by Sean O'Kane
There was another reason too; when their money began to run out, she could call her parents’ lawyers in Geneva and access plenty more through other sources. But that would inevitably arouse Tom’s curiosity and she didn’t want to answer too many questions just now. She felt confused and frightened and needed time to herself. She didn’t want Tom taking risks but she suspected that even if she did protest, his mind was pretty well made up. There was another deeper and darker reason for her wanting to split up – a nasty thought had been gnawing at her over the past thirty-six hours and it ran like this; if the man who had accosted her outside her house was from an arena, perhaps the police raid on her house wasn’t just the result of her politics? Suppose someone in government had also found out who she really was? And if that was true then Clive Mostyn himself must know who she was. And if that was the case, the further Tom got away from her, the better for him!
“Well I was going to suggest we split up anyway. I think we’d stand a better chance that way. But do be careful! I just need some time and I’ll come back when things have quietened down.” She put her hand over his and he smiled at her.
“Good! And I will be careful,” he said.
There was a sudden roar from further back in the long, narrow room and they turned to see what had caused it. All the men sitting on stools at the bar and the couples gathered round tables had seen that the TV was showing footage of the Demolition Derby that had been held a few days previously at the Tykes’ arena on Tyneside.
The Derbies had grown from the old American sport of Roller Derby but the arenas had given it their own inimitable spin as well as providing bigger and faster tracks. Each arena fielded two teams on roller skates; one for offence and one for defence, ten girls in each team. The team playing offence had to get its receiver through the defence – usually by whipping, which meant her team mates holding a girl’s arms and physically hurling her forward on her skates. And as both teams skated fast in any case, the results were high-speed collisions and action as the team on the offense fought to get a few girls through to the front of the fast-moving melee. Once the receiver was in position then the pass maker would attempt to throw an oval ball to her and the defence would use any trick to stop her. After fifteen laps a siren would sound and the number of completed passes by the offence were put on the score board, then the teams would change and the previous defenders now became attackers and tried to exceed the number of passes completed in the last ‘jam’. Five sets were usually played in a match – a set consisting of two jams. The ferocity of the wrestling between the girls as they hurtled round the banked wooden track, dressed only in short kilt-type skirts and with no other protection apart from forearm guards, was the main source of the entertainment. The Demolition element came from the fact that neither team was allowed to substitute a player even if she had to retire, so the later jams in a match could be played out between reduced teams and each team did its level best to ensure that it was the opposition who was severely reduced.
The café had a wall screen TV so even though men and women were standing and cheering on the teams, Tom and Sophie could see the giant figures quite clearly. In disapproving silence, but unable to ignore the thunderous volume and huge figures, Sophie watched as a tall girl with light brown hair tied back in a pony tail, was whipped forwards at breakneck speed on one of the straights. She squatted down low and managed to squeeze between two opponents who had linked arms to stop her. She burst upwards and broke their grip then swung her own arms backwards, hard, as she surged past them. The camera caught the moment the two defenders’ breasts were flattened by the flailing arms. The girls spun away on their skates and were caught again by the tall girl’s team coming up behind them. One was simply barged backwards off her feet and slid helplessly down onto the in-field, from where she had to try and rejoin the action, the other took a knee to the groin, as she spread her thighs for balance. She spun away from that and was hoisted high over the outer railings by a third girl.
The crowd in the café was ecstatic as the action was replayed in slo-mo. When the programme picked up the action again, the tall brunette had got to the front and the chubby blonde pass maker, guarded by a group of four team mates, skilfully gathered a ball thrown from the in-field, took aim without missing a beat and torpedoed it down the straight. The tall brunette leaped high, her long limbs gleaming in the flood lights, two others leapt with her and clawed desperately at her breasts and tried to pin her legs together but they couldn’t stop her making the catch, although she came down heavily onto the wooden track and all three rolled and fought, punching breasts and groping for cunt holds until marshals from the in-field pulled them apart and set the field for the second jam of the set, that lap having been the last of the fifteen laps . The camera briefly followed the tall catcher as she limped off and sat down to regain her breath while her team’s defence squad took to the track.
