked turns and onto the flat straights, it was difficult for a defence to stop her, even if there was a cordon of girls holding hands across the track.
Brian watched as the blonde steadied herself, ignoring the scrapping going on in front of her and launched the ball along the length of the track. One of the attackers had indeed got through, scattering two defenders who were sent crashing into the rails, but Ace, skating backwards as if she had done it every day of her life, kept her eyes fixed on the ball, then leapt and took it cleanly, throwing out a roller-skate-clad foot as she did so and taking the charging attacker in the midriff.
Brian blew up again. “Time out!” he called. “Nice work everyone.” He went over to the downed Defence player as she sat up and checked her for rib damage.
“We should use some of the reserves for this,” Tony said. “It’ll be a miracle if they get to the big day in one piece.”
“No. Defence and Offence have got to get there well used to going up against the best opposition we can provide. We’ll have to ride our luck.”
Anna had never in her life put on roller skates and like all the others her naked body was covered in bruises for a fortnight before she began to get the hang of it and thrill to the speeds she could achieve. But like all the other girls, she was exhausted and stiff after each day endlessly circling the track. And then they had to learn how to turn and face behind them while still skating in the same direction they had been. Then they had to learn how to ‘whip’ and then learn how to crouch on their skates to try and get underneath the linked arms of the opposing team. Then learn how to grapple with an opponent against the rails and tip her over if possible. That was the only time gym mats had been deployed. For nearly a week, day after day, they had methodically learned holds and throws that could be applied fast and which would send an opponent screaming over the rails and down to earth. It was important they retained the screams even after they had mastered the throws and the falls. They all knew that the arenas had to give good value, so always they had to make it look good.
She had learned her function as Receiver and knew she was good at it now. It had taken a few evenings out in the yard at the whipping post to encourage her though. Lashed by her trainer’s tongue as well as his whip, she had found no pleasure in those beatings, only shame in front of her teammates. They had all been there and all knew that shame. No matter how badly treated a slave, she would always take pride in belonging to her owner or trainer and to his team, so his displeasure was a punishment all on its own. Tracey, with whom she now shared a stall to help bond Passer and Receiver, Brian had said, had taken several heavy beatings before she fully got to grips with all the skills required and Anna had had to cuddle up to her and kiss her welts and cuts better as she sobbed herself to sleep. No matter how many chips and chains and whips a girl was subjected to, she thought in the dark as she felt Tracey’s warm body beside her, we all just want to be someone’s Good Girl.
“Good girl! Don’t disturb me now,” Clive Mostyn leaned over the hooded slave once more, took a pinch of breastflesh between thumb and forefinger and pushed a needle through it. The body heaved slightly beneath him but there was no noise from within the leather hood. He was designing a pattern of needles that spiralled in towards her nipple, just two more now he reckoned and then it would be the nipple itself. After that he would start on her right breast. He stood back and surveyed the spectacular body stretched out on the rack before him. He noticed the tremors running down across the stomach towards the girl’s delta and smiled. Her legs were spread and strapped down to the opened limbs of the rack. When he was ready he would be able to step between them and help himself to
an easy and relaxed fuck.
“You still reckon this one’s as much of a find as you first thought?” he asked Brian as he bent back to his work on the breast, opening another sterile package and extracting the needle within.
“Oh yes. She’s the real deal. Took to the Derby with no problem,” Brian replied from across the dungeon. He had the Passer hung by her ankles and was working between her wide spread thighs, clamping her labia having whipped them soundly beforehand. She was not hooded but was being kept quiet by having his cock spearing deep into her throat. An occasional tremor ran through her too as her ordeal became more extreme. It had been decided that the girls had earned a treat before going into a lock down prior to the big event so twenty guards from the Angels and the Proteus stables had been bussed in and The Lodge’s dungeons were in full use. The room that Tony, Brian and Clive Mostyn were occupied in had had its main lights dimmed and a warm, comfortable light was being shed by candles mounted in the cunts of two Housegirls, also ankle suspended. Their twitches and jerks as the molten wax hit them at unpredictable intervals made the shadows swing and gave the naked flesh on display an eerie look, as if the reality was only a flickering image on some screen. Next to Brian, Tony began to wield a heavy paddle over the backside of another girl, tied down over a whipping bench. The heavy smacks and answering squeals made the other two men return to their respective tasks. Despite the penis gag in the mouthpiece of the hood, Ace’s squeal was audible as the needle emerged from her nipple. Clive stood back and admired his handiwork, then slapped her on the flank.
