Blonde Fury (9 page)

“Never turn your back!” he growled as the girl
he had struck spun back to face
her opponent and walked into a backhand slash across her breasts which made her double over to try and protect them. Scott sighed, he knew he had been the cause of the girl’s imminent defeat and although fairness was not a big part of a slave’s life he knew he ought to even things up. He stepped sideways and scythed a lash in across the other girl’s buttocks. This one had seen him coming however and knew not to turn her back on her opponent under any circumstances, so Scott gave her two across the middle back to even up the score enough to allow the first girl to straighten up and return to the fray. Then he stalked on in an even worse mood.

That was what happened when the bosses intervened, he told himself furiously. They upset everything! No doubt they were very good at all the money stuff, but it was his job to keep the Proteus stable and its complement of over a hundred slaves ticking along smoothly. And you didn’t do it by talking to them! He had spent months training them to think of themselves as creatures of pure physicality. They were bodies to be moved, enjoyed, employed and used as their owners decided. They existed to give pleasure in whatever way was required and in return the chips gave them orgasms
that were sometimes awesome to behold and
he
made sure they got plenty of them.

But you didn’t achieve all that by talking to them! He had Ace perfectly balanced and attuned to her role as the stable’s star performer in several events and as the Pass Receiver in the Demolition Derby. She would feed from his hand
, go docilely to any playroom
she was directed to
,
but
give her a whip and
she
would
fight lik
e a wildcat
out on the arena floor. She was a pampered, groomed and gorgeous thoroughbred.

And t
he bosses wanted to talk to her!
He sighed again as he entered the stable block and went to Ace’s stall where she had been left since breakfast at the bosses’ o
r
ders.
The tall slave was pacing
up and down nervously,
her hobble chain
rattling and slithering behind her
and Scott sighed again. Already she was unsettled as she hadn’t been exercised or taken out for training after her morning feed. His chief groom came up beside him with her clip board and joined him at the half door at the front of the stall.

“She’s in good condition, Mr Holroyd. Ate well this morning, stiffness from the last games wearing off, no
cuts
scarring. She’ll be ready to go again by the end of the week.”

“Aye,” Scott replied gloomily. “She’ll have to be, we’ve got
two Games in the next two months and then they’re off to the States for a Derby
, and you know how t
hey’ll fight not to lose on their home turf
!”

“She’ll be fine, Sir,” the girl said. “But why hasn’t she been taken out today?”

“Because the bosses want to talk to her!”

The groom frowned. “What on earth would they want to do that for?” She knew her charges perfectly well and knew you spoke
about
them, but you didn’t talk
to
them. You geed them up and whipped them
on
if necessary and petted them and told them they were good. You flogged them if they were bad. But you didn’t talk to them!

“Just get her on her leash and I’ll take her over to the house,” he said and gave her rump an absent minded slap as she opened the do
or. The girl was Yorkshire born
like him
,
and although she came from a ‘county’ family
– unlike Scott -
the pair often had great sessions in the stable’s playrooms; sometimes using a slave, sometimes not. Scott watched her jodhpur-clad buttocks sway as she walked and thought that, once this
day’s work was done, striping them
with a cane might provide the relief he would need.

With Ace attached by her tongue leash, Scott headed back across the training ground and towards the main house. He kept the leash short so that she was walking almost beside him. Her eyes were bright and wide as she saw where she was being taken. A journey to the house usually meant a session in one of the many dungeons and as many orgasms as a slave could handle.

“Not today, lass
,
” Scott told her and sighed again but he brightened up when it occurred to him that a session or two might be exactly what she
would need later on.

He reached out and tweaked a nipple, making it instantly stand up thick and red on her quivering breast and fetching a soft gasp from her, followed by a rattling of steel against teeth as she swallowed.

Once inside he led her up the stairs instead of down into the cellars where all the fun was to be had and she looked increasingly nervous as she padded across carpets and rugs. Naked, collared and on a leash she was almost comically out of place in rich surroundings. Scott could see her suddenly becoming aware of her nudity
and felt her shrink against him. He reached down and patted her bottom.

“Steady girl. We’ll soon have you back in your nice comfy stall,” he told her as they approached a massive door at the end of a long, richly carpeted corridor. He led her
through it
and by now she was pressing against his shoulder, half trying to shield herself behind him. This was no place for a slavegirl, he told himself for the thousandth time. Normally a slave was proud of her body – it was
the sum of all
she was and what all those around her wanted of her
,
using it for others’ pleasure
was what they were tirelessly trained for
. But here, in the high ceilinged office with portraits on the walls and light pouring
in
through tall sash windows and a table with fully dressed people sitting behind it
; here, she was just a naked, bewildered girl.

Scott brought her to
a
halt in front of the table, behind which sat the members of the consortium
which
owned the stable. Neil Consadine sat in the middle and addressed her.

“That was a terrific performance last week….er…..Ace. That final pass you took in the Derby was a very fine piece of work!” he began nervously.