For some reason that Sophie couldn’t figure out, the cameras seemed to linger on the tall girl, panning lovingly down her body so that they could all see the scratches on the big breasts and inner thighs as she sat with carelessly opened legs, towelling herself down and setting her breasts to swinging and rippling. The blonde pass maker came across and lovingly kissed the upper slopes of her breasts. But then both girls jerked and gasped as a handler swiped them with a riding whip across their backs to settle them down.
Sophie snorted in disgust as Tom returned with a couple more glasses of wine.
“Poor cows,” she said, as the action got underway again and the crowd cheered. “I wonder where they are now and what’s happening to them?”
Ace and Tracey were woken by the door being opened by the head groom, even at the end of the day looking crisp and neat in a white blouse and jodhpurs. She urged them out of bed and waited while they stretched and finally assumed the open-legged, hands behind back stance of ‘stand easy’. Then she buckled cuffs on them and pinned their hands, opened their mouths and fastened their tongue rings to their leashes, turned and led them out, side by side. Ace managed to glance sideways enough to catch Tracey’s eye as they were led across the now deserted training ground and towards the main house once more. For a moment her heart raced with fright, she didn’t want to go back to those people who talked at her, but then she realised it wasn’t her trainer who was leading her, it was the head groom and she was frequently detailed off to deliver slaves to this or that dungeon for paying guests. And, to her relief, once they entered the main hall, they were led downstairs and into the extensive cellars that had been converted into luxuriously equipped dungeons in which a slave girl could be tormented in almost endless ways.
Ace loved them and she felt Tracey’s hip suddenly rub against hers. This looked promising to both girls.
They were taken to dungeon IV – Ace just having time to notice the number before they were inside and the door was closed with a thrillingly heavy slam. Scott Holroyd stood before them. He had already taken off his shirt and his broad, muscular torso sent shivers of excitement running through Ace, just like the tails of the flogger he held were running through his fingers. It was one she was well acquainted with, its many tails were of hard leather, cut square. It hurt almost more than a single tail and left marks that sometimes took days to fade.
Ace felt her belly heat and begin to melt. For whatever reason it looked as though this was going to be a night to remember. The head groom unfastened their leashes and then went to stand by Scott Holroyd and slowly unbuttoned her crisp white shirt, shrugged it off and then unclipped her immaculate, pale pink bra, releasing her neat, rosy-tipped breasts that trembled and shook cheekily as she folded the garments and stacked them tidily on top of the cane rack.
“Mount the tubby one over there. Bring Ace over here,” the trainer ordered.
Her trainer took charge of her and quickly fastened her into a frame in full extension – her wrists and ankles fastened to the corners, then he made her open her mouth and buckled a ball gag onto her. He stayed with
her long enough to stroke her breasts and make sure her nipples were erect and then he felt between her wide spread thighs and grinned knowingly at her as his fingers encountered the warmth and moisture in her vagina, then he left her.
Ace’s eyes followed him across the room to where Tracey was now mounted and ready for the first action of the night. She stood with her legs braced apart and her wrists raised and clipped to the ends of a spreader bar that hung from the ceiling above her. Her large, pale-skinned breasts stood out proud and vulnerable from her chest as the trainer took up his position in front of her. Tracey’s eyes were fixed on the tails of the flogger, but she managed one glance across to Ace, her eyes wide above the ball gag before they started and Ace knew what she was going through, fear and excitement and anticipation of the devastating orgasms that lay on the other sides of the delicious pain that was about to scald her. And behind the quivering girl, Ace could see the head groom raising a riding crop in readiness. Then the trainer struck first.
