Bound for Glory (19 page)

“I’ll let you off looking me in the eyes just this once,” he told her. “Do it again and I’ll flay you.”

Her eyes didn’t flicker, but a small smile curled her lips; challenging, flirtatious, compliant…it seemed to have elements of all three. She was an interesting package this one. He told Susanne to untie her wrists and then shifted her body a little further along the bench so that he could stand and lift her legs up to rest against his shoulders. She let out a strained grunt as his penetration went to the maximum. Then holding her tight by the fronts of her thighs, Brian began to fuck her, moving his hips slowly back and forward. He looked round and jerked his head at Susanne who was standing behind him and shamelessly playing with her herself as she watched the tableau. At his gesture she came forwards and knelt behind him, sweeping her long hair back from her face before plunging it between his buttocks.

Brian was in heaven, with his cock ravishing the beautiful slave who had once been Anna Chatham, feeling the silky caress of her vagina and the strong grip of her pelvic floor muscles, whilst from behind him the gently questing tongue of his own sub made his anus tingle fetching a long groan of delight from him. And when the tide of lust could not be denied any longer he rammed himself into the slave, smacking his pelvis against hers and every time he withdrew Susanne’s tongue sent him surging back for more. He held still at his peak and listened to Ace scream her way through another climax before he withdrew and allowed Susanne to lick him clean and then move to cleaning Ace up.

She would do.

The next morning Brian watched her win her heat of the single pony races. If she didn’t win the final, he decided, he would be dining on deep fried hat that night. The chariot racing which followed in the arena was some of the best he had seen with plenty of scrapping between the teams and close finishes. Along with the rest of the crowd, once they had got their breath back from that, he made his way back to the race track and watched the tall brunette pull her wiry little driver to an easy victory by two lengths in her final. He had been too late to place a bet before her odds shortened but felt he could forgive her that.

Finally he and Susanne settled down after lunch to watch the finale. The Proteus stable had built up a sufficient lead to be declared the winners before it started and so the whole thing could be enjoyed by the crowd purely for the sport of it. Whilst everyone had been watching the final pony racing and then taking lunch, hoses had been played over the arena floor until it was nothing but sandy coloured ooze. At one end the ground rose slightly and this had been left dry. At places along the perimeter fences and from the whipping posts that had been erected in the centre of the arena, various types of whips and crops had been hung.

When the starting pistol sounded the gates at the wet end of the arena swung open and both stables’ girls were herded in whilst at the other end, the men from both stables filed in and stood on the dry ground. They were all naked and very clearly ready for action. Some of the cocks on view sported leather strapping round them. Some of them were pierced at the helm and some had barbells going through the shafts.

There were over two hundred naked women herded into the arena and barely forty men at the far end.

The crowd waited with bated breath to see what would happen next. Normally there was a specific conflict set up between the two squads of slaves but here there didn’t appear to be an obvious one, the girls jostled and pushed as they were urged out onto the arena floor but there didn’t seem to be any clear conflict scenario. However, the organisers knew their slaves well and knew that any arena slave, would fight a girl from an opposing stable tooth and nail, in spite of the lashings and abuse she took from her own stable, to which she would be fiercely loyal. They also knew that by the end of a Games, they were desperate for as much cock as they could get.

For a second the crowd could see the first of the slaves hesitate when they came to the mud but then watched as they did the maths and realised that not only were the opposing stable’s slaves their deadliest enemies, every single other female, from either side, would try to stake her claim to a good seeing to by the limited number of cocks available. And with an ear splitting shriek the crowd of naked females surged forwards, grabbing weapons from wherever they could and simultaneously began to fight with slaves from the opposite stable and then with their own stablemates. Meanwhile the women in the crowd added their scream of excitement as the cameras lingered over the lengths of manhood on offer.

