THE PRIZE (21 page)

Brian tensed. The Prince’s team were ahead okay, but to win by ten points or more, they needed the chariot racing to look secure. As he watched, the purple team began to swing in. There was going to be a fight. He reached out his right hand and slipped it under Amelia’s bottom, she started and then lifted a little. His hand encountered her naked flesh and the softness of her cunt, buried in the heat between her thighs. He didn’t take his eyes off the arena, nor did he seek to enter her. He simply encompassed her cunt with his hand and began to squeeze.

He felt the girl melt against him and grinned fiercely as he watched the contest unfold.

Ayesha felt the rein pull her gently to her right and responded. Then there was a sudden flurry of searing lashes and she screamed into her bit as they were hit. Having been a crucial few inches ahead, Ayesha couldn’t see exactly what was going on. Behind her she could feel the other girls fighting, but there was a continuous pull on her rein and she had to obey. With her head pulled to the right she saw the centreboard and realised each driver was trying to make the opposition crash. Her whipman was merciless and the itching inside her rectum was unbearable, she leaned harder into her work and behind there were frantic yells and screams. Then suddenly they were past the end of the centreboard and there was a ferocious jerk on her reins. Her head was wrenched savagely to the right and both rigs pivoted. With their sweating slaves locked in combat the chariots swung round and began to pound along the second part of the first lap.

Brian held his breath. He had been amazed to see that Ayesha was actually running lead and hoped the trainer knew what he was doing, she had to be very inexperienced. For a moment on that first corner it looked as though the Prince’s chariot might overturn as both rigs skidded on the sand but then battle resumed. The naked slaves swung at each other, Ayesha and her partner just inches ahead of the battle and on the big screens the crowd enjoyed the relentless play of the whips on the juddering buttocks and straining backs. The second turn was as close as the first, the two locked inextricably together. But over the second lap, one of the Prince’s slaves managed to get a telling blow in against her opposite number. She went down and was dragged by her shackled wrist, the pair behind her tripped over her and the rig slewed round as the driver and whipman shouted, cursed and flailed at their team. But the Prince’s chariot was away and clear for a relaxed canter to the finish. He relaxed his grip on Amelia’s cunt and moved instead to her breasts.

Ayesha stood snorting around her bit and trying to recover her breath. Behind her she could hear the men examining the rest of the team. There seemed to be some trouble with one of the other girls, something about having been caught badly by a whip. Eventually though she felt male hands on her, examining, pressing here and there and finally her bit was pulled clear of her mouth long enough for a drink of cool water, then it was replaced and they were driven back to the line. This time they were drawn on the inside. To her surprise she was reined back at the start but saw that her driver was going to simply race this time, the two chariots made two laps without any bumping and boring but on the third, her driver made a fatal mistake. He and his whipman suddenly pushed the team into a headlong, whip driven gallop to try and charge into the side of the opposition at the cusp of the turn. But they saw it coming and reined in, letting the prince’s chariot pass harmlessly in front of them. Ayesha’s team were unable to stop and crashed straight into the wall at the end of the arena. The slaves’ feet skidded helplessly as the momentum of the rig pushed them on and there was a numbing impact.

By the time they had regained their feet, the red’s chariot had turned and passed behind them. All they could do was limp back and prepare for the deciding race.

Ayesha could hear the anxiety in the men’s voices. They were damaged goods now. Ayesha herself was cut on the legs from her collision with the wall. Cherry was scratched all up her stomach and she couldn’t tell what other injuries the others had picked up.

Amelia ran her hand up and down the tight bulge in the front of Brian’s trousers. Her eyes were fastened on the video screens which were currently showing pictures from the cameras mounted on the fronts of the chariots themselves. The images allowed everyone to assess the state of the teams. Both of them were showing signs of wear and tear to the buttocks and back. The thin whipcord lashes of the longer whips left very thin traces but even so every single slave was laced with its tracks while the two pairs of slaves nearest the drivers were showing heavy patches of pink where the floggers had been wielded as well.

Brian glanced at her and realised that with her other hand she was wanking an elderly man. He spurted his seed over her hand even as Brian watched and then she was on her knees in front of him, fumbling with his trousers.

“If I’m quick, I can blow you before the last race,” she muttered.

“Stand up you silly bitch and bend over to do it. There’s a man who needs to fuck you.”