He swung the heavy-tailed flogger straight across the crowns of Tracey’s breasts, the tails fanning out as they struck. She hardly had time to flinch back before the riding crop smacked across her shoulders from behind. A gag muffled groan escaped her as she arched away from that pain and thrust her quivering tits straight at the trainer’s flogger which struck exactly where it had before. This time Tracey let out a low growl as she tried to twist and the crop cut across her bottom this time. With her ankles shackled, Tracey could do no more than she had before, which was to arch her back. Their trainer was ready for it and this time moved slightly so he could lash her forehand and backhand in quick succession. The lush mounds of breastflesh swung ponderously across Tracey’s chest and then lurched as she reacted to the swipe of the crop across her shoulders again.
Ace watched in agonised envy as Tracey’s eyes began to roll upwards and still the two dominants worked on her, she was sinking into subspace under the relentless thud and snap of the lashes and by the quivering in her thighs, Ace could see she would be coming soon. But they were far too experienced to allow that to happen just yet. They stopped as Tracey was beginning to pant around her gag and cry out in time to the lashes she was taking. In the wake of the beating stopping, her head lolled down between her upraised arms and Ace thought she looked wonderfully erotic as the red marks slowly bloomed across her heaving breasts.
Their trainer went to a table and picked up some wrapped needles, came back stripping their paper off and with no pre-amble at all, took Tracey’s right nipple and half pierced it with one strong thrust. He took hold of the deep red, thick tube poking rigidly out from the tawny areola, thrusting eagerly forward for its next dose of treatment and pushed the needle into it. Tracey yelled through her gag but made no move to raise her head or look away as her trainer paused and then pushed again. Ace knew that Tracey would be watching as her tender flesh peaked at the far side of the nipple as the sharp steel pressed against it, then burst through. And sure enough Tracey gave a sigh as she saw herself pierced. She watched closely as her other nipple was pierced, then her trainer picked up a smaller flogger. Although it was smaller its tails were even more rigid and square than the first. The very first lash – downwards onto her left breast, fetched a shrill yell from behind the gag and then the head groom stepped in with the crop again and this time Tracey was allowed to go all the way. The lashes kept falling until she was twitching in the aftermath of an explosive climax that had made her spurt her juice onto the floor below.
Ace was desperately trying to close her wide spread thighs, anything to try and assuage the aching void in her belly. Her whole body was awash with the need for an orgasm and her trainer and head groom were well aware of it. She watched from beneath carefully lowered eye lashes as he approached and began to manipulate and tease her breasts again, stroking gently, flicking the nipples lightly. She was crying out for domination and pain, not tenderness, and groaned from behind the gag.
“You’re a whore, Ace. A whoreslave. A machine for giving pleasure. If I told you I’d enjoy it, you’d stick needles in yer own tits, wouldn’t you?”
Ace knew she wasn’t really being spoken to. Mister Holroyd was just thinking aloud, so she simply moaned her agreement incoherently but unmistakably. He laughed and stepped back. From nowhere the crop landed across her shoulders. She jerked forward against her bonds as the bruising blow from the shaft of the whip slammed across her and the sting from the leather keeper at the end added its venom. Calmly her trainer twisted her left nipple savagely as a second slash from the crop sliced into her buttocks. She yelled into her gag as pain blazed across her rump, but then Mr Holroyd’s other hand went between her legs and Ace used her stomach muscles to thrust her hips forwards to meet him as he sank his fingers straight into her vagina and his thumb began to grind at her clitoris. The crop slashed again and she tried to buck even harder, racing upwards now towards a towering orgasm, she even dared look at him as he worked her.
“That’s the way a slave talks isn’t it, girl? What do the bosses know? A slave talks with her cunt ‘cos she’s a whore!” His thumb pounded her clitoris as his fingers fucked her and the crop lashed her back, although she hardly noticed it now as she rode the wave of sensual overload that blinded her and cramped her belly, made her tremble in every limb and finally collapse to hang limply by her wrists.
