by Sean O'Kane
From between her tightly raised arms, Sophie glanced back over her shoulder, all thoughts of sexual excitement gone as she realised she was going to be punished like all those poor girls in the arenas. Ennis stood behind her with a coiled whip in his hands.
“Thirty’s pretty usual round here. Most girls get that every day or so. And they’re the good ones, the disobedient ones…well you don’t want to go there!”
The first lash convinced her beyond any doubt that he was right. She didn’t want to be disobedient. The line of fire it traced across her middle back and which set her spinning at the end of her rope quelled all thoughts of rebellion or dignity and his calm count filled her mind with the terrible thought that were twenty-nine more like that to come. And as the hateful lash snaked and burned its way across her back and bottom and thighs until she just had to twist around and take some on her stomach and even on her breasts, she cried out loud while silently inside she was yelling at herself to forget any thoughts of principles or morality. Just concentrate on avoiding the lash, she screamed inwardly.
When at last it was over and she hung, taking in shivering gasps of air and feeling the fires go on growing in her flesh for a few moments before they began to subside, Ennis made her look at him.
“You been fucked and whipped. When I put your collar and harness on in a couple of days’ time, you’ll have the full set of what it means to be one of Mr Floyd’s ponies. Then we start your training.”
Nursing her hurts from inside and out and exhausted beyond anything she had ever experienced, Sophie staggered back to her cell aware of the thin but livid red lines across her quivering breasts as she moved. She slept for a very long time despite the pains and after they fed her the following day she was measured for her tack. Every aspect of her body was subjected to measurement and not one remark made by either of the men who did it was addressed to her. Even the comments about how neat and tidy her inner labia were as they measured her inside leg and the distance between her anus and her clitoris were not meant for her.
She was learning.
Chapter Seven.
The man’s slow, measured breathing as he slept beside her lulled Martha as she wrestled with recent events. She hadn’t meant this to happen! Her intention had been to win Sophie some time either to get away or to sort herself out. She hadn’t told him she lived with the girl he was looking for. Instead she had simply told him that she had seen the girl about the place and tried to pump him for more information about himself.
But somehow he had ended up fucking her in the bed she shared with Sophie. How had that happened? Of course he still didn’t know that. The discarded clothes Sophie had left behind she had just told him were hers. She had managed to hide the note before he saw it and the torn dress she had been wearing. But what now?
He had told her incredible things – starting with openly admitting that he worked for a slave training stable and part owned it.
“Do you like whipping women?” The question had burst from her lips the moment he had told her.
He had just looked at her for a second and then said; “Yes.”
For some reason she had thought of that time in the kitchen with the remote control in her hand and Sophie coming helplessly, gasping and crying and wriggling on the floor, gorgeous legs wide open, breasts shaking and it had felt so good to have the power to make her go on having orgasms until she, Martha, made the decision to call a halt. It was Sophie’s body but it had been her decision.
And then he had told her about Sophie – who she really was and who was looking for her. He had said he was taking a huge risk confiding in her but by that time she had been attracted by the man’s power and was falling under his spell. He exuded a calm confidence with women and spoke about them so knowingly that she must have made the decision to bed him quite early on in the evening, she realised. The arenas had wrecked her marriage, but that had turned out quite well as it happened so she couldn’t hate him because of that, but fucking him was maybe some sort of revenge. They fucked her up, she fucked one of them. But what about Sophie?
Even Martha had heard of Blondie. And to think she had been shagging her daughter! No wonder the girl had such a glorious body! But if she plainly didn’t want to be known as such, how could her friend and lover help those who were hunting her down?
