Blonde Fury (6 page)

The slaves
were harnessed two on each side of the chariot’s shaft at the front and one
on each side
behind
at a shorter crossbar
. The front four slaves’ bridles
were linked
by their bits
and the driver held the reins that ran back from the slave on the extreme left and right of the front rank. The two behind them were usually
fairly sturdily built as they pro
vided the main power. The front rank
had to combine speed with fighting ability
. The two men in the chariot had to steer, balance the rig and whip the slaves on – as well as trying to use their whips to trip and confuse their opponents’ slaves.
The speeds that these rigs could reach made for very entertaining collisions and
crashes
and were
popular with the crowds, but the owners and trainers often moaned about the number of slaves who had be confined to the stables’ sick rooms after a games.

As it turned out,
the Canadian team put in a strong performance and were accompanied into the finals by the African team, whose tall, graceful women had a good turn of pace and could fight
for
thei
r ground at the turns. The Girl S
quad’s rig crashed out after only a couple of laps, forced into a fence by the Indonesians. The Tykes’ own rig was taken out by an expertly placed lash from the Proteans’ whipman and the scene of
one of
the
lead
slaves’ legs being taken neatly from under
her
at full speed was played and re-played
in slo-mo
on the screens, much to
Lord Barber
’s disgust. But even he had to admit that the helplessly tumbling, harnessed females skidding through the dust into the sideboarding was
an amusing
sight.

As befitted his rank, when Clive des
cended from the O
wner’s box to make his way to the pony racing circuit, he found that Lord Barber had laid on VIP transport. There was a delightful two-in-hand rig waiting for him. The ponies were from the Tykes’ dressage team and were
typically
petite and elegant. Their breasts were not overly big, but a thin plastic tie
located at the root of each breast and pulled tight, em
phasised their roundness and mad
e them stand out perkily in neat parcels. Each nipple was crowned with a silver cap that Clive knew was fastened on by means of nipple piercing. Unlike the racing ponies, the dressage ponies didn’t suffer the studded cruppers but nonetheless had double penetrations held in place by the
plain leather
crupper, which also had an upwardly curving prong a
t the back from which their tail
s hung at an attractive angle. Their legs – never too long or too thick! – were left bare
and beneath their elegantly sle
nder ankles they wore boots with wedge heels
and which, at the toes,
terminated in
hoof-
like
vamps. And the soles were metal shod with proper horseshoes. As Clive inspected them, they scraped them on the concrete floor of the tunnel
and nodded their heads im
patiently, making the plumes -
in the bronze and
white
of the Tykes – wave and bounce prettily.

Between their elaborately tooled, leather bli
nkers,
their
eyes
shone
bright
from
the
double
penetration
and
masochistic excitement and
their
lips furled over
their
bits. Clive patted their flanks and thanked his host as he climbed aboard the lightweight sulky and settled himself before taking the whip from its holder and preparing to move his team off. Beside him, Lord Barber and
Neil Consadine
;
a member of the consortium that owned
the Proteus stable, also settled down.

“No racing, gentlemen!” Lord Barber requested as he moved off and set the pace. Clive smiled and followed on, whipping his girls up to a gentle, high-knee-lifting trot. Dressage ponies were not raced, they were trained for elegance of movement, smooth obedience to the whip and precise manoeuvres in the paddock. But of course when they weren’t needed in the dressage paddock, they were as available as any other arena slave. Clive found his gaze drifting down to the adorably neat little buttocks, quivering as the ponies trotted. A good ladder of tramlines could only improve them he thought. Too bad he wasn’t spending the night.

The sulkies carried them past the crowds of pedestrians who were also making their way to the pony racing and they were cheered on their way in a friendly and relaxed manner
, although Clive knew his security people were mingling with the onlookers. Some people were not so impressed with his ‘reforms’ and it didn’t do to take chances!

They arrived without mishap and handed the rigs over to the grooms and took their places at the front of the ring to inspect the runners before the start.

There would be four heats and then a final between the winners and the two fastest losers – always provided one stable didn’t win all four, something which had only happened very rarely. The ponies were driven round the perimeter of the ring at a walk to allow the punters to assess the form and
place last minute bets. D
espite the
way the floodlights shone on the
oiled and gleaming, naked female flesh on view, the conversations were almost entirely about previous races, times and practice form. The first race went to the Tykes
, the second to the Proteans, the third was won by the home team again and it was left to the final heat to see if the Proteus stable could even things up. But as they were running Ace in this heat, they were odds on to do just that. Clive leaned on
the rails at the front of the O
wners’ enclosure as the PA announced her entrance and a huge cheer went up. As always, it seemed strange to Clive that no one
, himself included,
had seen the resemblance
before. The girl was taller than most people around her – just as her mother had been – and the way she carried herself
was familiar
; proud and aloof,
tolerating
the crowd’s attention as they reached forward to stroke her flank or touch her thigh as she passed close in front of them, but making no show of being aware of them. He could remember being struck by Blondie having that same ability to be there physically but to be somewhere else mentally.

Beside him Lord Barber sighed and turned to
Neil Consadine
. “You lucky sons of bitches! She’s a real one off!”