Brian grinned in appreciation of the spectacle as the tide of naked femininity began to turn into gleaming, chocolate coloured monsters as they wrestled and grappled with each other, falling and slipping in the thick ooze. Some of them headed for the whips hanging from the fences and turned them on any other woman who threatened to stagger farther along the arena floor and sprays of glutinous mud were thrown up as the leathers smacked across the already welted flesh. Up on the giant screens, the individual contests were closed in on and the crowd hooted with laughter as girls slipped helplessly and fell with legs thrown up, wide spread. Hands tried to claw at wobbling breasts but slipped off and gradually the brighter girls began to find purchase at the cunts and arses at one end of their enemies, and their hair at the other end. Briefly the cameras closed in on Ace and Brian saw her throw another girl high into the air using a crotch hold, then knock two heads together and slither and stagger on, leaving two dazed girls crawling in the mud behind her. They immediately began to fight each other. Slowly the brown tide of squealing and slithering women made its way along the floor of the arena towards the men who held out the promise of what every chipped slavegirl dreamed about. And Brian noted that Ace was right up at the forefront. She took a few hard knocks and got into several whip fights and sprays of filth were sent arcing up from her back and breasts but even when she went down she managed to wriggle clear and regain her feet, then dole out retribution.

Hers was one of the first faces featured on the giant screens as the girls finally staggered clear of the ooze and the crowd loved watching her filth coated head rammed down onto the sand as a man with a Prince Albert piercing to his cock, stood behind her and then knelt to feed his thick shaft into pretty well the only bit of her body that was still pink. Brian watched the screens and caught glimpses of her going two and even three up, watched her cheeks hollow as she frantically sought to drain every cock of its liquor even as her own hands worked feverishly between her thighs. It was a delicious spectacle and in the Owners’ box, Brian graciously allowed Susanne to be taken by whoever wanted her. He himself had a pretty Japanese girl, buggering her while watching Ace held down spread-eagled and lashed across her breasts before having one man sit on her face while another lifted her legs as he had the previous night and shafted her right to the neck of her womb. Even so she was one of the few women still able to get onto all fours once the final hooter had sounded.

Once she had been hosed down, he had her hogtied and stowed in the boot of his car, then he set out back to The Lodge. He still had a lot of work to do.

For a start he had to select the final team of twenty girls. Then he had to teach them to roller skate as if they had been doing it all their lives. And he didn’t have much time.

Chapter Fourteen

Roller Derby, an all female full-contact sport had drifted in and out of fashion several times before the arenas became a force to be reckoned with in popular culture. It had consisted of two teams of five girls roller skating around a polished wooden track at high speed. Both teams skated in the same direction and one team tried to propel one of its members through the other team by various means – inevitably physical and rough – and scored points by how many times the opposition could be lapped.

Demolition Derby had grown from Roller Derby and the arenas had added some touches of American Football and Ruby Union to the basic format to produce something that would keep an arena crowd happily absorbed and involved with all the drama it had come to expect.

A Derby now consisted of two teams of twenty girls competing over five sets. Each set was composed of two ‘jams’. In each jam there would be one defence team and one offence team – each of ten girls. The stables took it in turns to field their defence and offence teams. The object was for each offence team to get one girl through the opposition’s defence as both teams skated at high speed around a much wider and longer wooden track than an old Roller Derby one. If they could do that, then from the back of the offence team a girl would launch a ball towards the Receiver – the girl the team would have tried to get through the opposition. If she could catch the ball it was one pass completed and counted as one point. It was the defending team’s job to disrupt and prevent completed passes by whatever means they could. The teams skated for fifteen circuits of the track in each jam and at the end of two jams the scores were added up and another set was begun, a match being played out over the best of five sets.

It was fast and furious action and provided plenty of spills as girls slammed each other into the safety railings – and sometimes over them as they were deliberately not built too high – and fought viciously to stop the Receiver getting through and then to stop passes being completed.

Apart from standard roller skates, the girls just wore very short, pleated skirts and guards on their forearms to help them sweep the opposition players off their feet and off the track if possible. It was no holds barred, high speed combat.

And the term ‘Demolition’ had come to be used because there were no substitutes or blood replacements allowed. If a girl was damaged enough not to be able to carry on, then her team just had to do its best without her. It was not rare for a fifth set – if one was needed to settle a match - to be played out by teams with only four or five members left standing. That was one reason why the action was so good, each side wanted to deplete the other as much as possible.

When Anna was finally taken out of the car boot, bruised, battered and cramped from the hog tie, she found herself in a real stable. Once she was able to stand and walk easily enough a small, Indian woman clipped a tongue leash to her and led her into the sort of stable a squad slave dreamed of being housed in. It was one of those where the stars of the arenas were kept. She was tongue tethered to a hook on a wall and left to look around while some sort of altercation took place beside her. The man – Brian – she thought his name was, after the orgasms he had driven her to her memory was not too clear – was arguing with an impressive woman with thick red hair that was beginning to go grey at the temples.

