by Sean O'Kane
That night, whether it was because of the danger or not, Sophie felt him slide into her almost right up to the neck of her womb and immediately she set about grinding herself on him and pounding up against him as she sought for her own release. She raked her nails across his back and lifted her thighs back to open herself even more.
“Bitch!” Tom whispered as he felt her nails and then kissed her fierce and hard before reaching down and grabbing one of her legs, then without slipping out of her, he levered himself up and caught her other leg, then placed both against his shoulders. She cried out as his penetration suddenly went even deeper and harder and this time he slammed against her cervix, it was painful but not in a way that made her want to stop. He grinned down at her and began to thrust and withdraw again. Sophie flung her arms out wide, as if surrendering her body to him and locked eyes with him as he fucked her. The rhythm got faster and harder. Their cries became more and more highly pitched and then Sophie reached between her legs and ground her thumb on her clitoris just as Tom flung his head back and began to come. Frantically their bodies slammed together as they both climaxed, there was no rhythm now, just the shocks and aftershocks of the explosive pleasure. Then Tom collapsed forwards onto her and they lay together, sweating and happy in the afterglow.
A week later Gray gave them the arrangements for the false passports. The student movement against the government was organised into small groups with no one knowing anyone outside their own group. Only one person in each group knew enough to contact one person in another group – but only one. That way no one could betray enough people to seriously damage the movement as a whole. Gray was their group’s liaison member.
Late one evening they went to a ramshackle tower block, having met Gray at the Tube station after making sure they weren’t being tailed. Sophie found herself thinking how ironic it was that she was walking on streets in the dark that she never would have dreamt of going near a year or two ago. She had two large young men with her of course, but even if they hadn’t been there, she would not have been unduly worried. Despite her hatred of slavery and Mostyn, the streets were undeniably safer than they had been. They climbed up six flights of concrete stairs that reeked of urine and finally got to a flat with an armoured front door, which was eventually answered by a pale faced young man with lank hair and a beanie hat on. He was introduced as Jed to them by Gray but he made no attempt to greet them, just held his hand out for their passports.
“He’ll copy the biometrics and the photo onto an old one he’s got a file of and then manufacture a whole new booklet from the file he creates on a 3D printer. It’s totally undetectable,” Gray told them as they watched Jed scan in their details and then perform his alchemy which concluded with the 3D printer making the booklet; cover, printed pages, photos, and all in front of their eyes, jerking in plastic and light metal for the chip, paper and card from the trays and rolls as it needed them. Although 3D printing had been around for some years, Sophie still found it an extraordinary thing to watch. When he was finished, Sophie had a passport in the name of Angela Stafford and Tom could now be Robert Alton – if needed. They took the documents, handed over a large amount of money and left. Gray accompanied them to meet Matt and Tilly and then return. He didn’t seem too concerned that when he made the journey for the third time with Chas and Eve, even the most casual surveillance might well pick him up. Sophie thought he was being very brave and gave him a hug when they left him at the station.
Closing the estate gate on the outside world came as a welcome relief when they got home. Sophie couldn’t help feeling that everyone was looking at her and that they knew she was holding a forged passport as well as a real one – which itself was not in her birth name. She felt like a criminal and wasn’t any good at shaking the feeling off. Even the sight of a ponygirl being taken for an evening trot by a man and his wife, couldn’t dampen the sense of relief she felt and the rise in her spirits as they approached her house.
They were within a few yards of the front door when the door of a parked car opened and a tall man stepped onto the pavement in front of them. He was in his mid-forties, Sophie guessed and was tanned and athletic looking, he was dressed simply in chinos and a sweatshirt.
“Miss Suarez, may I have a word with you?” he said quietly.
Sophie’s stomach lurched. He was the police, he had to be! How else would he know that name? She whirled around to see if there was any escape. Another man got out of the other side of the car, and then two more from another car behind the first. They moved towards her quickly then, and suddenly from outside the estate came the wail of sirens and the flicker of blue lights was reflected from the houses of the streets just outside the gates.
“Run!” Tom yelled but Sophie had already turned and was pounding away, ahead of him, back the way they had come to get away before they could cut her escape off.
“Stop!” the men yelled after them and Sophie heard the sounds of their feet on the tarmac as they ran after Tom. She knew there was a footpath that led to playing fields between the backs of the houses just a few yards on and she dived into the darkness, going hard to her left and slamming her right shoulder against the fence on the right as she made the sharp turn, then she was running on grass, her eyes desperately seeking a way forwards under the overhanging tree branches. Behind her Tom swore as he fell, tripping over something in the dark. She stopped for him, she knew the ground better than he did. She ducked as the lights of a police car swept past the entrance to the path. A silhouette of a man was briefly outlined against the glare, it was the man from the car. The police had overrides for all estate gates and so had just driven straight in. A second police car swept in and both stopped outside her house. She knelt down and groped for Tom, putting a hand across his mouth when she found him. At the entrance to the path, the four men who had hailed them had now all gathered but seemed oddly unsure. They conferred hurriedly, looking back to where the police cars were and then looking along the path towards them. The tall man who had first accosted them seemed frustrated which was odd as his mates had just turned up. But he slammed his fist against a fence panel and then marched back to his car, followed by the other men and soon Sophie saw the lights come on and watched the cars sweep by, leaving the estate. They exchanged puzzled looks as the lights then came on in Sophie’s house and sounds of a rough search could be heard. Sophie winced at the sound of breaking crockery and glass.
