Into The Arena (20 page)

But it was between those wide spread and straining thighs that their true natures really betrayed themselves. Carlo could see the shaven lips of their sexes peeled apart and his fingers twitched at the thought of slipping easily between them and up into the moisture and warmth of a slave's belly, responding eagerly to her master's attentions.

As if reading his thoughts, Mark, who had taken down a multi-bladed whip from its hook on the wall and was standing behind the slaves, suggested that once the ritual beating had been given, they should enjoy all three slaves.

Carlo watched the faces as the whip was applied to backs, buttocks and thighs, each girl getting five or six and then having to wait while her two companions got their strokes before getting her next ration. Apart from eyes closing in pleasure and the occasional jerk as a stroke wrapped and hit a breast or snapped round a thigh to snap at their bare crotches, they made no movement or sound. This was the part of the day they loved most; the Boss taking time to beat them personally. One girl licked her lips to moisten them and clicked the steel ring through her tongue against her white teeth.

Once the swish and smack of the whip had ceased the men took them down and had each one, while she knelt on all fours on the straw in her stall. Then they strolled out into the evening while the stablegirls got on with washing, drying and bedding the slaves down.

"Come up to the house, Carlo," Mark said. "I want to sort out what events we're going to stage, how we're going to timetable everything. We're meeting the opposition in Tokyo next week and I want something to put on the table. Gerd can handle training for a few days."

"Okay, Boss. But when we get back we're going to have to move fast to knock the squads into shape."

"How did that big blonde get on today?"

"Good as you'd expect. Took her knocks well."

"How long before she can go solo, do you reckon?"

"I'd say let her get a couple of shows as squad leader under her belt and then we'll see."

"Ah! But she's still got to make herself leader, Carlo," Mark laughed.

"She'll do it."

The two men walked on in the cool evening. Around them were the sounds of the estate settling down. Horses whinnied in their stalls, and as they passed the barracks, they could hear from the small cell windows the moans and cries of pleasure as one or other of the slaves was taken by a guard. From Two Squad's barracks came the unmistakable sound of a whip being plied for some misdemeanour or other.

Chapter 15

The two stable owners met on neutral ground. In this case a palatial house in the suburbs of Tokyo. The opposing stable was owned by a suave Arab, dressed in an immaculately tailored suit. He was tall and slender with a thin, cruel mouth and Carlo's boss introduced him as Prince Hassan Bin Mahmoud. He was an owner whose slaves Carlo's had never been put up against, but just by looking at the Prince and his trainer - a big Swede - Carlo knew that they would be well disciplined at the very least.

For three days the talks dragged on. Issues such as what contests the solo gladiators would take part in had to be hammered out, and what contests would take place in the pens and when they would be held. As it was the first show to feature a full size arena with complete squads of slaves taking part in addition to the individual fights, both stables were anxious that the spectators should have something to watch every hour of the day, and of course the videos would be put up on the net, so the more of those the better. The most troublesome issue was devising a routine of inspection so that each trainer could be quite certain that, for example, the opposition's slaves weren't fighting with lead weighted whips or staves. Acceptable levels of 'encouragement' had to be established for the chariot and pony races; should studded thongs and tit straps, with dildos and butt plugs coated with each trainer's favourite recipe for irritating the rectum be the order of the day? Carlo smiled as these discussions took place around him, the squad girls hadn't experienced his own special blend yet. That was going to be a treat for them.

And then finally a climactic event had to take place in the arena itself at the end of the two days' of contests. Carlo had given a lot of thought to this and was pleased with the delighted laughs which greeted his plan. He was proud of it and was quite certain it would make his arena and his slaves famous. The meeting broke up late on the third evening and there were handshakes all round before the men retired to their rooms for the night.

Their anonymous host had left his house well staffed with willing and pretty girls but Carlo never liked being away from work for too long and besides he missed the way a fit and strong fighter could grip her cunt around him as he screwed her. And there was also the pleasure he took in having a girl straight after training or fighting, he liked them still sweat and dirt-streaked, the marks of whips or studs still fresh on their bodies and their cunts already open and practically dripping with their excitement. On that last night, as he rolled off a girl and dismissed her, he found his thoughts turning to his girls at home - and to Blondie in particular. To his surprise he realised that he hadn't had her in weeks and as his eyes closed he determined to put that right as soon as he got back.