“You know Peter told you to clear the decks, Patti. We’ve got fresh stock being shipped in specially in the next few days. This one’s part of that shipment – just a bit in advance!” he was saying.

“That’s all very well!” the woman replied hotly. “But you tell me where they’re all supposed to fit! We’ve been phoning all the stables to ask them to take their stock back for a few weeks and mostly they’ve been helpful, but they’ve got to find room too, don’t forget! And in the meantime you just stroll in with a stray you picked up from somewhere or other and expect me to find her a berth!”

“Patti!” Brian replied, clearly getting a bit exasperated. “Just bed her down doubled up with one of the others for now and we’ll sort everything out in the morning. I know it’s difficult and there’s going to be a lot of stock being shipped back to its owners and new stock arriving, but this is important!”

“And that’s another thing,” the woman went on ignoring Brian’s attempts to placate her. “In a few weeks’ time, from what I understand, it’ll be all change again! And me and Raika are supposed to be running an organised stable here!”

“Patti!” Brian snapped. “Put this slave in a stall for tonight – doubled up if you have to and then report to me in the yard for whipping!” He turned to a groom. “You! Go and fetch the standard punishment whip and tell the staff their mistress will answer to me in the yard in half an hour!”

The girl scurried off and Anna nervously watched from the corner of her eyes. The man had been rather impressive when he had shouted and Anna knew that despite the hammering it had taken in the arena only a few hours before, her cunt was moistening. The two faced each other, silent for a moment, the woman’s large breasts heaving as she fought to master her anger. Then she visibly calmed and shook her hair back.

“Well do it good and hard, Brian, if you’re going to. You know it helps when the staff see how hard I can take it. And over the next few weeks I’ll need all the authority I can muster to keep this place running smoothly.”

“I know, Patti. It’ll be a round hundred lashes and I’ll see if you can fuck Raika afterwards once she’s patched you up.”

Patti nodded in appreciation of the fact that it was a fair punishment and well earned.

Anna was taken to a stall that already held a tall Scandinavian blonde and the two eyed each other warily as the groom shortened their hobble chains so that they could barely meet in the middle of it. Then she filled the trough with their supper and hurried off to witness her mistress put to the whip. It was the first time that Anna had tried feeding from one but by watching her new stablemate she picked up enough to get a reasonable amount of a thick stew inside her, while from outside the unmistakable sounds of a hard whipping began to filter in. As she sat back on her heels and licked her lips before sucking from the water bottle, she decided that the red head was one tough woman. She could tell just by the sound that the lash was being laid on very hard, but it wasn’t until very near the end of the beating that any screams escaped her.

The two slaves exchanged quiet smiles in secretive appreciation of the rending pleasure to be found at the end of a hard master’s lash, so long as it wasn’t wielded in anger. But this whipping was punishment and Anna’s mind was full of images of a pale body writhing at the post as lash after lash fell on it with no remission and no mercy until the full punishment had been taken.

For the first week after the return from the East Angels’ arena, Brian and Peter Lang had their work cut out preparing for the team-building that lay ahead. It was just as well that the punishment Brian had inflicted on Patti kept her quiet as they wrestled with the problems that confronted them.

They had to strip the practice stadium of its seats and replace them with a Derby circuit, but it transpired that a full size circuit wouldn’t fit, so a smaller replica would have to do. They had to return all the slaves who had been lodged with them for training to their owners, until after the big Derby confrontation. Mostly the owners appreciated what was at stake and were co-operative, but that still meant that CSL’s own slaves had to be moved out if they weren’t selected for the Derby team. Eventually that problem was solved by sending the horses that The Lodge kept stabled at its farm to livery and stabling the slaves there instead. It took a day or so to hose them out but by the fourth day after the Games, the CSL stable was ready to receive the slaves from whom Brian would select his final team for Mostyn’s show down with Andrews.

The Asian girls flown in from the Orange team arrived first and he was encouraged by their neatness of build and athleticism. They should do for the offence team to punch holes in the opposition’s defence, they were small and fast and Ace could burst through in their wake to get to the front. But that left defence. An assortment of slaves from Salazar’s stable, one or two from the Proteus and a couple of graceful Middle Eastern girls from Bakhtar formed the basis from which he would select for that. He wanted sturdy girls who could nevertheless turn and be flexible and quick.