The man in question thanked Brian and stood behind Amelia who had hurriedly stood up and spread her legs. Brian himself stood up and she was able to bend over and get her mouth round him.

The two men nodded at each other companionably while each enjoyed their end of her. Although she wriggled vigorously on one cock and sucked hungrily at the other, she barely milked them in time to watch the race. But she just had time to get to the railing and hitch up her skirt again to take another man from behind as the starting pistol cracked. Brian smacked one buttock as he stood alongside her and then gripped a breast and squeezed again.

Ayesha had never taken whip like it. Once the pistol sounded, she shrieked as the lash scored her harder than ever; and faster. Behind her she could hear the others giving tongue and together they made a mad dash to get away from the scorching lash. She had no idea of what her driver intended and was past caring. Half blinded by sweat she raced down one length of the arena and was pulled hard in to the right. She only realised that they had
overtaken
the reds when she found they weren’t hitting anything and she was running alongside the centreboard, they skidded hard around the corner and held the inside lane on the second leg. The whipping decreased and the reins were pulled back just slightly. Suddenly in a storm of dust and a constant barrage of cracks from their whips, the red team struck back, overtaking on their left and causing Cherry to rear back as she was caught across her breasts by the opposition’s whipman. But as soon as the red chariot was two pairs of slaves ahead, Ayesha’s driver and whipman set about hammering at their team again and they reached the second turn holding station. The reds went wide, probably they had seen the injuries to the Prince’s team and saw no need to risk getting involved, they could win just by running. But Ayesha’s speculations were cut short by a renewed flurry of lashes. Shocked, she dug in but couldn’t understand why she was being asked to accelerate into a corner.

The answer came halfway round, she was wrenched to the right cruelly hard this time and she and Cherry had to practically turn on a sixpence. But she felt the rig behind her spin round so fast it nearly dragged her off her feet and there were screams and yells behind her and she realised what had been done. Their driver had pulled off the drift
manoeuvre
. He had managed to let the chariot skid sideways into the opposition’s slaves, taking their legs out from under them.

Amelia climaxed at the sight of the chaos on the arena floor. The two men had to dismount and sort out the slaves who were tangled up in the reins and each other. It was all captured on one of the video screens and the moment of impact was replayed in slow motion. It was easy to see the way the wheel of the purple chariot took the second slave on the red’s right completely off her feet and sent her legs crashing into her partner who fell and tripped the slave behind. In slow motion the curling
of the long driving whip and it
s
impact on the sweating slaveflesh was fascinating.

Chapter 23

Half an hour later, sated by twice having fucked the women he had been offered in exchange for Amelia while the losers were whipped round the stadium on the cart, Brian watched intently as preparations were made for the whip duelling. About forty couples were being fielded for the squad event - a mass spectacular before the more gruelling solo contests between the really tough slaves - he noted the ingenuity of the single gloves coupled with the use of a bar joining the slaves’ feet. It promised to be an unsubtle but a very erotic scene. Even from where he sat he could see the anxiety in the slaves’ faces as they were prepared. Up on the video screens the images were all of hands being joined in the gloves, ankle restraints clipped to spacing bars and sweat starting out on oiled flesh. Finally the guards gave each slave her whip and forty gleaming nudes faced each other, flicking hair back, settling their stances, licking dry lips. There was a second’s almost complete silence and then the pistol cracked.

Beside Brian, Amelia had her hand squeezed
between
her thighs, shamelessly masturbating and she sighed in pure pleasure as the spectacle got underway. The whips thudded into flesh with a meaty sound that had Brian’s cock springing instantly back to attention. It was a sound that filled the whole arena, continual volleys of impacts underscored by grunts of effort and pain. There was little room for skill or science, all the slaves could do was swing as hard as they could and take the opponent’s blows as well as they could. Brian lay back a little and pulled Amelia onto him. She came, but straddled him facing away so she could reach down and feed his cock into her without taking her eyes off the duelling couples. Increasingly now the smacks and thuds were being overlaid with cries as endurance limits were approached. Brian watched the video screens as Amelia’s graceful back blocked his view, but it was well worth it to feel her responsive and tight little cunt grip him. A pattern seemed to be developing; at first the girls belaboured their opponents’ sides and shoulders. The only evasive action available to them was to take a one-footed step back and lean away but as energy diminished more and more of them began to adopt an almost sideways on stance. Here a more alert slave could seize an advantage, if a quick strike with the whip could be delivered, it could catch the opponent’s breasts; an almost certain winning stroke with these weapons.