Tara hardly noticed Carlo's absence. The German worked them harder than even Carlo had. He made them run across country with the guards on horseback in attendance, until even Tara was staggering with thirst and exhaustion. Then the whips came into play and all the girls found they had reserves of strength and endurance that even they hadn't been aware of. He introduced them to the assault course and made them run it until once again they were literally dropping in their tracks. Then on the following day he made the groaning, limping squads run both. Cross-country in the morning; assault course in the afternoon. The day after that it was back to boxing.

Tara was so tired that she could hardly respond to the guards when they took her in the evenings and just had to lie back limply or hurriedly suck at a cock to get it to ejaculate quickly and let her sleep. But nevertheless it came as a pleasant surprise when Carlo himself came into her cell that night. He seemed to be quite urgent and wasted no time in taking her as she lay on her back. Even by the time he had discarded his shorts and climbed onto her bed she was lubricated and open for him, had he whipped her first she would have undoubtedly come under his rapid thrusts and quick ejaculation but as it was he pulled out of her before she had climaxed herself. But he made up for it by allowing her to frig herself while she took him in her mouth and she made sure that when he grabbed her hair and began to pump himself into her, she swallowed every drop of his spend gratefully.

Instead of being lined up on the training ground the next morning, Carlo had the girls of Two Squad led past the pens and towards the looming walls of the arena itself. Tara felt her heart hammering as she realised that he might be taking them there. And sure enough they were led to a side building which, inside, looked for all the world like the locker room in a gym or sports club. There was a plain bench along each of the longest sides of the room and there were showers at the far end. Above the benches were clothes hooks and down the centre of the room were placed several tables. Just before the showers and to the right of them was a plain door, on the other side of this the girls found themselves at one end of a long dark corridor. The only light came from the opening at the far end, and through this Tara could see an expanse of sand, which she realised with a surge of excitement that nearly took her breath away, was the floor of the arena itself.

"This is where you will enter the arena," Carlo told them proudly and then waved towards another door on the opposite side of the passage. "Your opponents will come in from there."

Tara supposed that he meant One Squad when he said 'opponents' but paid little attention, her eyes were riveted on the brightly sunlit sand which was coming closer as they all walked along the cool stone passage. Once they emerged from the shadows all the girls simply stood and turned round and round absorbing the sight that met them.

The arena was a long, narrow oval shape with banks of seating rising high along each side. At the far end of the oval was another gate identical to the one in which they now stood and beside both gates were loose boxes for horses, with doors that could be opened instantly by means of ropes pulled from either side. All this Carlo explained to them and Tara could plainly hear the pride in his voice.

"And you will see that unlike the Roman amphitheatres we don't need to use wooden boards for the edge of the arena itself. Plastic wire does just as well and it lets us get the seats right down to ground level," he told them.

Tara could see what he meant. The wide mesh fencing, tough and durable meant that indeed the crowd would be right at ground level, able to see everything. But behind those front seats the terraces rose steeply so that even those at the back would not be far away from the action. And, just like a football stadium, there was a second tier of seats above the first, and above those seats a narrow roof afforded the spectators some shade. But there was no shade down on the sand, down here where they would be fighting, sweating, maybe bleeding; subject to the whims of the people in the stands as to whether they got the thumbs up or down for their efforts - as Carlo informed them cheerfully.

"You will notice that instead of being round, this arena is oval. The shape is good for pursuit running and chariot racing," he paused and favoured them with his grin. "You don't know about those yet. But you will my beauties. You will. And you get to see yourselves on the big screen. Look!" He pointed up to where the roof overhung the top seats and they all saw the screens mounted on the front edge. Carlo explained that there would be cameras all round the arena and pictures from them would be shown, hugely magnified on those screens.

"So no one misses anything that goes on down here," he added.. "Now you see the holes in the ground down the centre?"

Tara looked and saw that in a long row, running down the middle of floor, there were square holes about a foot wide.

"If you get the thumbs down, there will be whipping posts there for you. And just think, my bitches, you will have all the cameras on you while you get your thrashing!"

His words passed straight over Tara's head. She was too busy envisaging the battle weary gladiators standing in the sun and waiting for the fevered crowd to decide whether they had given good value or not. The unfairness and the decadence of it should have appalled her, but instead those very qualities made it seem very erotic. She shifted her stance a little as she felt a tingle run through her from nipples to crotch, and noticed many of her fellows doing the same.