Martha’s thoughts whirled on. She glanced over at the man sleeping beside her. He spent his working life bending girls and women to his will and disciplining them, whipping them – she forced the word into her mind and liked the sound of it. Sophie and slaves became mixed up in Martha’s mind and now she could see Sophie coming helplessly under the remotely controlled bullet, but this time it was in a dungeon and she was tied and helpless and Martha loved how she looked. And now Sophie’s beautiful body writhed under her own body, as it had so often, but this time Martha was digging her nails into Sophie’s back and she was arching up and crying out and begging for more and Martha smiled as she ran her nails down her back and sank them into the lovely softness of Sophie’s buttocks…
She stopped the careering train of thought as she remembered that Brian had invited her to come and see his stable. He had even said she could whip the slaves if she wanted to. Why had he said that, she wondered. And why had a jolt of excitement left her breathless as she heard the casual invitation? The man had the power to do what he liked with all those women – even casually condemn them to pain at the hands of a new acquaintance. She liked that idea very much. That was power! And just maybe Sophie would be better off if she was controlled. And maybe Brian was an extremely shrewd judge of women.
Martha bit her lip nervously. What had Sophie ever said that might give anybody a hint as to where she had gone? Brian would expect her to help if she went to The Lodge and the CSL stable with him. Imagine a whole stable full of girls like Sophie and every one of them available for her to play with! But what could she tell him?
There was a lawyer in Switzerland and her parents had been rich enough to own property all over the world. But on one occasion she had mentioned that if things in Paris went flat as far as money was concerned, they should go to Texas, where she could get a job with one of her parents’ companies.
Beside her, Brian turned over in his sleep and Martha felt his thighs press against hers briefly. He had been a terrific lay! He hadn’t done anything kinky, hadn’t spanked her or anything and hadn’t expected her to do anal. Now why had she thought of that all of a sudden? She hadn’t had anal since her husband had left. But Brian’s cock was big and it would fill that particular passage very satisfactorily and her vagina had had its fair share already. Telling him about Texas wouldn’t mean they would find Sophie. And even if they did, maybe she was meant to be in the arenas and would enjoy it really. Or if she was so valuable they might let her go after a year or two. Or…to hell with it! Exasperated, Martha banished all thought and rolled over and kissed Brian’s broad back, smiling as she listened to him slowly come awake.
She propped herself up over him. “How do you fancy going in by the back door this time?” she asked him.
He smiled sleepily up at her. “I could manage it,” he told her.
Ace watched her trainer’s legs go past slowly as he walked along the line of hanging slaves. There were two rows of them, ten in each row. From somewhere above them came the sounds of the crowd gathering in the stadium.
They had been flown in two days before, the container they had travelled in had been loaded onto a cargo plane. They had been sat on two benches running down either side of it but the flight had not been as boring as it might have been because their chains had been left with enough slack to allow them to masturbate and to frig the girls on either side. Twenty naked, chipped arena slaves had had nothing else on their minds and their trainer and the guards had only had to look in occasionally to make sure they were keeping busy and to fuck one or other of them or have themselves sucked off.
Now, with the Derby only an hour or so away, their trainer was giving
them a final piece of encouragement. He had had them hung by their ankles with their legs spread wide open. It was a position that any slavegirl knew offered the ultimate in dungeon excitement when she was being played with, but when it was used for punishment, it was the mirror image. It was pure pain and shame. And that was what Holroyd was promising them. He was doing it by the simple expedient of smacking his riding crop down along the length of each helplessly spread vulva whilst explaining to one of the guards what he was going to do if they dared lose this.
“They’ll be hung up like this on the training ground for three days in a row and thrashed.”
“But will the daft sluts understand?” the guard asked.
Ace received her cut with the crop and jerked at the blinding sting that engulfed her genitals. Holroyd bent down and Ace could see his grim and tense expression.
“Oh aye! They’ll get the message alright,” he told his colleague.
He strolled on, his riding crop tapping his leg until he reached the next girl and Ace watched as he laid the crop along the length of the girl’s vulnerable labia, between her stretched thighs, then lifted it away and brought it down hard. The girl yelped and jerked just as she had.