“Steady now, girl. You’re looking good for a load more yet,” he told her and brushed his hand across her vulva. The juice was dripping in long strands from her cunt down to the floor. “Yes, plenty more!” he said, reaching for the needles as the slave that Tony was beating orgasmed loudly and the lights swung as more wax hit the Housegirls. “Oh yes!” and the heir apparent to Number Ten Downing Street went back to work on the promising young slave beneath him.
Chapter Fifteen
When they were finally taken out to a truck and chained to seats within it, a sure sign that they were on their way to an arena, the twenty girls of the Mostyn team still had no idea of what exactly they were going into. It was only after a long drive when they were unloaded outside an arena which was in full use to judge by the roars and cheers coming from inside, that anything was explained to them. They were taken to a shed that stood beside the perimeter fence and found a simple room with bunk beds, showers and primitive toilets. She could tell that Brian was not impressed and Tony disappeared off immediately, to complain, she imagined. But as they were freed to lie or sit on their beds he told them what was going on.
They were not taking part in a Games as such. They would be on after the Games had finished, which would be very shortly. They would be up against a team that had been put together specially just as they had. But there was no question of losing. It simply wasn’t an option under any circumstances. His face was grave as he spoke and this made Anna pay special attention, but what really brought home the importance of the competition was that there was no threat. He didn’t promise to flay them every day for a week, or hang them in the pits for a fortnight or any of the other punishments a losing team might expect. It seemed that this was so important, losing was, by itself, more of a punishment than anything else could be. She could tell by the way the others all sat motionless and attentive that they too had spotted this.
Tony came back to tell them that this was the best the host stable could do while they still had an away team to cater for as well.
“I saw the Andrews team and they’re no better off,” he concluded.
“How did they look?” Brian asked as he walked out and Anna could hear the tension in his voice as he left but the closing door prevented her from hearing more.
But in a few minutes one of the CSL grooms brought in their gear and they began to get kitted up. They wore short kilts of deep blue, which were new to them, but their skates were all named so that each girl got the ones she had become used to. They buckled on their arm guards and then sat and waited, idly twirling their skates and their gum shields, which they had been fitted with only the previous day. Anna could appreciate the reasoning behind this. An arena slave knew she would get all sorts of stuffing knocked out of her and was used to it. The fact she was being given some protection meant that getting really hurt was a definite possibility. It had been best to spring that one on them at the last minute. Tracey came to sit beside her and they, like many of the others took advantage of the rare opportunity given by having their hands free to give their friends and lovers a hug.
Quite soon they were called for by Brian.
“Follow me,” he told them simply. “Don’t let yourself get drawn into any skirmishes with the other team before the ‘off’. Ok?” They nodded and without any more words he turned and led them out.
They walked out onto the open ground surrounding the arena and could hear the excited buzz of the crowd as it settled down after the finale to the Games. As Anna ‘s team came nearer they could see the slaves either limping out or being carried out of the arena and doused in cold water before being taken to their barracks. From inside the arena under the crowd noise, came the clanging of metal on metal and the thudding of heavy wood. It was the modular track being constructed, Brian told them as they took their seats in the vacated dressing room, where the visiting team’s vet was just clearing away her implements and swabbing down the examination table.
Eventually they heard the PA crackle into life and the compere addressed the crowd.
“Well this is it, Ladies and Gentlemen!” he said as the crowd hushed but the sounds of construction continued. “This is possibly the most momentus competition in arena history! Clive Mostyn has challenged Phil Andrews to a Demolition Derby. Both men have said that they will support the arenas if elected, but which one will you support, ladies and gentlemen? We like winners in the arenas, don’t we!” There was a roar of assent from the crowd. “So let’s cheer on our two teams tonight and let the toughest, the fastest and the best team win!”