While work went on at a frantic pace inside the CSL arena, he drilled his slaves and he and Peter at the end of each day would cross out those who weren’t going to make it. By the end of a fortnight after the East Angels’ games, the selection was complete, surplus stock had been sent home and a core of twenty remained. Or rather nineteen remained. The position of Passer had not been filled. They had tried all the slaves with hurling the oval balls at targets out on the training ground and not one had had the right combination of good aim, strength and the ability to think on her feet.

Eventually the track was complete and there was no alternative but to begin training while the search went on and Tony, Brian’s assistant was detailed off to go on the road, starting with the British arenas, but moving abroad if necessary, and find their girl.

At that time news came through that The Blues had been defeated on their return to England by the Red Dragons. Andrews was riding high in the public opinion polls.

To their amazement Tony returned within three days, while the other girls were still learning how to stay upright on skates. In a crate in the back of his van he had what he assured Brian was the perfect shoo-in for Passer. It looked as though everything was falling into place just in time.

Anna had enjoyed having the stall to herself and she lapped up all the attention and grooming she got as her bruises and cuts healed. But for days on end she was left to pace restlessly around her stall while outside the sounds of activity tickled her curiosity. But then there had been an influx of new, exotic slaves and she found herself sharing with a Middle Eastern girl who bore a brand at her delta of some kind of bird of prey. For some reason this time, they were encouraged to become friends and their chains were taken off so they could walk freely in their stall, albeit with hands denied them. They were reduced to smiles and shy – at first – physical gestures of friendship. A quick touch of a breast to the other’s breast, a look, a caress of hip to hip and then a gentle lick from the other girl to Anna’s shoulder. By the end of the day they lay in a sixty nine position on their straw and lazily tongued each other, making each other tremble in small orgasms from time to time. Both of them dreaming of the time when they would be granted the use of their hands.

Soon after that training had begun again but it was different. This time she had to practise running as hard as she could and catching an oval ball thrown from behind her. The other slaves were detailed off to charge into her and try to stop her making the catch. She had to learn how to dodge and twist away from them whilst keeping her eye on the ball that seemed to hang in the air, and then she could leap and take it into her chest or stomach safely and Brian or Tony would give her a treat and pet her. Then Tony left and a man they all called Mister Lang came. He frightened Anna because it seemed that even Brian deferred to him and he seemed to be able to look right through a girl and assess her entire personality with just one look.

But then quite soon, Tony was back. They were out on the training ground, practising the strange moves the men commanded them to, which consisted of all of them running but some of them ordered to barge into others from behind and try to trip their targets up. The targets had forearm guards on and if they weren’t brought down would swipe their attackers hard with them. Anna and several others were bleeding from mouths and noses, but they were learning to make very sure that any girl they attacked went down and stayed there. A van bearing the CSL logo pulled onto the ground and Tony jumped out. Immediately they were told to stand easy and Anna watched as a crate was unloaded and opened.

She couldn’t help giving a squeal of excitement as a blonde girl was taken out and released from her hog tie. It was Tracey.

The noise inside the CSL training stadium was beyond deafening. The naked steel of its shell echoed the roar of the roller skates on wood supported on a steel framework and the yells and screams of twenty girls reverberated until the sounds overlapped and merged into one painful tsunami of volume.

Brian stood in the middle of the track – or the in-field as it was called - and turned, following the action. The defence team was practising keeping its own offence at bay. All the girls had foam guards on their forearms and soft leather mittens on their fists, the main event was only a fortnight away and injuries had to be avoided if at all possible. But even as he watched, one defender managed to forearm smash a girl and send her pinwheeling over the rails. He blew a blast on his whistle that was shrill enough to penetrate the din and ducked under the track where it was built up and banked at each end to allow the girls to skate round at full speed, to check on the downed girl. He knelt by the writhing, naked figure and made sure she was only winded by the fall from seven or eight feet. Her basic training in taking falls had stood her in good stead. They had debated whether to put gym mats down to soften the falls in training, but eventually had decided that they might as well get used to falling onto hard ground. There would be nothing soft for them in the Northern Lights’ arena.

As the girl tottered up and took a minute or two to recover, Tony entered and came across.

“Mostyn’s coming down. Mr Lang just told me,” he said.

“Well, we’ve got some kind of team to show him at least,” Brian replied looking up at the other slaves who were either leaning on the rails getting their breath back or were lying flat out, chests heaving.

He urged the slave back to the level straights on the circuit and she vaulted back over the rails.