Amelia was grinding her pelvis down onto him now and sucking another man who was considerately standing a bit to one side of her.

The pace of the contests began to slow as the slaves began to take a few seconds between lashes, their breasts heaving, their skin shining with sweat, oil and a few smears of blood. The cameras roamed through the couples and Brian was delighted to see Ayesha briefly, her breasts heaving and showing the traces of the whip, but she was still swinging, her teeth gritted and her hair flying.
One slave, a black girl with her hair in corn rows was caught by the cameras as she launched a quick back and forth strike with her whip. The first blow caught her opponent’s back, knocking the breath from her and leaving her ga
s
ping helplessly as the heavy lash swung back and took her full across the breasts. She doubled over instantly and two more thudding blows to the back had her down.

“First blood to the home team!” the comp
è
re announced. As the victor was released and allowed to settle over her foe’s face another contest ended. This time the loser fell backwards and the victor was able to lean forwards and aim the lash up her body, the first one slamming onto her stomach. She screamed and curled into a foetal position to take a few more before anybody stepped in.

“That’s one to the visitors!” the comp
è
re told them. “Not that it matters, I’ve just totalled up the points and the home team’s won anyway! Shall we tell them and spoil their fun?”

There was a resounding “No!” from the crowd and general laughter. Three more slaves were down now and the cameras closed in on breasts bouncing under heavy flagellation and faces registering pain and tormented ecstasy, or cunts squirming down onto up-turned mouths and fingers frantically working at clitorises.

It was the cruelty of the reference to the slaves’ fun and the pointlessness of the contest down below that triggered Amelia’s orgasm. Bouncing up and down on Brian urgently and squeezing the cock she was sucking, she managed to get another double helping of sperm. Brian arched upwards as he came and felt some moisture spatter his face. He opened his eyes as he stopped pumping and above him saw a woman bent over the railing of the next tier up. Sweat was pouring from her as she was jerked about by the man behind her. Her eyes were heavy lidded and as Brian watched, she sighed quietly as the man came and then released her. She sank down onto her knees above Brian, noticing him for the first time and smiling down in exhausted contentment. She too was naked and her large breasts gleamed with sweat and sperm.

“Want a suck?” she asked in accented English.

Brian laughed aloud as the fleshy thuds and the groans floated up from the arena. Life was grand! The woman knelt in front of him and took him into a very capacious mouth while he reached down and hefted the heavy mounds of breastmeat which made a pleasant change from Amelia’s neat little tits.

Down on the sand, the contest had finished and the squad gladiators were being led or carried off to be replaced by the solo fighters. Blondie was being led out on her tongue leash.

Brian felt the woman begin to tongue him urgently, she obviously wanted to watch too. He hauled her up and she understood immediately, going back to the rail and bending forwards. Her pale buttocks were fleshy and wide, carrying a healthy scattering of ridged tram lines typical of caning. Between them was an obviously eager cunt, its outer lips still open and the liver coloured inner ones in full erection. Hardly needing to aim himself, Brian sank his full length into her in one slippery thrust, then leaned on her back to watch proceedings and fuck her whenever the mood took him.

He was interested to note that the stadium had gone a bit quieter as the famous blonde had entered, around him some people had actually resumed their seats and were watching intently, some of the women were hurrying to finish off whatever they were doing. The blonde was certainly a star.

What most interested Brian was how she would cope with this form of duelling. It seemed to offer very little for her athletic style of highly mobile combat. She was pitted against a tall girl, so blonde she was probably of Scandinavian origin. When they had both been restrained and kitted up along with the other three couples the cameras closed in again. The tall blonde was clearly not happy about being up against Blondie, she was looking around her with the hunted look of a sacrificial victim who knows there is no escape. Blondie on the other hand was looking down at her imprisoned wrists with a strange faraway look in her eyes.

The woman under Brian stirred and swung her pelvis against him.

“She always looks like that,” she said. “Like she’s not here at all.”

“You’ve been to the arenas before?” he asked beginning to fuck her.

“For sure!” the woman laughed.
“
My husband wants me to see if I can fuck a whole arena one day!”

