A Gentlemen's Agreement (18 page)

“Slaves, on your hands and knees,
facing outward with your toes touching the edge of the circle.” She walked
around, nudging the slaves into the proper position so that they were equally
spaced and the little dildos were lying between their feet. When she was satisfied,
she said, “Now insert the dildos into your cunts.”

The two borrowed slaves were at a
serious disadvantage. They looked confused but they did as they were ordered.

Lord Snow’s slaves were already
concentrating their energy on their now-filled cunts.

“On my mark, begin pulling. As
soon as your dildo is pulled out, return to your team. The last slave to retain
her dildo in her cunt wins. On your mark, get set, pull!”

The slaves all leaned away from
the center of the circle to take the slack out of the ropes.

The two borrowed slaves lost their
dildos immediately, crawled away from the circle and then walked to the wall.
They knew better than to complain but their expressions indicated that they
thought the competition stupid and unfair.

They couldn’t understand why all
the other slaves hadn’t lost their dildos just as quickly.

The competition was more strategic
than it appeared at first. By shifting their position to pull at a different
angle – and there was nothing in the rules to prohibit that – two
or three slaves could combine their efforts to pull the dildo out of a single
slave on the other side of the ring.

Nickel lost her dildo to a joint
effort by Lime, Cherry, and Peach.

Once the gentlemen realized that
this weird game was going to be a hard-fought competition, they began placing
wagers. The room filled with offers of bets, odds, and acceptances.

Apple and Tamarind conspired to
pop Cherry’s dildo.

The gentlemen roared with approval
and began cheering their favorites among the remaining competitors.

Apple and Tamarind popped Peach’s
dildo next, to the dismay of the gentlemen who had money riding on her.

That left Lime, Tamarind, and
Apple in a three-way pull. No two of them were willing to pair up again so it
became a game of brute cunt strength.

The crowd fell silent as they
watched the three slaves strain against each other.

Lime slipped first. Her dildo was
jerked out with a juicy plop.

The gentlemen cheered and jeered,
depending on how their bets were laid.

Tamarind and Apple crawled apart
and repositioned themselves so that they were facing directly away from each
other and then carefully took all the slack out of the ropes that connected
them.

The gentlemen began laying a new
round of wagers. Tens of thousands of
plaqs
were
going to change hands, depending on which of the two slaves had the strongest
cunt muscles.

Team Stallion – Tamarind
– was the odds-on favorite.

Irene had no idea how the men set
the odds – how could they possibly know which slave had the
better-developed cunt? –
but
she would have bet
on Apple. The younger slave should have better muscle tone than the older.

Neither slave was willing to risk
a quick finish – if one jerked
hard,
she was as
likely to void her own cunt as her competitor’s. Or maybe the sudden shock
would pull both dildos free. Instead, they pulled carefully and steadily, each
trying to wear the other down.

The gentlemen turned out to be
better judges of cunt than Irene was. After a long time – minutes –
of strain, Tamarind pulled the dildo free of the younger slave.

Apple dropped to the floor in
shame while Tamarind crawled all the way to her team, keeping her dildo inside
her, dragging the seven other dildos behind like a limp, multi-forked tail.

The gentlemen on her team shouted
their congratulations at her.

Irene almost collapsed in relief.
The first three events – all challenges of physical prowess – wouldn’t
offer the gentlemen any personal sexual satisfaction. Depriving the gentlemen
on the front end had been a risk. She had predicted that, as much as gentlemen
liked fucking slaves, they would like gambling with each other more, at least
for a few minutes. It looked like she was correct.

“Gentlemen,” she shouted, “the
official winner of the first competition is Team Stallion. Second place is Team
Flame. Third place is Team Demon.” Raucous cheers accompanied each
announcement. She marked the scores on a whiteboard that had been mounted on
the wall.

She gave the gentlemen ample time
to discuss the game, razz each other, and settle accounts while she arranged
the equipment for the next event.

When that task was finished she
clapped her hands for attention. “Gentlemen, your attention please.” The
gentlemen continued to talk excitedly, but muted their volume so that Irene
could talk over it.

“The second event will commence
forthwith. This will be a test of lingual dexterity. As you can see, eight
large black rubber cocks have been arranged on stands in a row down the center
of the room. Each of these cocks has four electrical switches located around
the head, one on each side, one on the top, and one on the bottom. The slave is
required to complete circuits around the head of her cock by licking the
bottom, top, left, and right sides in that order. Remember that, slaves.
Bottom, top, left, right. No other order will count as a complete licking. You
must press each side hard enough to close the switch. That will be indicated on
the board in front of your cock. The first slave to completely lick her cock
one hundred times will be the winner. There are points awarded for second and
third place as well. Do not stop until you have reached a count of a hundred
because there is also a punishment for the slave who comes in last place in
today’s competitions. You want to win but you also don’t ever want to come in
last. Any use of hands will mean automatic disqualification. As will
taking
the cock into your mouth. This is a competition for
tongues only – no lips or teeth. Slaves, take your places.”

The gentlemen started placing bets
even before the slaves had begun to move to the center of the room.

The rubber cocks were arranged at
waist height. The slaves had to kneel upright in front of them. The unpadded
floor would be painful on their knees after a couple of minutes, but nobody was
concerned about their comfort.

“Slaves, wait for my mark to
begin. May the fastest and most dexterous tongue win! On your marks, ready,
set, go!”

Pink tongues began darting out of
open mouths and lights began flashing on the boards in front of them. Small
green lights that were arranged on the cardinal points on a circle indicated
successful closures of the top, bottom, left, and right switches and red
numbers counted the number of successful completions.

