Blonde Fury (10 page)

Tracey slithered her way up Ace’s body, both of them now slicked by post-orgasmic sweat and the two grinned at each other before settling as best they could on the narrow bed. An arena slave soon developed almost cat-like abilities of relaxation when she wasn’t nee
ded and soon they were drowsing,
relaxing
until the chips kicked in again.

It just seemed natural for two fugitives to gravitate towards the Left Bank in Paris.
Sophie and Tom found a small but clean hotel and paid with cash for a room for a couple of days while they tried to think ahead. They had emptied their accounts of cash at an ATM outside a hub station on the Tube
back in London
, hoping to leave no clue as to their direction of travel.
Now t
hey had a small window of opportunity to try and regroup.

They wandered the crowded streets, their senses assailed by the sm
e
lls of cooking drifting from countless small cafes and bars. The people they brushed against and jostled were from widely different racial backgrounds and in all the hustle and lights and traffic, no one gave them a second glance.

It was the evening of their first full day in Paris and Tom had guided them into a bar for a drink after they had had a frugal supper
of baguettes,
salami and chorizo in their room at the hotel
. They sat hunched over their drinks, trying to keep their faces in shadow.

“
It’s no good, I just can’t walk away!
I’m going back,
Sophie,
” Tom said at last. “I’ll get a flight to Cork and take a ferry back to Wales. Hopefully they won’t be looking for me coming in that way if they still think we’re on the run over here.
”

Sophie felt she ought to try and talk him out of it, but the truth was that she had been thinking they ought to split up in any case. Firstly, the minute they left the raffish and shady
, melting pot
area
of
the left bank
, they would stand out a mile;
she virtually six foot in
stockinged feet
with a
full blonde mane of hair
; he even taller and broad shouldered.

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 s
p
lit up
– a nasty thought had been gnawing at her over
the past thirty-six hours and it
ran like this; if the ma
n 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 collision
s
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 matc
h – 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 on
to
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
. S
he 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, t
he 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 other
s
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 grop
ing for cunt holds until marsha
ls 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 t
hat dungeon for paying guests. And, t
o 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 quick
ly 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 t
he 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.