“If they remember what we drilled them in; hitting hard and hitting low. They should have a chance!”
They had been practising relentlessly for this Derby, using other, hapless members of the squad who weren’t part of the Derby teams, running into them as hard as they could as they stood trussed and unable to move out of the way. Then they had gone back to the training roller skate track and gone up against teams of their handlers and guards to get them hardened up. The men hadn’t spared them anything and Ace could well remember the bruises she had come away with from straight arm fend offs and being thrown bodily right over their shoulders.
“The yanks will field their biggest, their fittest and their fastest,” their trainer had told them, so they had to get used to taking much harder knocks than normal.
There was a rattling of chains and the girls were lowered to the floor where they could sit up and wait to be freed.
“They invented Roller Derby, so they won’t want to lose to a bunch of Limeys,” Holroyd told the men and stalked out.
An hour later they trooped out into the harsh floodlights of the stadium and Ace looked around at the towering tiers of seats, all of them packed with spectators waving banners and flags. The noise was deafening as the home team entered from the opposite end of the stadium and both stables were escorted under the banked segments of the track at each end. Glaring at each other, the two teams of slaves took their places on benches at either side of the infield. Under the hard, flat light the girls’ flesh seemed pale but Ace was sure these American girls would be suntanned. And she realised how right her trainer had been, they were big girls; tall and sinewy, their short blue kilts fluttered tantalisingly at the junction of the long, long thighs.
The compere’s voice boomed and rolled around the stadium while Ace and her companions strapped on their skates, their forearm guards and slipped their gum shields in. Beside her Tracey gave her a nervous smile. Some cameras closed in on them as they sat with arms across thighs, legs carelessly open and Tracey, with a mischievous grin, gave them a joggle of her heavy breasts. Immediately the image was relayed on the giant monitor screens and the noise increased even more.
Behind them the two trainers tossed a coin and Holroyd won.
“Right, we’re going on the offensive first off,” he told the guards, shouting over the continual cheering for the Huston Wranglers; the home team, and Ace and her part of the team stood up and skated onto the track. The crowd noise died down as, on the opposite straight, the opposition’s defensive team took up station.
The starting pistol cracked and both teams took off, racing to get up to speed as fast as possible. But once they were moving smoothly, the defence were content to slow down and string themselves out across the track. As they came up to the second bend on the steep banking, Ace bent down and held her arms out. Two team mates grabbed them and accelerated down onto the straight, then swung her forward with all their might. Ace crouched low and aimed for two Wranglers on the outside of the track, they half turned to see her coming and tried to lash out at her instead of holding onto each other’s arms to bar her way. She was able to surge upwards and dig her elbows into their stomachs, then accelerate away as her team mates went low and got crotch holds to throw them over the railings and off the track.
With only eight defenders left, Ace weaved and dodged until she got an opening and went through unopposed. Leaving the others to grapple with them, she spun around and glided backwards, her tiny skirt wrapping itself lovingly around her buttocks and making for a nice image on the monitors that she caught out of the corner of her eye. But back down the track, Tracey had taken delivery of the ball and the minute they were back on a straight she let it fly, straight and true into Ace’s hands.
Meanwhile four of the remaining Wranglers had got together and were beating up two of the Proteus girls on the railings. With one pass safely delivered the rest of the Proteus offensive team went to the rescue and had a scrap that resulted in a couple of split lips and which needed a referee to skate on and break up with his crop wielded across the girls’ thighs.
They made five more passes quite easily before the siren went for the end of the jam and the offensive and defensive teams swapped over. The Wranglers’ offence was much more effective than their defence had been and despite the Proteus team’s best efforts, six passes got through.
Holroyd told Ace and her colleagues to concentrate on taking out as many players as they could in the next jam.
“There’s four more sets to go. Start getting rid of them and we’ll score more on the offence than they can!” he told them, in the heat of the moment actually talking to them.