Scott nearly laughed out loud. What did he think she was going to do? Give him a curtsy and say
thank you kind sir? Oh sure the bosses
could all acquit themselves well with a slave in a dungeon but they didn’t fully
understand how intense the conditioning had to be to get a girl to be that submissive
– even with a chip
.

The urge to laugh finally relaxed Scott as he realised how hopelessly out of their depth the bosses were. He reached into his pocket and fetched out a packet of mints he kept as treats for good girls. He took one out and held it on the palm of his open hand in front of Ace. Even with her tongue ring and leash she was able to nibble it up into her mouth and chew it happily, her ring and clip making soft clicking noises as Neil Consadine tried to talk Ace through the history of her parentage, who her real father was and what had been done to her
mother and to her
.

When he finished she
ignored him and
nuzzled Scott’s shoulder asking for another treat.

Neil Consadine leaned back and sighed. “Well we tried,” he said
, as he saw that he hadn’t made the slightest impression
. “And at
least we now know
that even if she picks up any scuttlebutt, it won’t upset her.”

“And she’s a credit to your conditioning Mr. Holroyd,” the woman said. “I’m sure you know how best to settle her back down, so we won’t detain you.”

“Thank you,” Scott said and clicked his tongue as he dragged Ace’s head around and led her back to the slave quarters. But not to her stall. He had a better idea and one that would restore her tranquillity.

Ace paced the cell impatiently, absent mindedly she rubbed at her wrists
, from which
her cuffs had been removed. Her cuffs were only ever removed when she was about to perform on the training ground or in the arena. And she had no hobble chain. And this wasn’t her stall.

Ace liked her stall.

Was she being punished? Although she would never dream of being deliberately disobedient, Ace quite enjoyed being whipped at the post outside the slave quarters. Ace liked the attention.

But they had won the Demolition Derby only a few days ago, so it was unlikely her trainer would punish her. Ace smiled as she recalled the feel of soft girlflesh yielding against her as they flew round the track on thundering skates, the way she had tossed her opponents over the rails and briefly seen the bodies tumbling out of sight into the floodlit night. She revelled in the memory of her team mates whipping her forwards so that she sq
uatted down on her sk
ates and zipped between their
opponents’
spread legs so fast they couldn’t stop her. She heard again the applause and felt her team mates hug her as she brandished the ball after the last, winning pass had been safely made.

Ace didn’t know what those strange people had been telling her. It didn’t concern her.

Ace didn’t know what was going to happen next. She didn’t like that.
Ace was not having a good day.

The door to this strange cell opened and a girl was pu
shed in, she was followed by their
trainer, who undid her cuffs and then took them off.

“Go on, you daft bitch
!” he said, prodding the blonde newcomer in the back. “You’ve got all day to shag each other
!”

He left, slamming the heavy door behind him and Ace threw herself into the blonde’s arms. It was
the girl who had once been called
Tracey,
and who was
her best friend and frequent stall mate, when the trainer felt like rewarding them both. She was also the Pass Maker in th
e Demolition Derby team and
they were the two lynch pin positions.

The cell had a narrow bed against the back wall and as soon as the girls had finished greet
ing each other with tongue ring-
clinking kisses, they adjourned to it
. Ace almost threw Tracey down onto her back and the girl immediately let her legs fall open
.

Ace looked down at
her
thick outer labia and the coral inner lips that were engorging and opening before her eyes. Savouring the moment she lowered her face and kissed up the last few inches of Tracey’s left thigh, teasing both of them by stopping short of the cunt that was now glistening with discharge. She paid similar attention to the right thigh, loving the softness of the girl’s skin and drinking in the scent of her excitement. Then suddenly she plunged her face into the girl’s vulva, searching for the vaginal opening with her tongue and bathing in the juices that flooded over her. Tracey gave a sharp intake of breath as she was caught by surprise and then her hands were tangling in Ace’s hair and incoherent grunts were urging her on to bring her off. It took hardly any time and only a few tongue lunges into the pungent, flooding sheath of the vagina before Tracey’s cries were getting more and more frantic. Ace withdrew just enough to move along and start lashing the hard little nubbin of the clitoris with her tongue and she broke. Her body bucked and thrashed under her, Ace lowered her head and drank in the juice that flooded from her and sobbing cries from above her announced that Tracey had come. For a moment they lay, Tracey splayed out and wrecked, Ace with her head resting on one of her thighs, her hands still under Tracey’s buttocks
, then she slowly began to make her way up her lover’s body, stopping to kiss the deep cushions of breastflesh on the way. Tracey was always just on the cusp of being overweight and was frequently removed from the rest of the squad for special training but her good humour and resilience to suffering in the arenas meant she had value to the stable, besides she was a superb pass maker on the Demolition Derby track. Tracey groaned softly under the caresses and Ace knew that the endorphins released by the chip would be beginning to stir again with the stimulation of having her lover lying on her. The need to climax again would grow until she would have no choice but to bring herself off if there was no outside stimulation. They were sex addicts and now it was Ace’s turn
for a fix
.