“Let’s go,” Tom whispered and they crept away into the dark.
“The bloody fuzz turned up just as I’d got to them!” Brian Holden said as he handled the car with unnecessary roughness back out onto the North London streets. “They did a runner and if we’d followed them the fuzz might have followed us too, so we thought it best to let them try and get away! Then if they make it we can at least try again.”
On the other end of the line Peter Lang was silent for a moment. “Damn!” he said at last. “If they get away we’ll have hell’s own job to find them again. But at least Mostyn won’t get her. If he did he’d put her on the open market, and on the open market she’d fetch more than even The Lodge and CSL can afford!”
“But how many others know who they’re looking for? That’s what we don’t know!” Brian retorted.
Lang sighed again. “We’ll just have to keep looking and hoping. Blondie’s daughter belongs with us! She just doesn’t know it yet. We’ve got to keep on believing we can get her back where she belongs.”
Peter Lang sat back in his chair and let his breath out slowly, draining away the tensions of the day. In the two months since the Proteus stable had gone public with the revelation that Ace, the biggest attraction in their stable, was a daughter of the legendary Blondie by means of IVF when she had been owned by Conor Brien in the early days of the arenas, the search had been on for the other daughter. When Carlo Suarez had retired Blondie from the arenas they were not yet legitimate and it had been easy for them to disappear. He and Blondie had lived quietly, shunning publicity and
fading into the shadows as the arenas slowly became respectable. But when their plane had gone missing the publicity began to mount and the Proteus stable had played their trump card. Anna Chatham aka Ace, a tall athletic girl who had carved a meteoric trail across the arena skies was the daughter of Conor Brien and Blondie and they could prove it – and they had, the Conor Brien estate had been very helpful, after all it was good publicity for the Blue stable – and all hell had been let loose. It was known that Blondie had given birth after she retired from the arenas, to another daughter in Spain, but no one could trace her. No one, that is, until a minor civil servant had contacted him and for a huge fee had revealed that the girl had changed her name by deed poll. Peter had been under no illusions that the man would sell his information to all the other gladiator stables but at least he had got a head start. But now the girl was well and truly spooked and would run. But where would she run to?
“Gray set us up!” Tom panted. “It must’ve been him! All the fuzz had to do was raid Jed’s flat and get all our IDs then bring us in! I reckon he got caught at that last demo and tried to trade us in for a let off! I bet he’s dragged in a load of other groups too, He was the liaison after all. He could have formed a chain of groups all using Jed and turned the lot in. The bastard!”
Tom tried to keep his voice under control as they huddled together in a late night Tube carriage heading for St Pancras and the Eurostar, it was the fastest way out of the country. Their only hope was that Jed hadn’t kept files of the new passports and their new names, the police would get them off the machine of course, even if he hadn’t, but it might take just enough time to give them a window of opportunity. Sophie had had a hunch that the airports were too obvious and too dangerous, but travelling as foot passengers on a train might just get them away under the radar.
“But who were those other men then? I thought they were the filth but they didn’t act like them and they legged it almost as fast as we did!” Sophie asked.
“Christ knows! And why did they call you by that other name?” Tom replied.
Sophie went quiet. She had never told him about her parents and he had accepted her hatred of the arenas as part of her political stance.
“Don’t know,” she managed and was grateful when they could get off and head for the Eurostar. She had had a very uncomfortable thought; apart from the police, the only other people who might know of her birth name were the arena owners. And they were the ones who had abducted her mother and enslaved her. And they had employed her father as one of their slave trainers.
Chapter Two.
Newcastle-upon-Tyne 2035
It was going to be a big three days. The Proteus stable had come north to take on the Tykes in a show that would bring the region to a standstill. It would also ensure that Greville Lloyd MP – a staunch supporter of Clive Mostyn - would be re-elected in the forthcoming bye-election as the party was generously sponsoring the games. In addition it was being rumoured that everyone who signed a postal vote for Lloyd at the games could get 50% off the cost of any slavegirl they chose to play with for any one night during the games.