The start was rocky. It was a
difficult task and slaves failed to press hard enough to close the switches or
got the order wrong. Some slaves kept their heads stationary and endeavored to
reach all the switches by extending their tongues alone; others tried bobbing
their heads around the cock. The first was a strain because the cocks were
large but the second strategy was slow because a head couldn’t move as nearly
as quickly as a darting tongue.

The most successful strategy
seemed to be a combination of small head movements while straining to get the
tongue extended far enough.

Once the slaves got the bugs
worked out, they began to count completed circuits of the cocks quickly.

It wasn’t long before every rubber
cock was dripping with slave saliva.

The gentlemen kept placing new
wagers constantly as the numbers mounted and clear favorites began to emerge.
At the halfway point, one of the borrowed slaves was in the lead but she began
to
falter
as her tongue grew fatigued. The other
borrowed slave passed her. Irene got the impression that both of those slaves
had licked a lot of cock.

Cherry was keeping the pressure on
them. She was in third place, only
a few licks
behind
the lagging borrowed slave but Peach was gaining fast on all of them. She had
been slow to develop her strategy but once she was in her groove, her tongue
was racing below and above,
left
and right, around the
rubber cock.

Nickel was far behind everyone
else. She gloried in getting her own cunt expertly licked, but she seldom gave
oral service to anyone else. Her tongue was almost virgin.

The borrowed slave hit a hundred
first and her board began to flash. A light glowed bright blue above the
numbers.

The gentlemen began to cheer. A
member of her team helped to her feet and held her hand high above her head.

Almost immediately, Peach hit
one-hundred
and a red light glowed on her board.

Another gentleman from her team
helped her to her feet and held her hand high while Cherry scored third place,
illuminated a white light, and was hoisted to her feet.

The other slaves were almost
ignored as they straggled to one hundred.

Nickel never reached eighty. When
all the other slaves were done, she ignominiously stopped licking, staggered to
her feet without aid and slunk away to wait under Team Hawk’s banner.

Once again, Irene announced the
winners and then let the gentlemen settle their wagers while she prepared for
the third event.

“Gentlemen, your attention,
please. We have tested cunt and mouth, so what remains?”

Someone shouted “Assholes!”

Some wag answered, “I know what
you are, but glad to meet you anyway!”

Irene laughed. “Please, gentlemen.
My delicate ears are shocked to hear such language.”

The crowd laughed with her.

“How about your asshole, dear? Is
that also locked away inside your steel panties?” the wag asked.

She turned and stuck her ass out
to show that her nether hole was also armored. “Eat your heart out, sir,
because you won’t be eating out my pink rosebud tonight.”

The crowd howled in merriment. The
shock of a slave making such a disrespectful comment to a gentleman was astounding.
And in public.
Only Slave Irene could get away with
such a thing. Any other slave would be beaten to within an inch of her life. Or
killed outright.

“But you are correct, gentlemen,
the next event will be a test of asshole capacity. We will find out which of
these slaves can take the biggest intrusion. You see arranged along the far
wall, eight pink plastic cones. Each slave will impale her asshole on one of
the cones and see how far she can violate herself. Of course, being a cone,
every inch of violation requires that her asshole be stretched an additional quarter
inch in diameter. To accommodate six inches of cone, she will have to stretch
herself to an inch and a half; eight inches will require accommodating a two
inch diameter.” That was a slight exaggeration because the tip of the cone was
rounded and was an inch shorter than a sharp cone. But the description was
accurate enough for her purposes. “The depth that you accommodate the cone will
be indicated on the dial above your cone. As you impale yourself, you will push
back the beads that are riding on the top and bottom of the cone. That moves a
lever that pushes the needle to a higher number. There is one caveat. Any slave
who tears herself will be disqualified.” They needed that rule because the
gentlemen would expect their slave to tear her own asshole to shreds if that
were required for her to win. And some of the slaves might just do it. “This is
a test of your ability to accommodate a massive cock, not your ability to rape
yourself. So be sensitive about when you are reaching the limit of your
sphincter’s capacity.” She looked at the slaves. “This is not a timed event.
Take your time.
You don’t need to be first
,
you need to be biggest
. So,
slaves,
go ahead and impale your asshole on the cone of your choice.”

The slaves sauntered over to the
cones, and examined them. They glistened with fresh lube. A black scale inscribed
into the topside of each cone indicated the length and diameter at each point.
The measuring beads rested at the three-quarter inch mark and the needles above
the cones confirmed this. Scoring wouldn’t start until the slave had impaled
herself with at least two inches of cone.

Tamarind was the first to turn
around, bend sharply at the waist, and impale
herself
.
She immediately took the cone up to the inch and a half diameter mark, as
indicated by the needle above her backside. The nearest gentleman could see
that confirmed by the mark on the cone where it disappeared inside her. She
pushed herself further and moved the bead to the inch and three-quarters mark.

The other slaves followed suit.

Breaking two inches was a problem.
A slave never had to accommodate a penis that was larger than that.

The slaves rocked back and forth,
easing off and then pushing on to stretch themselves another fraction of an
inch.

All of the slaves were doing well.
Except Nickel.
She had maxed out at slightly less than
an inch and seven-eighths and was going no further. She sweated and pushed and
groaned and tried but to no avail.

Irene felt for her. She knew that
Nickel had been torn at the last entertainment and, though she would have
mostly healed by now, would still be fragile.

She moved close to examine
Nickel’s cone. When Nickel backed off a bit in order to give herself momentum
to ram harder on the cone, Irene saw a small smear of blood.

Irene had to admire her grit.

She touched Nickel on the ass and
said, “Enough. You’re bleeding. You have torn yourself because you failed to
accommodate that much of the cone. That is a disqualification. Move away and
stand up.”

Nickel stood and whirled on Irene.
Her face was a mask of rage. “I wasn’t done. I could have taken more.”