When she gathered her scattered wits again it was the sound of bodies slapping together that made her focus. The regular slapping noise was accompanied by throaty female gurgles and male grunts of effort. Both dominants had stripped naked and the head groom had been bent forwards over a whipping bench directly in front of Ace and Mr Holroyd was energetically fucking her from behind. He was approaching his climax and as Ace blinked her way back to alertness he roared his release and she gave a long nasal groan to signal her own peak. From behind the naked pair the two slaves looked at each other in apprehension. Was there going to be enough sex to go around?
“Right, lass. You take it from here for a while,” their trainer said, standing back from the groom and going to wipe his cock on Tracey’s bottom. Then he settled down on a bench over by a wall and gave the floor to his partner while he recovered. And to the slaves’ delight, the woman sashayed over to a rack of dildos and took down a monstrous strap-on. She straddled her legs and buckled on the straps, then with the pink plastic shaft wagging cheekily in front of her she went to Tracey and took her down. Then, crooking her little finger through Tracey’s tongue ring she led her over to a wall and stood her against it. She caressed her breasts and pierced nipples long enough to make Tracey sigh and begin to fidget and then she raised the girl’s arms and shackled her wrists to chains hanging from rings anchored in the masonry. Although the groom was no taller and was more slightly built than Tracey, Ace knew her domination was complete and it was a turn-on for her watch how carelessly and confidently the smaller of the naked women manipulated the bigger. Once Tracey was mounted face against the wall she immediately curved her back and shoulders away from it to save her nipples from being pressed. Ace admired the livid flares the crop had left across the sturdy shoulders, but as the head groom picked up a long single tail whose lash flattened into an inch wide blade, two thirds of the way along its length, she realised that that had just been a warm up.
And as the realisation of what was probably coming hit Ace, she felt her vagina flutter and a warm flood seeped down into her belly. Tracey had to take the full force of the lash across her proffered back as she was reluctant to push her chest against the stone and this meant the groom had a steadily held canvas to paint on. Ace melted with desire as she watched how steadily the groom worked the lash up and down Tracey’s back, the blade leaving broad red swathes across the pale skin and eclipsing the crop marks. Tracey’s moans and cries became steadily louder as the swish and smack rhythm carried on relentlessly. It only stopped when the slave was on the very cusp of orgasm and then the groom stepped behind her and grabbed her hips. Immediately Tracey shuffled her fee
t back and hollowed her back, allowing the groom to drive the dildo deep into her cunt. Just a few short, rough jabs brought them both to climax and Ace herself nearly joined in but her view was obscured by Holroyd’s looming form in front of her. He took her down, unbuckled her gag and slung her over his shoulder as he made his way across the dungeon to a leather-topped bench where he laid her down on her back, shackled her wrists down by her sides to bars that ran along the length of the bench, raised her legs and placed her calves and ankles in stirrups, then strapped them in and swung the stirrups further apart. Ace found that she could slide the wrist cuffs along the steel bars they were clipped to and was able to prop herself up on her elbows to see what was being prepared for her. Between her spread thighs she saw her trainer positioning a spreader bar hung from two chains. Below it were two heavy duty steel clamps, also hanging from chains attached to the spreader.
Ace swallowed as another surge of lust swept over her. She always loved the presence of heavy steel close to the most delicate and feminine parts of a slavegirl and it had been ages since she had had a good slow dungeon session. Recently it had been heavy floggings, which were all well and good but a girl needed some considered attention from to time. Holroyd tugged on the chains and positioned the clamps just above her labia, then looked up and smiled at her as he rummaged in a drawer built into the end of the bench.
“By the time I’ve finished with you, whore, you won’t remember a thing about this morning! All you’ll remember is what’s done to you here!” And he tossed a handful of wrapped, sterilised needles onto her stomach.
Ace grinned happily at him. Ace didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. What had happened earlier that day? Ace had forgotten. All she knew was that Tracey and she had been allowed sex and now they were in for a good long session. What more did she need to know? But her trainer seemed happy, so she stuck her ringed tongue out to indicate her agreement and submission.