Neil
laughed aloud and patted Ace’s shoulder as she was guided past them. “That’s exactly what she’s not, by all accounts! And I’d wager a year’s prize money on the fact that all three of us are looking for her half-sister even as we stand here.” He gave them a roguish grin that Clive was helpless to do anything other than laugh at.

“Okay! But she’ll have to go some to beat Ace!”

And that was the truth, he thought. The tall ex-model’s legs were famed for their endurance
and she was quick
witted and agile too.

When the starting pistol rang out, Ace just seemed to glide over the ground in long graceful strides, she needed hardly any whip, but her driver knew enough to put on a reasonable show of lashing her to her work. By the end of the first lap she was two lengths or more in the lead. She came
flying
down the home straight past the owners with her light brunette hair flying in its ponytail, her gleaming legs flying and her magnificent breasts, steadied by thick straps, but nevertheless bouncing, shining with saliva and oil. But her head was steady and she was obviously well within her capabilities. For the remaining two laps the crowd were treated to an exhibition rather than a race, even though the Tykes
’
pony was a capable performer.
When she was driven back to the paddock she came over to her owner who patted her sweating flanks and made a fuss of her before she was driven away to be rubbed down and got ready for the evening.

Clive drove back to the main arena for the mass log pulling fully intending to use his host’s household slaves to dispel the hard-on that watching Ace had left him with. He suspected he wouldn’t be alone.
Added to that, the mass log pulls were simple whip fests, and as whipping was a pastime he was greatly given to, it was inevitable he would need relief at some point.

The mass log pulls simply consisted of fifty or sixty – the exact number was agreed prior to the games by the owners – slaves harnessed to a telegraph pole. The teams had to haul it the length of the arena, then haul it back. Each length was a single race and in the event of a tie, a third length would be competed over. The guards from each stable used every trick they could to lash the girls on. The only trick that was banned was
t
he use of ginger in their
arses
, which was perfectly legal in the pony
and chariot
racing but mostly used in the finals.
In the log pulls it was down
purely
to how much effort could be whipped out of the slaves.

He took his seat alongside Lord Barber and
Neil
Consadine
and watched the terraces fill up as people returned from the pony racing and settled in for the most gruelling and exciti
ng of the day’s events. In the O
wners’ box the seats were plush and wide and it was quite possible to enjoy the services of the household slaves without having to be bothered to move. There were curtains that could be drawn on eit
her side to afford some privacy, although these were seldom used. Barber himself had beckoned across a brunette, dressed in the
Tykes
’
uniform of a
simple shift dress with a short, flared skirt. The waist line was fashionably low so the bronze coloured skirt was made to look extra-short as it finished four inches above the knee. The comp
è
re announced the log pull and Lord Barber merely gestured downwards as the girl reached him and she immediately knelt and began to undo his flies.

Clive looked at the girls standing at the ends of the rows of seats, now filling up with male and female staffers for the Tykes and Proteus stables. He spotted a pretty enough blonde and waved her over. Whether she had been augmented or whether nature had blessed her, she had a very appealing amount of breastflesh, and the neckline of the dress kept plenty on view. Clive gestured her down to her knees a little to one side of him, so he could reach down and fondle them as he watched the events in the arena.

The logs had been pulled into place by tractors and the chains had been attached. Now, with a recorded fanfare blasting through the PA the two squads were led out.
All of them were naked and gleaming with oil once more, some of them who had been in the arena already were sporting welts but all of them had wrist cuffs on which were clipped together in front of them.

“We’ve got a real treat, ladies and gentlemen!” the comp
è
re told them, “A full sixty girl team on each side!
So it’s going to
be
flagellation heaven! And
our sponsor is sitting in the O
wners’ box right now so you can thank him for what the sluts are about to receive!”

Almost reluctantly, Clive took his hand out of the slave’s bodice where it had been happily mauling and squeezing soft tit flesh. But he stood up and smiled and waved graciously again, then resumed his seat before the applause wound down and
he
resumed his explorations of the girl’s breasts.

Her full lips were slightly parted and she was panting now, the harshness of his grip was driving her onwards and he decided that he would definitely h
ave to ram his cock between them
before the end of the event.

Down below, w
i
th well-rehearsed obedience the slaves
went to
either side of
their
pole
and stood beside the chains which had obviously been allocated to them in practice sessions.
The guards came round and attached each girl’s wrists up at one shoulder to the chain which came off a steel collar gripping the pole
half way along its length
. The men then unshipped the whips the stable had thought the most effective and stood off to one side, each man covering two girls. A senior guard from each stable then climbed onto the pole and stood about halfway along it, they both had fearsome stockwhips.

The comp
è
re asked
for
quiet as Lord Barber briefly took his cock out of the girl’s mouth and held up the starting pistol.

“Take the strain!” the comp
è
re
shouted
when he saw the gun go up. With a heavy slithering and rattling of steel the slaves leaned forwards, tensioning the chains behind them, their fingers anxiously s
eeking
the best grip on the steel that ran over their shoulder. The gun fired and immediately the arena echoed to the snaps of the lashes as they began to torment the slaves into action.