When Ace and her team skated on, the Wranglers’ defence was back up to strength. But instead of trying to get Ace through to the front, the girls worked in two groups of five and fell onto two pairs as soon as they caught them up. They had the element of surprise and all four were thrown screaming from the track at the highest point of its banking. Ace and Tracey and three of the others managed to trap two more of the Wranglers up against the railings on the straight and they swung their forearms joyfully into soft female flesh as the crowd booed and bayed but loved the huge images of breasts being flattened and rebounding and girls’ thighs pumping and fists swinging. By the time the referee beat them apart, only two of the Wranglers were standing and they were both cut above the eyes. Two of those who had been flung out managed to get back but were groggy and ten passes were completed against a depleted defence.
The Wranglers responded in kind and the Proteus team lost three girls and conceded nine passes. In the third set the defence set out to get Ace. As the Proteus team came up behind them, expecting to go through the usual passing manoeuvres, the whole of the Wrangler defence turned and closed in on Ace and the two girls who had been going to whip her through. Ace’s world suddenly became a whirlwind of fists and knees and forearm guards. Her head was knocked from side to side. Her feet were kicked from under her and she lunged desperately for the railings. A girl who went down in this melee was unlikely to take any further part in the Derby. She just made it as a fist came down on the back of her head, a hand slipped between her thighs and her world spun sickeningly, only stopping when she hit something so hard it knocked the wind from her. Instantly she was rolling around and gasping and whooping for breath, only dimly realising she was on the matting that lay outside the track. Retching and panting she got to her hands and knees, aware that back on the track her team would be running out of circuits to complete passes in. Blindly she staggered forwards and collided with one of the posts holding up the banking but she tottered on and gradually gathered her senses as she passed under the banking, hearing the thunder of skates above her. With her head clearing slowly, she ran clumsily in her skates through the infield and jumped bac
k onto the track in the midst of her remaining team mates. Tracey grabbed her arm and together they accelerated and gathered another of their girls. The three of them joined hands and closed on a trio of Wrangler girls, they went low and took them behind the knees, then stood up as they hit. The girls described perfect backward somersaults and came down heavily on their fronts to lie where they fell. On the screens instant replays of the flying bodies and deliciously squashed breasts lit up the night. But there were only two circuits left and Ace’s left eye was closing rapidly. Tracey sent down two passes but she could only complete on one.
In the infield the stable vet worked hard to cool Ace’s eye and keep the swelling down. She checked her over as well and said there was nothing broken and Ace heard her trainer say that three of the Wranglers’ defenders were out of contention.
Which was just as well. The Wrangler offence put another ten past the Proteus defence.
With her bad eye, Ace dropped two passes in the next jam but with only seven defenders to compete against they managed ten and still took out another girl. Holroyd risked playing an offence girl to make up for a lost defender in the next jam and they kept the score down to five.
But in the final set the Wranglers played the same card and risked everything by making up defence numbers from the offence team – it meant girls had to skate two jams consecutively but it was a ploy that sometimes worked. In this case they came for Ace again. But this time Tracey and the others were ready for it and closed ranks in time. The fight was a rolling mass of kicking screaming girls intent on avoiding their owners’ whips. Hair was pulled, nails raked and the crowd loved it. Ace forgot about passes, all that mattered was getting rid of the opposition. She got one against the railings and began using her forearm guards to batter her breasts until she had to turn away and then she could reach under her and tip her over, loving the feel of the soft labia against her fingers as she did so. But before she could turn and skate on, someone got her left nipple and twisted savagely. She screamed and chopped down to remove the grip but hurt herself even more in doing so. It distracted her for an instant and she felt her hair grabbed and again she was grasped between the legs and thrown in her turn but managed to roll with it this time. It was on a straight so there was not much height to fall from and she was able to vault straight back over the railings and plant her skates firmly on the breasts of a Wrangler girl who was about to finish off Tracey who was bent double and nursing her groin in front of her.