There was going to be a Demolition Derby after the finale, the corporate hospitality suites were sold out, the arena, the circus and the pony racing circuit were all sold out too. No one wanted to miss seeing Ace, not now that she was officially recognised as the daughter of none other than Blondie herself. There had been some muttering when it was revealed that she was not available for hire in the dungeons during the evenings, but was instead being reserved for corporate entertainment, but the 50% reduction in the charges, as part of an entirely unofficial offer of course, had gone a long way to soothe ruffled feathers.
In the Morris household on the Saturday morning on which the games were about to start, Mrs Ann Morris unlocked the cage door and let the slave out.
“Get the tea and bring it up, slut,” she said before yawning and going back up to the bedroom. The girl would obey of course, she knew that they would play with her once she brought the tea up and the chip saw to it that she couldn’t – just couldn’t – do anything other than everything she could to get another orgasm. It was a beautiful arrangement. Ann had had her doubts at first and hadn’t been at all sure about having the girl in the house. But it wasn’t like having another person at all, as it turned out. The slut was just a toy, a delicious sensual toy, which could be picked up and put down again at will, and Ann and George’s sex life had improved beyond all recognition.
She and George had not had much sex for several years. He had been working hard to build up the business and she hadn’t really fancied it much in any case, certainly not enough to pester him for it. And then suddenly, when, as he put it, their pockets were nicely lined, he had suggested they buy a slave. Ann had been shocked and was forced to recognise that although she had kept herself reasonably trim and fit she would in no way measure up to a nineteen or a twenty-year old and had said as much.
“Ok, then I’ll go and start playing around shall I? I’ll start going to clubs and staying out all night. I’ve worked bloody hard, Ann, and I want to enjoy life again,” he had said. “And think of it this way, if we get a slavegirl you’ll at least know where I am and who I’m shagging – and that’s the worst that can happen.”
“And what’s the best?” she had wanted to know.
He came and sat close beside her. “I’ve been speaking to a few guys who’ve bought them and they say that it works wonders for a marriage.”
“How?”
“Well, you know what they say, it takes a woman to really please another woman.”
“Do they?” Ann hadn’t been in a mood to be helpful.
“Yes, they do!” George had replied sharply. “And I’ve always wanted to watch you with another woman.”
“You have?” Ann was taken aback. “In what way?”
“I’d like to see a woman go down on you. And I bet you’d get a kick out of seeing me fuck another woman!”
Ann had gaped at him. She had never even remotely considered any such thing – but now he came to mention it…
Things had gone on from there. Ann had found herself trawling through websites she had never given any thought to at all and in a few weeks had come to think that having another woman go down on her might not be so bad – it was something George had never been keen on or very good at, after all. And as for seeing him shagging another woman… well as long as the woman concerned was a slut whose life she could make a living hell if she stepped out of line... And George said these chip things made them completely docile anyway so they could do what they liked with her. He had begun to show her some BDSM websites and Ann’s eyes had been properly opened for the first time in her life.
They had started to watch the games from around the world and Ann, who had previously been as scandalised as she thought she ought to be by the arenas, found she thoroughly enjoyed watching the slavegirls. They began to have sex again.
Eventually they had taken the plunge and had entered their details on a government website and within three days had been alerted to an auction being held a few miles away the following day. Mostyn’s Law moved fast so you had to be ready to go and ready to pay when you registered an interest in buying a girl. They had attended but hadn’t seen anything that had set their pulses racing. However the very fact that they had sat and examined naked girls and watched others bidding for them had turned them both on so much that they had stopped the car on the way home and had sex at an intensity they hadn’t achieved for years. Afterwards Ann had slid down the tree she had been fucked up against and sat, splay-legged on the ground with a big grin on her face.
“If that’s how good it is just from thinking about owning one – we have just got to get ourselves one!” she said.
Lot Sixteen a week later had appealed to them. She was a bit on the thin side but they had learned that that was pretty standard and they could be fattened up quickly enough. She had big green eyes and dark hair. Her breasts were average sized
and with large, dark nipples, but as George said, they could afford to have the breasts augmented and the nipples were perfect for piercing. Her legs were a good length and looked reasonably sturdy and her bottom jutted out pleasingly, saving on the need for any adjustment there. She was perfect. Ann couldn’t wait to see those lovely big eyes brimming with tears. They got her at a price that was several thousand pounds within budget and determined that she would be breast augmented as soon as possible. George had told his office he wouldn’t be in for a week and they had set about learning how to get the best from the slut. Her documentation said she was from Manchester but gave no name so they simply called her ‘slut’. Her big eyes never showed any sign of any reaction to the name and it stuck.
The girl was serving a five year sentence, but for a small fee that could be extended or doubled more or less indefinitely. And as long as she was still in reasonable condition, if they did want to hand her back to the authorities, then a small but useful amount was returned to them to put against their next purchase. That ensured the slave stock was kept in good condition and the government could choose whether or not to release the girl or sell her on at a profit once more, depending on her age, attractiveness, talents etc..