Brian laughed as he pounded into her and drove her to yet another orgasm. She knelt and cleaned him before they parted.

Resuming his seat beside a contented Amelia, Brian settled down to study Blondie. As it turned out she had a game plan. For the first couple of minutes she did nothing, the pale blonde gladiator lashed at her in desperation, plainly hoping to finish her off but all Blondie did was duck a little and turn her shoulders into the blows so that the backs of them quickly began to show the traces of the studs. The cameras were right on her and beside him, Brian could hear Amelia grunt with mixed excitement and sympathy as the screens showed the smooth skin begin to mark under the heavy whipping. Lash after lash thudded home and still Blondie seemed unperturbed.

The other contests were largely ignored and one was over before Blondie made her move. The pale blonde had gone from a fierce desperation to try and finish it quickly to terror as her lashes seemed to have no effect.

Blondie exploded into action with no warning at all. As the pale blonde began to wind up for another lash in the wake of her last one, she swept her lash across her opponent’s lower stomach. The studs bit into the girl’s hip and she twisted in shock. The lash came back and smacked full across the buttocks. The screens caught it perfectly, the flesh rippling and wobbling. The tall girl screamed and her back arched, her whip momentarily forgotten as her arms raised in an attempt to reach behind her. Blondie’s third lash came back and thudded up under her arms and across her breasts. As one the crowd rose to applaud. Down below, the taller blonde wobbled, frozen in shock. Blondie gave her time to recover and Brian realised what a tough professional she was. She knew precisely what was required.

Despite the hurt the pale blonde wasn’t a solo fighter for nothing, she got herself back under control and took the fight to Blondie once more, trying to curl in lashes low down. But now they were being blocked by the gloves. Blondie was using them to ward off the clubbing head of the whip. Brian shook his head in admiration. None of the others had thought of that. Occasionally she would let a strike land, just to keep the crowd happy, then she let two land in succession on her hips and seemed to bend forwards in pain. The pale girl fell for it and raised her whip high; Blondie unleashed her whip up between her spread legs. One screen caught the studded head snapping up between the buttocks. It seemed as if every woman in the arena screamed.

Brian noticed Amelia’s eyes were wide but she was jigging up and down even more frantically and rubbing between her legs even more urgently.

Out on the arena floor, the pale blonde girl had somehow kept her feet and was still attempting to fight back but now tiredness was making her telegraph each lash and Blondie was swaying back easily or ducking under them. When she felt the time was right she timed a lash to coincide with her opponent’s backswing and flicked her own whip across the exposed breasts. Again, she seemed to know precisely where the cameras were filming and instantly the audience were treated to the exquisite sight of the tender breasts swinging and rippling in the wake of the strike. The girl let out a
guttural
shout and instinctively clutched at her chest. Without breaking her rhythm, Blondie followed through with the lash then brought the whip snaking back and up. Again the arena was filled with the shrill screams of excitement as, this time, the lash curled up between the thighs with carefully judged spite and treated the slit of the sex to the full weight of its venom.

The girl’s hands flew down to clasp herself. Her face froze in a rictus of wide-eyed shock and then a strange softening came across the features and the crowd burst into laughter. On another screen the slave’s gloved hands were shown doing exactly what Amelia’s were. Brian smiled as he watched Amelia’s eyes close in ecstasy once more.

The defeated slave toppled forwards onto her face, but with her hands clasped at her crotch her buttocks were raised invitingly. Blondie was not one to miss such an opportunity. She began a steady, unhurried flogging. The studded weight of the whip’s head slammed into the twin cushions of soft flesh, sending shock waves spreading across them and down the thighs, making the whole body jerk up off the sand.

“Don’t anyone rush to stop her!” the comp
è
re put in. “Blondie knows how to put on a show!”

Nobody did. And Blondie was allowed to deliver a full ration of loser’s punishment to the quivering and humping body at her feet.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. When we come back we’ll have a really terrific final
battle royal for you!” the compè
re’s voice boomed when the the two blondes had finally been led out of the arena.

Dazed and quivering herself, Amelia pulled her skirt on and shrugged into a blouse. She was about to button it when a passing man put out his hand and began stroking her tits. She grinned helplessly at Brian and sighed as the man twisted and pulled at the hard little nipples.

“Okay, one more before lunch,” she muttered, tucking her hair back behind her ears and getting down onto her knees.