He gave them some time to walk around and soak up the atmosphere before he ordered them back to the room they had entered the arena from. Some of the guards had been in and the girls found that whips and shields had been left in piles on the tables. But in addition they found some extra items. There were leather guards for their forearms and shins, with metal studs, on the outsides Tara noted gratefully, and a wide leather belt for each girl which protected her kidneys. The reason for this precaution was that the whips were heavier still than the ones they had trained with, these were single bladed ones and towards the end of the blade, the leather had been split and then tied into a knot which left the two strands loose right at the tip. As the lash was some three feet long, Tara immediately saw that these weapons would provide a serious spectacle out on the floor of the arena.

Once the girls had donned all the equipment and taken up their whips, they were led back out onto the sand and Tara's stomach lurched with sheer exhilaration as she scanned the line of One Squad girls who were already kitted up and waiting for them. With their leather and steel accoutrements added to their shields and whips, the girls looked thrillingly authentic as well as erotically naked. But those thoughts were banished from her mind as Carlo gave his familiar cry of "Fight!" and she had to get to grips with the longer heavier whip. She and all the girls discovered that the contests became slower but landing a blow was much more satisfying. The lash made a meaty smack on impact and the recipient's body immediately showed the mark, a long thin weal flaring on the skin, terminating in a dark red spot where the knot had bitten. Everything was clearly geared towards providing the spectators with good value for money.

The empty stadium echoed to the familiar sounds of combat and Carlo's voice, cursing, instructing and encouraging for the rest of the morning but the harsh reports of the whips cracking across flesh and the answering yelps were louder than normal.

Tara found that pitting herself against an opponent with this new weapon, out on the floor of a real arena, was the most exciting moment of her life and her imagination peopled the seats with shouting crowds urging on their favourites. But the best part for her came as she ducked under a swinging shield, landed a solid lash across her foe's back and then danced back out of range. Her eye caught movement and colour up above her and she saw that the screens were in use. Gigantic images of her and the other fighters flickered across them, as the cameras panned in on every detail. She took a hard lash across her chest as her attention was distracted by a close up of Jet's back and superb buttocks, running with sweat and criss-crossed with dark weals. But then she returned to work, thrilled at the thought of her own image being up there. And that thought seemed to give her extra strength as she spun and dodged and struck until her opponent went down and she went to the aid of Channel who was having less luck. She flung herself into the fight so utterly that it came as a shock to her when Carlo called a halt and she looked around. Seven of Two Squad were still standing, while only five of One Squad were on their feet.

"First fight to Two Squad!" Carlo announced.

The girls trooped off wearily but Tara's group were exchanging triumphant looks. Their first combat in the arena and they had won against the snotty nosed bitches who had treated them with such disdain when they had first arrived.

In the late afternoon they fought again, and again Two Squad emerged battered but victorious. It seemed as though even the guards were pleased with them, or maybe it was just the more severe whip marks which laced their bodies, but for whatever reason, after they had eaten that evening, no fewer than five men came to the barracks and took their pleasure with nearly all the girls. Tara knelt and received a good mouthful of hot sperm from one of them after he had taken her anally and she was just carefully wiping her mouth and getting to her feet when Carlo entered.

"I'm pleased with you, my bitches," he told them. "Tonight you can go outside until it's time for lights out. I'm too kind to you, I know. But today you all fought well."

He turned on his heel and left, the rest of the guards following, while the girls looked at each other in amazement. It seemed to Tara as though they all looked at her for some kind of lead and eventually she shrugged and then timidly stepped out of the barracks and into the cool evening air. She looked around her carefully but there was no sign of Carlo or any of the guards.

It seemed as if he had meant it. They were free.

Slowly the other girls joined her, one or two stretching luxuriously in the unexpected freedom afforded by having no chains or guards. It was the first time since they had all woken up on board the ship that they had been given their freedom and they huddled together at first; even Tara experienced a strange unease at finding herself so unrestrained, so suddenly and unexpectedly.

"Well, girls. What do we do?" It was Jet who broke the silence. "Make a run for it?"

Tara shook her head. "It's what they'd expect and they'll be ready."

Channel settled herself on the ground with her back against the still warm stone of the barrack wall. "The guard who just had me on the table said he'd be back for more when he comes to chain us for the night. You girls run for it if you want. I'm staying."

Tara looked around again and her eye was caught by the tall shape of the arena, standing beyond the training ground and the pens. She remembered the day's fights and the echoes of the empty building, and again she recalled the solo gladiators running as ponies and how the Boss had fondled and petted them so proudly. However much she tried to deny it, she was where she wanted to be and she settled herself beside Channel. Cherry sat down beside her and Tara enjoyed the soft warmth of her body alongside hers. Soon all twelve girls were comfortably settled and relaxed conversations about how the fights had gone and which guard was currently reckoned the best screw, started up.