Brian said nothing as they listened to the announcement but he didn’t need to.
Eventually the construction noises stopped and the compere’s voice boomed out again.
“Okay! Let’s get ready to welcome our two teams! Let’s get ready to rock and roll!”
Brian stirred. He stood up and looked at them all, then gave them a quick smile. “Let’s go,” he said. “Win. That’s all. Just win.”
They trooped out behind him with Tony bringing up the rear. In the tunnel outside they halted while the opposition slaves were led out from their dressing room and the two teams glared at each other. Each team might have been drawn from different stables but they were one unit now and their trainer’s enemy was theirs.
Once all forty girls were lined up they walked out into a floodlit arena, the harsh light making them blink for a few minutes as they absorbed both it and the deafening roar of the crowd, which was really getting its money’s worth today.
Anna’s team was taken in to the in-field by clambering under the scaffolding holding up the banking at the far end of the track and they emerged into the in-field on the right side of the tall net that separated the two teams and made sure a pass had to be completed along the length of the track and not across it.
They sat on a long bench and strapped on their skates while the compere did some more spiel and then the two sponsors of this epic addition to a Games took a bow from the Owner’s box and then Brian and his opposite number took the toss, it came down heads and Andrews’ team – in yellow skirts – won. They chose to go on the attack for the first jam. That meant that Anna and Tracey sat it out.
The ten girls of the Mostyn team’s defence lined up in front of the ten girls of the Andrews attack force. The crowd settled. There was a moment’s silence and then the pistol sounded. The noise was as instant as it was deafening. The two teams frantically kick
ed off and got up to speed after the first turn. The Yellows launched their first whip straight after it and sent a girl hurtling along the outside of the first straight. The Blues saw her coming and she was barged into the rails but kept her feet. Then two girls together tried to barge straight through the middle of the pack of the Blues and the scuffling continued as the teams started a second lap. On the banked boarding they whipped again, but on the inside. The Yellow team’s girl was sent hurtling along, crouching down and was only stopped by a Blue girl throwing herself at her from the side and taking her into the in-field. The two semi-naked slaves, slammed into the ground and tumbled and rolled, throwing up water buckets, sponges and spray cans as they fought and rolled to a standstill, then both scrambled back onto the track where a Yellow had broken through the Blue’s cordon and had turned and was hitting out at the defence behind her, until she herself was put into a headlock by a Blue girl who also turned and took her headfirst into the flimsily covered rails at the top of the banking on the next turn. A section of the crowd went wild as the Yellow girl was left sitting, dazed on the track until two Blues managed to kick at her as they sped past. One kick caught her left breast and even as that was played back on the giant monitors in gleeful slo-mo, the Yellow team went mad and a rolling free for all developed. Punching, kicking and hair pulling the twenty girls rolled on in a flesh coloured crowd until one Yellow emerged with a Blue held by the nipples, she spun her around and around as her screams rose into the night and then let go. With a despairing wail the girl disappeared over the railings and the Yellow Receiver broke through. Immediately the Blue defence separated into two groups, one to impede the Passer, one to impede the Receiver. A ball was thrown out from the in-field to the Passer and the three Blue defenders launched themselves against the four Yellow guards. They crouched low, and slowed themselves, letting the Yellows come into them and threw one of the guards straight into a somersault by joining hands and whipping her legs out from under her. She landed flat on her bottom, legs straight out in front of her and bounced then curled up in agony. The Passer got a ball away nonetheless and a pass was completed. The compere acknowledged it and a cheer went up but another cheer went up as the Blue girl who had been thrown clear managed to vault back over the rails during the next lap and the Yellows made three incomplete passes until their injured played managed to get back to her feet. She tottered up hanging onto the rails and was immediately hit by a Blue who got her in a headlock as she skated on, the Yellow girl’s injured bottom and cunt were fully on display and cheered loudly by all parts of the crowd. But, refusing to be distracted and with two more Blues joining in pummelling the unfortunate Yellow, the Yellow Passer and Receiver managed to complete two more passes in quick succession.